Wilted Petals By: Sean Roberts
Author's Note: All feedback is appreciated. Please send to seanr_13@yahoo.ca
Chapter 4
The boy in him makes him use her new camera more than she does. It is one of those cameras with lots of features that can be used with the touch of a button. He is not very interested in photography but it is the technology that fascinates him; how the simple pressing of buttons can allow the camera to take intricately detailed pictures in any light.
There is nobody there except them. He knows the wing very well; he has spent a lot of time with his uncle over the past few weeks. He knows where the switches are and he has lit up the entire wing for her. Treasures of Pharaohs are all around them; valuable mummies and jars representing a past life.
"What kind of boy your age likes museums so much?" The excitement on his face is apparent as he plays with the camera, navigating the menus and learning the various things it can do, and then enthusiastically taking pictures of whatever it is they are standing beside.
He stops. He gives her back her camera.
"People actually carved these things by hand. Do you know how long it takes just to carve a nose? You'd be amazed at the amount of dedication that goes into these. I've had feelings for you for years, and no matter how many times you've turned me down I kept on trying. I'm still trying. Sometimes I think that if I keep trying one day it will happen. Other times I think that it will never happen. I know that nothing will come out of this, but I still don't think I'm wasting my time."
"Now you're sure it will never happen?"
"Yes. Because there's this reason of yours you promised to tell me tonight. I assume it's a good one. We can look at the rest of the exhibit or you can tell me now. It's your choice."
It was a few weeks after it happened. They never brought it up with him, not wanting him to tell them if he really didn't want to. But out of the blue he said: It was a stupid fight.
"We were all in the shower and the four of them were making fun of me. They're buddies all of them, really close too. And they do it to everybody, but they had been picking on me a lot more. The easiest way to handle them was just to ignore them but I was getting sick of them so I started to fight back. Just insulting them back you know?
"So we got dressed. And then they threatened to kill me. Of course I didn't take it seriously--and they weren't serious either, but they were in one of those moods that makes people do stupid things. But when I saw that they were ready to do something, I ran. I mean, four on one. My pride couldn't even justify that. They were calling me things like faggot and cock- sucker--a real wide variety of insults--you heard some of it Leslie didn't you? While they were beating the shit out of me? I was suddenly scared."
There is a pause while he swallows, though he swallows nothing because his mouth is dry.
"When they started I figured they'd work on me a bit and then leave it. But something about the way they were saying what they were saying; the way they were hitting me; I thought they wouldn't stop."
Jonathan turned away from the girls, not wanting them to see the tears that were forming in his eyes.
"They're dicks and everybody knows it. It all happened just because I wouldn't keep my damn mouth shut. All I really had to do was put up with their shit for another week. It wouldn't have taken them much longer than that to give up on me and start on somebody else."
Johanna handed him a tissue to tell him that it was okay that he was crying in front of them. Leslie offered to take them all out for ice cream.
"I don't want to tell you at all."
"Then answer the question I asked you in the book-room. Tell me how you feel about me."
Johanna does not need to think about this, she knows, and she decides to tell him this if she can get away without telling him anything else. "I love everything about you Jonathan. Especially how cute you are when you pout. But my feelings for you don't go beyond friendship. I'm not even attracted to you."
She turns away from him to give him time to think about what she has just told him. She does not want to hear what he's about to tell her because no matter what he says she will hear the pain in his voice. She knows how much she has just hurt him.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. The first time she has said this when he is in front of her. She turns around to see what he's doing. He is looking away from her, at a duplicate of a mummy.
"It's amazing," he says, "how much we know about this civilization. They lived so long ago. But you're right here. You've been right here for two years and I know so little about you."
"What are you talking about? We know a lot about each other."
"If you were seeing somebody I would understand. I know your feelings for me aren't the same as mine for you; I figured you weren't attracted to me, though I didn't know that for sure until now. I guess that was just wishful thinking. But one date. Why won't you do even that?
"No, wait, don't answer that. I shouldn't push you to tell me this. If you don't want to tell me, I guess it's your decision to make.
"Get your camera ready. There's some really neat stuff we haven't seen."
She invites him inside when they get back to her place. There's some ice cream in the freezer, she tells him.
It is still early and her parents are awake, watching television. She enters the living room.
"Did you have a good time?" her mother asks. Jonathan appears in the doorway. He says an awkward hello and Johanna realizes she has never introduced him to her parents. They have been friends for so long and he has never met her parents, though she has met his many times.
"Mom, dad, this is Jonathan." They stand to greet him.
"We've heard a lot about you," Johanna's father says, shaking his hand. "It's nice to finally meet you." She is embarrassed that he has not yet seen them, not even the inside of her house. She never felt comfortable inviting him inside. I know so little about you.
They sit quietly in the kitchen, eating ice cream. It is too cold to be one of her favourite desserts, though she enjoys it more with hot pie.
"Are you okay?" she asks him as soon as they have finished. It is the first thing they have said to each other since they started eating.
"Yes. Thank-you. So I'll see you in school tomorrow?"
"I'm going to walk you out," she says with a smile.
"I didn't tell him. I couldn't, I don't know why. I just told him that I didn't have the same feelings for him; that I wasn't attracted to him. And then I said sorry. I really hurt him by saying that. I know I didn't have a choice but it was still hard."
"At least you were honest with him," Leslie says. "Is he okay?"
He says he is. He isn't though. He's a guy^Ö-you know he'll never admit it.
"Just give him some time. It'll be okay."
I know. Are you tired Leslie? I was wondering if you wanted to come over.
Soon, they will have two images of the orchid. Leslie printed the picture Johanna sent her just days before and brought it with her, along with a canvas and paints.
She sits on Johanna's chair, her canvas and the print in front of her.
Leslie lives for details. She sees details before she sees the bigger picture. This is reflected in her paintings. No detail of anything she paints is overlooked. She has started with the yellow centre and will work her way outwards. A tiny drop of water on the top-right edge of the flower will become the focal point of the painting.
Johanna sits on her bed. "Tell me what happened tonight," Leslie says to her as she dabs the yellow. Johanna loves watching her paint. Though Leslie's eyes do not stray even for brief moments, Johanna knows that the details she will give her friend will be remembered long after the painting.
Leslie's arm becomes tired when the centre is finished. She joins Johanna on the bed. Leslie kisses her tentatively, not knowing if her lover is in the mood. But she is.
They strip. It is easier this way, both of them naked. They are both tired so there is no more talking; no foreplay. They kiss, spreading their legs and entering each other with their fingers as they do so. They move at the same speed, with the same rhythm. They were amazed when their periods began to come at the same time.
The feeling of being inside somebody is comforting to Johanna. She soaks up Leslie's warmth--the heat of her body and the warmth of her come--the same way she soaks up her love. She prefers sex when they do not say "I love you" before. The silent words mean so much more to her when she can feel them in Leslie's touch.