If only they knew.
“Hey,” Dana said as she approached the bathroom where I was still staring in the mirror. “Your hair looks fine, Étienne. Stop obsessing.” She leaned up against the doorframe.
“I’m not obsessing. It doesn’t do what I want it to do like yours does.” I pointed to her newly dyed orange hair.
Dana’s hair was nothing like mine. It was straight, never frizzy, and naturally blonde. Though her parents let her do whatever she wanted with her hair, which she took advantage of very frequently.
“Whatever. Let’s go for a drive.” She turned toward the blue couch in our front sitting room.
I fiddled with my hair for another minute before grabbing a cardigan. Then I grabbed my house keys and tapped her on the shoulder, meaning I was heading toward the back door. Thankfully Dana had her own car.
“Be home before midnight, Étienne,” my mom yelled from the rear living room. It was probably going to be longer than that, though.
When I was in high school, she usually trusted me to do the right thing. I could go anywhere and stay out as late as I wanted, as long as my chores were done, and I answered her prying questions upon returning home. She gave me rules when I wanted to go out, but it was usually a formality so my siblings wouldn’t get jealous thinking she had a favorite.
“Bye, Ma,” I said as Dana and I hurried out the back door to her car parked in the driveway.
“Ahh.” Dana sighed after she started the car. “I love your mom,” she said, looking behind her as she backed out of the driveway.
“Take her,” I joked before adding, “So. Where to?”
Dana decided we would drive down Jefferson Avenue to catch the freshwater breeze before figuring out where we were going to end up. I opened my passenger side window.
“Hey, can you roll down the other windows?” I asked.
She opened all of the windows, including the moonroof. And I could finally let go of all my anxieties and breathe. We sat there in silence, cruising down the avenue hugging the coastline of Lake St. Clair. The horizon was a dark blue to the east of us, and I could see a few stars above the water in the distance to the left. The moon and all its wisdom hung above us through the opened roof of Dana’s gray Escape; I laid my head back to admire it. I’ve always loved staring at our moon. I wondered what it would be like to stare back at us, Earth, from the lunar surface. Would it be as pretty as observing the rocky imprints of ancient, violent collisions? Would we be able to see the detailed green coastlines crashing with the deep blue oceans?
With Dana, we could sit there for eternity in silence. We didn’t have to talk while hanging out. She knew what I needed, and I the same for her. We didn’t hang out every day like most best friends did. But we also didn’t need to. Do you have a best friend like that?
“You seem really anxious today. What’s going on?” She broke the silence, glancing over to me, her orange hair flying above the head rest. I wished the car swerved over the median and into the lake.
“What do you mean?” I replied casually. I didn’t want her to know she caught me off guard. The reality was, I was clenching my jaw and squeezing my right thigh.
She did this on purpose.She knows something’s up and waited for the perfect moment.
“Come on, Étienne. I know you.” She lifted her hand for a second.
“Honestly, I’m fine. Just tired from the day.” I kept my gaze forward, knowing she would see through my eyes if I looked at her directly.
“Yeah? What was tiring about the day? We literally had nothing to do at school except dodgeball with the lowerclassmen for personal fitness,” she pushed. She could see I wasn’t telling her something.
“This is really ruining the moment, you know,” I spat out, crossing my arms as my voice cracked. My emotions began to seep through, like a leak at the end of a hose that hasn’t been properly fastened to the faucet.
I tried hard to hide my emotions from others. People say that showing emotions is a sign of strength, but for me it felt like a sign of weakness. Especially when I was that age. Your words shouldn’t have impacted me. If they did, I was weak enough to let you get the better of me.
I directed my eyes up at the sky through Dana’s moonroof. She decided to turn around and head back toward town. And by the time I realized we were no longer by the water, we were in the parking lot of our old elementary school, the side bordering the playground past the back entrance.
“Let’s go on the swing sets,” Dana mumbled before exiting the car.
She slammed the driver door much harder than normal, her way of telling me that she was pissed and needed to blow off some steam. Maybe I needed it too. The adrenaline of the swings would put us both in a better mood.
It was strange being there. We hadn’t frequented this specific playground in a long time, though we liked going to random playgrounds in the city to swing. It felt so much smaller than I remembered our old school being. Even the baseball diamond in the corner of the field looked awkwardly small.How did we ever play kickball there?
Dana and I met in the fourth grade here. I’d never forgotten how nervous I was to be starting at a new school. We hadn’t met until after lunch during recess, as we weren’t in the same class until fifth grade. When I got to the playground and saw everyone already huddled in their groups, I went to the swings, my favorite thing to do.
“Remember this?” she asked, pointing to the last two swings at the far end of the wood chipped area, before the grass went on for what felt like a mile when I was a kid, and ended at the fence.
“I do.” I smiled, meeting her deep brown eyes.