“Oh, Shofuso is a Japanese teahouse in the middle of the park,” Shawn said, his eyes alight. “They have all these beautiful plants, a nice-sized koi pond. Oh, it’s just gorgeous. And we get to help keep it that way. Bit of community service in lieu of, well,” he glanced at Sarika and shrugged. “I don’t know. Other trips we might have taken if we had the funds. Maybe the aquarium over in Camden or something like that.”
“Cool, that’s still really, you know, cool. And neat. Neat and cool.” Leila looked over at Sarika, who looked as though she might burst from the laughter she was holding back.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to finish your lunch.” Shawn looked at the trays and stood up, grabbing his brown bag from off the table. “School isn’t so great with the vegan options, so I’ve got my own here. Gonna bike over to the park and then head home. Leila, you ride, right? I thought I saw you the other day.”
“Oh!” Leila exclaimed. “Yeah! Almost every day.”
“You know they close the roads around Kelly Drive on Sundays, up around Fairmount Park and the river,” he said, smiling again. Leila felt her heart quicken. “If you’re free, maybe we could go on a ride? Grab something to eat? It’s really lovely.”
Leila looked over at Sarika, who nodded her head yes just barely, and turned back to Shawn.
“Sure, I’d love that,” she said, grinning.
“It’s a date then,” he said with a wink. He snapped his fingers and pointed at her, making that click sound with his cheek. “I’ll text you later, I’ve got your contact info thanks to the club signup sheet. Catch the two of you later.”
Leila watched him as he walked away and out of the cafeteria and the large doors swung closed behind him. She turned back to Sarika, who was now glaring.
“What?” Leila asked.
“Nothing, nothing.” Sarika shrugged. “He’s totally hot. But, I dunno, something is off about him. And that finger snap and clicking noise?”
“I know, I know,” Leila said, shaking her head. “But maybe—”
“Don’t you say it,” Sarika said.
“I can—”
“Don’t!”
“Fix him.”
Sarika leapt to her feet, and then feigned flipping the lunch table over.
Sarika Paprika
@TheSarikaPaprika
Let’s take a poll. If you date someone, is it possible to “fix” them?
Yes 13%
LOL NOPE 87%
19,293 Votes – Final Results
8/12/17, 9:47AM
1,283 Retweets 3,031 Likes
Leila @WithouttheY 7m
@TheSarikaPaprika this is the subtweet to end all subtweets.
Sarika @TheSarikaPaprika 5m
@WithouttheY ˉ\_(:/)_/ˉ
VII
Leila awoke with a gasp.
Today was the day.
She darted over to her dresser and dug through to find the perfect outfit for a long bike ride and a picnic—just a simple pair of worn-in jeans (ones she’d worn almost every day last week) and a black t-shirt with a white graffiti heart on it. After a quick shower, she grabbed her phone and darted down the stairs to tune up her bike.
With an audible click, she woke up her phone and went to the messages, where she was surprised to find she had several waiting. They were all from Sarika.
On my way to Adam’s. Can’t do makeovers. Lots of call outs. Don’t be mad.
Don’t get crazy. You’re bike riding, you don’t need the makeup.
You bike ride, you sweat, makeup nightmarishly leaks off your face.
Remember the short story? No makeup.
You’ll die. Don’t die.
Leila laughed and texted Sarika a quick heart ? and made her way into the kitchen. Jon and Lisabeth were already in there, drinking coffee. Jon had today’s newspaper in his hands, his spectacles on, and appeared as though he was ready to spend his entire day there. Lisabeth was flicking her finger at a tablet, making quick work of whatever was on there, her expression clear. She’d be done soon, there were things to do. People to see. It was a determined expression that Leila frequently saw, the look of someone who always had a goal, who was always chasing something. She loved it.
Leila reached under the kitchen table, hauled her light box up and onto it, and plugged it in. The bright light beamed over her face as she looked away from the soft glow and settled into her chair. She pulled out her phone, flipping through a few news blips and her social media.
“So,” Jon said, and without looking up slid a piece of paper across the table. “Here’s your permission slip that you left on the fridge, signed and good to go. But I can’t imagine why you need one of those. It’s just the park. Have fun today.”
“Jon, it’s Sunday,” Leila said, taking the slip and shoving it in her pocket. She reached out and grabbed some orange juice on the table, and started pouring herself a glass.
Jon flipped his paper over and looked at the front.
“So it is!” he exclaimed, before going back to the stories inside. “Ah, the joys of summers and academia.”
“Yeah, you go on about that,” Lisabeth said, putting her tablet down and swatting at Jon’s newspaper. “Some of us have to go into work and have to keep track of things. Like, you know, days of the week, the household budget, the electric bill.” She kissed Jon on the forehead and made her way towards Leila with an empty mug in her hand. “And where are you off to? Shouldn’t you be sleeping in, reading your message boards? Or are you off to the farmer’s market for some more plants for this one to murder?”
“Hey, I don’t murder them,” Jon said. “They die from neglect.”
“No, I . . .” Leila muttered. “Well, there’s this . . . I’m going on a bike ride with . . .”
Lisabeth put down her mug and turned to Jon.
“My God,” Lisabeth said, grinning from ear to ear.
“No,” Leila said.
“You have—”
“Just stop.”
“A DATE?” Lisabeth exclaimed.
“Shall I fetch my shotgun?” Jon asked, still looking into his paper. “That’s what father-type figures are supposed to do in this situation, yes? I’ve seen movies. I did research.”
“Tell me everything,” Lisabeth said, turning to refill her coffee mug and utterly ignoring Jon. “Do you want any coffee?”
“No, I’m fine,” Leila said, feeling flustered. “And he’s just this boy from school. He runs the environmental activist club I joined with Sarika. And he asked me to go on a bike ride.”
“And? What’s his name? Where’s he from? What grade is he in?”
“God, Liz. He’s actually a teacher. From New Jersey. He’s thirty-seven.”
“Ah, excellent,” Jon said from behind his paper. “Gainfully employed. I approve.”
“Jon, you are not helping,” Lisabeth frowned. “Come on, Leila, humor me.”
“It’s just . . .” Leila closed her eyes, the bright, soft light from her light box lighting up the back of her eyelids. She knew Liz was trying hard, and that her intentions were good. She could feel the anxiety rising up in her, and she wrestled against it.
Don’t push her, don’t push her away.
“Okay, his name is Shawn. I think he lives downtown, in the actual city, down in Queen Village. He said his parents have one of those green-energy, solar-paneled homes. Jon, you’d probably like him.”
Jon shrugged.
“That’s his jealous shrug,” Lisabeth said, grinning.
Jon shrugged again.
“I was thinking that, maybe . . .” Leila looked down at her hands. “Liz, you’re good with, you know, makeup and stuff. Do you think I should—”
“Not a chance,” Lisabeth said, putting down her coffee mug. She looked at Leila with focused, affirming eyes. “I see where you’re going with this, and no. Don’t do it.”
“But what if he doesn’t like all, you know, all this.” Leila pleaded, waving her hand in front of her face. Tears threatened to stream out of her eyes and she shook them back. It was frustrating, wanting to be true to herself and not cover up anything, but still wanting to be liked. And all of the “if he doesn’t like you for who you are” speeches didn’t quite cut it, even if she knew in her heart they were the truth. It didn’t change the way she felt.
“Should I leave? Do you need girl time?” Jon asked, putting down his paper. His tone lacked the usual humor, he was actually acting serious.
“No, it’s fine,” Leila said, suppressing a sniffle.