Through the Windshield Glass (6 page)

Carmen led us
through some tables and finally stopped at one that was situated perfectly. It
was near the street and from where we were sitting we would be able to see all
the people passing by, not to mention a good view of a street performer doing
magic tricks on the corner.

“Lydia will be
your server, she should be around soon,” Carmen said with a giant red smile.

“Thank you,”
Daman said. He pulled the chair out for me as Carmen tottered away on her
stilettos.

“I told you it
was a great place,” Daman said, taking his own seat and reaching across the
table for my hand.

“Yeah, it’s
amazing! Did you come here with your girlfriend?” I asked. I regretted the
question as soon as I spoke it.

“No,” Daman
said, “I never had a girlfriend; I would take my mom out to eat here sometimes
to get her away from her boyfriend.”

“That’s sweet,”
I said, it really was, “You were so good to your mother. She was lucky to have
you.”

“Wish I could
believe that,” Daman said, somewhat distractedly.

“I’m serious,”
I protested. There was the obnoxious Daman again, “Any guy who treats his
mother with that much respect--”

I was
interrupted by our waitress arriving. She was slightly less affected than
Carmen had been, but it was still obvious that the actual skin on her face
rarely saw the light of day under her makeup.

“I’m Lydia, are
you guys ready for some drinks?” Lydia asked, handing out menus.

“I’ll have the
raspberry lemonade,” Daman said. That sounded delicious.

“Same for me
please,” I said to Lydia.

“Okay, two
raspberry lemonades coming right up. I’ll have those out to you in a minute,”
Lydia smiled brightly and followed Carmen’s path back through the tables.

Daman smiled
and reached for my hand. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, just
enjoying each other's company and watching quite a few proposals take place.

The arrival of
Lydia with our drinks stopped our observations, “You guys really are cute!” she
said, setting down the glasses of lemonade, “Are you ready to order?”

I realized I
hadn’t even looked at the menu. I snatched it up and began quickly scanning the
contents.

“I’ll have the
spaghetti,” Daman said. I was still searching the menu when Lydia finished
writing.

“Can I have the
same thing, and a side of fries?” I asked.

“Normally, we
don’t serve the fries with the spaghetti, but I think we can swing it for you,”
Lydia said with a wink, “I’ll be right back with those.”

As soon as
Lydia was out of earshot, I turned back to Daman, who was conveniently sucking
on his straw.

“Are you going
to tell me why you think you ruined your mother's life?"

“I don’t know,
okay,” Daman said under his breath, “I just do-- did. There was no one else to
blame for it, and my mom didn’t deserve any of what she got. It only made sense
to blame myself; I was always costing her more and more money to take care of,”

“That happens
to everyone as they grow up,” I said.

“I answered
your question, my turn,” Daman said, completely avoiding delving deeper into
the issue of his self-depredation, “Why were you so jealous of your best
friend?"

In that moment,
I hated Daman Carter more than any other person I had ever felt angst towards.
I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes the way I had seen my mother and Lacey do
a million times when they were annoyed.

“I really don’t
want to tell you,” I said, “But I will if you push me,”

I was using the
same tactic my mom used to when she was trying to get me to do something I
didn’t want to do. She would always leave it up to me, but she would make me
feel like she would be extremely disappointed in me if I didn’t do what she had
asked. Apparently, boys don’t react to the guilt trip the same way, or at least
Daman didn’t.

“Please tell
me,” he said.

I looked up at
him, trying to plead with my eyes, but to no avail. I was going to have to tell
him what had happened.

“It's really
dumb,” I was still trying to get away with saying as little as possible.

“Why?” Daman
asked. I wanted to punch him, why couldn’t he leave me alone? Couldn’t he see
that this was something I didn’t want to dig up?

I guess not,
because he looked at me with unwavering interest and I knew I wouldn’t be able
to divert him no matter how hard I tried.

