summer
It’s a burning hot day in July. Scorching. They’re hanging around poolside at Cordelia’s, eating popsicles. His is cherry and staining his tongue. Hers is lemon and matches her bathing suit. He’s dangling his legs in the pool. She’s in the kitchen putting a new record on. He looks up at her house and suddenly feels guilty somehow. He feels guilty because four days ago she was sitting in his room in his tiny apartment above a deli and he feels guilty because that's not good enough for her. What if she minds? He doubts it, but he still feels guilty. There’s something sticky on his hand. He looks down and realises the rest of his popsicle has melted. Yikes. He sucks the syrup off his fingers and shrugs off the guilt as best he can.
Cordelia puts on a Monkees record before running out of the kitchen with light steps so she can ambush Whizzer and push him into the pool. He squeals and drags her down with him. The mutual screeching ends once they crash into the deep end and silence falls. They let go of eachother after a second. Whizzer opens his eyes and looks at her. She looks serene. Her eyes are shut, her hair is floating around her like an angel’s halo on a stained glass window and she’s smiling a little. The serenity lasts for about half a minute, then they burst out of the surface, laughing and gasping for air. She loops her arms over his shoulders and he doggy paddles around with her on his back to make her laugh. Her laugh is like vocal sunshine and it makes him feel light. They splash around for a bit before crashing onto the side of the pool again, still giggling.
It’s been five minutes of recovery before Cordelia speaks: “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her.”
“Charlotte?”
“Mhm.”
“You can’t be in love with her! I haven’t met her!” She snorts at that and punches him lightly in the arm.
“For real, though. When I see her I feel weak at the knees.”
“Wow.”
“Like…” Her eyes are a little glazed over as she speaks, “it’s like she’s magic. She walks in a room and it feels like the sun after a storm. Like the end of a marathon.”
“Geez Louise, Dee. You’ve got it bad.”
“Yup. And I’ve never actually spoken a word to her.” Whizzer facepalms.
“You should try! What’s the worst that could happen?”
“She could call me a dyke and run away?” Damn.
“Good point.” There’s a sad silence. “I’m sure you’ll work it out.” The silence returns.
Later on Cordelia's mom and brother get home. Her brother Kyle hugs Whizzer and sticks his tongue out at Cordelia. Her mom Janet kisses him on the cheek and hugs her daughter. Whizzer grins at all of them. He’s fascinated by their dynamics. They watch the beatles on tv together. Her mom asks Whizzer how school is, how yearbook is going. While she does, Whizzer feels guilty again. His dad doesn’t even know Cordelia’s name. She could have better friends. He tries to shrug it off.
It’s dark when he thanks her mom and says goodbye, dark but still hot. She walks him out to the drive and then hugs him goodbye as tight as she can. He tells her to call him even though he already knows she will. He kisses her forehead. He loves her. She’s his best friend and he loves her and he’s lucky.
He walks home. From Brighton Beach to central Brooklyn. It’s an hour’s walk in the heat, but he likes it. He takes Polaroids of the streets, of Manhattan bridge in the distance. He smiles at the angry old men who walk past him. He smiles and takes pictures and takes pictures and smiles. He could take pictures and smile for the rest of his life, he thinks. A boy with sad eyes smiles at him from across the street. He blushes and keeps walking. He thinks about Cordelia and how she's in love. He can’t imagine being fully in love like that. Oh well. He guesses he’ll learn.