I smiled a little, too, and got up to get two cans of soda from the pantry and two glasses from the cabinet. I pulled out the ice cube tray from the freezer and carefully selected four cubes for each glass. I tilted the glass sideways to pour the soda. With four cubes, the twelve-ounce drinks fit into the glasses perfectly.
Carrying a Coke in each hand, I brought the glasses back into the dining room, which was attached to the living room and the kitchen. The whole floor made a circle you could walk around. Mayra had moved over to the couch, so I took our drinks and placed them neatly in the center of the coasters on the coffee table.
“Thanks!” Mayra said as she took a sip. “Mmm…it’s so much better in a cup with ice. Justin always just has the cans in the fridge.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied. I sat down on the other end of the couch. The comment about Justin had my head spinning a bit. I wondered if she usually worked on ecology projects with him and if she went to his house often. I tensed up again though I wasn’t sure exactly why.
“Hey, Matthew?” Mayra said as she turned toward me. She moved closer to the center cushion and pulled one of her legs up underneath her. “Can I ask you something?”
“Okay.”
“Something kind of personal?”
My fingers gripped my thighs. I tried to keep my breathing in check, but the number of possibilities of things she might ask me was too overwhelming. What did girls ask guys when they were together? I hoped she wouldn’t ask me questions about soccer because I didn’t know much about it at all. My dad had only been into the Cincinnati Reds, and the closest competitive sport Mom had gotten into was Iron Chef.
I jumped as her fingers moved slowly over mine. I dropped my gaze to her hand as she reached around and pulled my fingers away from my leg. She wrapped her hand around mine and then turned my hand over and laced our fingers together.
“Can I ask you?” she repeated.
“Okay.” I kept staring at our fingers. They fit together really well. Thumb, thumb, finger, finger…
She took a deep breath, and her fingers moved up and down my fingers, stroking slowly. It was calming, and I pressed my shoulders against the couch cushions.
“What’s wrong with you, Matthew?”
“Huh?” I sputtered. I was glad I didn’t have a mouthful of Coke at the moment because it would have gone everywhere.
“I mean, I know you are…different. I heard people say you were…you know…retarded or something, but you’re not. You’re very smart—I can tell that. But you also aren’t…aren’t…”
“Normal,” I whispered as I pulled my hand away. My heart was beating too fast. The couch seemed really, really small all of a sudden.
“Yeah, I guess.”
I swallowed hard. I was frantically trying not to panic, but trying to frantically defeat panic really didn’t work well. I closed my eyes, counted backwards, and tried to think of some way to respond to her that wouldn't make her immediately run for the hills.
“I'm sorry,” Mayra said softly. “I shouldn't have asked.”
I glanced at her eyes and quickly looked away again. The strange thing was I wanted to tell her. I wanted her to know, but I didn't want her to run away. I also needed to get the fuck out of that room immediately.
“I have to go.” I pushed off the couch and tugged at my hair as I walked out of the family room and down the short flight of stairs to the lower level.
“Matthew—don’t go! I’m sorry—really! I shouldn’t have said anything. I just…just—”
I paused and glanced over my shoulder to see her standing at the top of the stairs.
“Give me a few minutes.” I sounded like I was begging, but I didn’t want her to leave—not yet. She nodded, and I ran off, flinging open the door to the basement and running down the stairs.
Once I got down into the cool, unfinished room, my breathing came easier. I closed my eyes and waited for my heart
to calm down a bit, then reached down and pulled my shirt off over my head. I bent down and pulled off my shoes and my socks.
I walked slowly to the far side of the large, open room, picked up a pair of training gloves, and pulled them over my hands. I tightened the straps and lined up the Velcro perfectly around one wrist and then the other. I took one more deep breath and turned to the large heavy bag that took up most of that side of the basement.
I stepped onto the mat surrounding the bag and pulled my arms in front of myself to stretch out a bit. I clenched my hands into fists, stared straight at the center of the bag, and began to punch.
Right, left, right, left.
Left, left, right. Left, left, right.