“Because,” I
said, taking a shaky breath, and trying to keep the tears from coming, “She was
always the pretty one. She ended up dating all the boys I liked because they
asked her out first and I always told her it was okay. She was rich, she got
good grades and everyone loved her. I felt like a tag along just standing in
her shadow all the time."

The words came
out in a rush. Now, sitting here in the sun with Daman I realized how silly my
jealousy had been, but it was still painful.

I will forever
be grateful to Lydia for showing up right then before Daman could ask any more
questions.

"Spaghetti
for the both of you and extra fries for the lady," Lydia said as she set
our plates of food down.

My mouth
started watering so badly I was afraid I was going to start drooling. I took a
sip of lemonade to satiate my taste buds for a moment, the intense sour taste
made my jaw ache. I set my glass down and asked Daman to pass the ketchup.
Daman just sat and watched patiently as I poured the condiment all over my
fries, before digging into the spaghetti.

My mom was an
excellent cook, I was never hungry and my friends were always jealous of the
lunches that I would bring to school on days when I had no money. But nothing,
and I mean nothing could compare to how fantastically delicious that spaghetti
tasted. There was sausage in the sauce which I’m sure had addictive ingredient
because the more I ate the more I wanted.

I had plowed
through half the spaghetti when I remembered my fries. I dove into those with
such vigor that I forgot to be embarrassed at eating like a pig, in front of a
boy, who I loved, who was looking at me with a disgusted look on his face.

I finally began
to slow down when most of the fries were gone. I couldn’t decide whether to
save them for last or not so I took intermittent bites of spaghetti and fry
until I had finished. I took a long swig of lemonade and sat back with a very
contented sigh. I hadn’t felt so good since before I died.

“Was it good?”
Daman asked, “Or did you even taste it before you swallowed?”

“Ha-ha very
funny,” I said over the rim of my lemonade glass. I was slightly embarrassed,
but too much in a food coma to care.

Daman chuckled
and threw his napkin onto his empty plate, “I think I know how to get through
this door, but we’re going to have to use, experimentation, if we’re doing
something wrong I’m sure we’ll get stopped, or it’ll turn sour quickly, if not,
and I’m right, get ready,” Daman got up dropping the money for our lunch on the
table, along with a generous tip. He started weaving his way between the tables
and was nearly at the exit by the time I caught up to him.

“Get ready for
what?” I asked breathlessly.

“That’s a
surprise,” Daman said mystically.

“I hate
surprises,” I muttered.

Chapter Ten

The silence
stretched between Daman and I. It wasn’t like the crushing silence I had felt
when I was alone in my hallway, this silence was comfortable, it was warm and
friendly, and even without words we seemed to be communicating.

I could feel
the pulse in Daman’s wrist against my own. It felt like we were in perfect rhythm,
our steps were in sync and it felt like we were one person. One pulse, one set
of legs, and with only one thing on our minds: each other.

Everyone that
passed the two of us as we were walking stared. I felt like we were glowing. My
skin felt warm and tingly and I knew that there was no place else in the world
that I would want to be.

I couldn’t ever
remember being this content with how things were going. There was no school to
worry about the next day, no curfew to keep. Just this boy and I, hand in hand,
enjoying a solitary walk in Nevada. It was the most perfect thing I had ever
experienced. I began wondering if the door Daman had opened was labeled
'Perfection', that didn't feel right though. I’d just have to wait and see
which door was gone when everything ended.

“Do I get to
know where we’re going yet?” I finally asked when my curiosity got the better
of me.

“The park,”
Daman said.

“Why?” I asked,
looking up at him.

“You said you
were going to trust me,” Daman responded.

“But we’re
nowhere near the park,” I protested, I knew that for a fact. I didn’t know this
part of town at all.

“That’s what
you think, but what I think is that if we decide where we’re going, it will be
there."

I was silent
again after that; it was obvious I wasn’t going to get anything else out of
him. He seemed to know much more about this whole dead thing than I did even
though he used the lost boy look every time I actually wanted to know
something.

We walked on
for a few more minutes and I started to see changes in the surroundings that
shouldn’t have been happening. On one corner I saw a tree that I recognized
from my home neighborhood. A few more minutes passed and we were walking past
Maria’s house, then mine. I stopped in my tracks.

“That’s my
house,” I whispered to myself, “Can we go in?”

“I don’t think
so,” Daman replied, speaking softly in my ear, “That’s not where we’re supposed
to go just now.”

I nodded, but
there was still a deep longing to go into my house, hug my sister, see my old
room, and touch the books on my bookshelf that had been my constant companions
on my many dateless nights. Daman pulled on my hand and I eventually fell into
step next to him again, but I couldn’t keep myself from looking back at my
house at intervals until it disappeared as we rounded a corner.

I gasped, the
park was right there.

Daman took me
to almost the exact place where I had been lying in the grass when he had found
me. He sat down and pulled me down to the ground with him. He leaned back on
his hands and I sat tentatively next to him.

“Do I get to
know why we need to be here yet?” I asked, knowing what the answer would be.

Daman rested
his chin on the top of my head, “Just wait.”

We sat like
that, just enjoying each other’s company for what must have been hours, but
only felt like minutes. The sun was setting before we spoke again. If possible,
the sunset was even more beautiful than when I had first met Daman, maybe
because when it was setting then I hadn’t loved Daman. I hadn’t even known him;
he’d just been another stranger who was dead like me. But now he was so much
more than that, and he was here to share this sunset with me. Beauty is always
so much better when it can be shared.

I lifted my
hand to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear.

Daman put the
piece of hair back where it had been.

“I like it
there,” Daman said.

I rolled my
eyes and turned around to look at Daman in the face, “Is that why we came here?
So you could tell me how to do my hair?”

Daman was about
to reply when something made him stop, I followed his gaze to a figure coming
towards us from the playground. It looked like man with two heads.

“Do you think
we should be afraid?” I asked.

“No,” Daman
answered honestly, “That’s our reason for being here.”

We watched the
man come closer, and we also began to notice more people behind him. Eventually
　
I saw that some of the man was
carrying a tuba and was dressed in Sunday best; other like him followed. Soon
the park was teeming with musicians and listeners alike.

Daman stood up
and then helped me up. We waited there as the people with instruments took
various spots on the playground. Some of the ones with smaller instruments
settled down on the swings, some on the lips of slides, others standing on the
platforms and even a few sitting atop the monkey bars.

I glanced at
Daman to see if he was as unsure as me, but he just stood there smiling at me.
He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and pulled me closer to the playground
with the rest of the couples.

No one spoke;
they all seemed to be waiting. The musicians all raised their instruments
without any kind of cue and began to play a slow tune that sounded extremely
familiar, but I couldn’t place the name.

“Shall we
dance?” Daman whispered in my ear. I looked around and saw that all of the
other couples had come together and were moving to the music.

“Okay,” I said.

Daman pulled me
into him, wrapping his right arm around my waist and taking my right hand in
his left. I couldn’t reach his shoulder comfortably, so I rested my free hand
on his chest. Then he was stepping, using the arm at my waist to guide me, he
moved with an ease that astonished me. I’d never been danced with before, but
Maria had described what it was like to me. She said it was awkward, boys were
afraid to get too close. They placed both hands on your hips, barely daring to
touch you and the whole time your hands were digging into their shoulders
trying to pull them closer so that you could talk without yelling.

This was
nothing like what Maria had described. This was comfortable, this was perfect.
I rested my head on Daman’s chest and we continued to step and move with the
music.

The changing
light was so gradual I didn’t notice it at first, but after a moment I realized
people that weren’t dancing were lighting candles and placing them around the
dancing couples.

The light
softened the lines on Daman’s face; it made him look younger, more fragile and
softer.