Connections

I plop to the ground as we reach the plateau of our crest. I knew I needed to start working out, but I didn’t think I was this out of shape.

Andy sits beside me, his breathing a fraction as labored as mine. He opens his water bottle and takes a good sip, reminding me I should do the same. As I sip the water drips from my mouth and onto my sports bra but I could care less.

To joke but also to bitch a little, I ask, “Whose idea was it to hike up to the Hollywood sign in ninety degree heat?”

He laughs, unbothered. “We only did half the hike. Some people start all the way at the bottom of the hill. And it’ll be a little better getting back down.”

I wipe the perspiration from my upper lip and look out, trying to take in the view. We hiked up to a little overlook above the Hollywood sign, so we can see the back of the sign and also all of the trash behind it. I’d laugh if my lungs didn’t hurt so much. A hike I could handle, a steep uphill hike lasting longer than any of the other ones I’ve done without any shade because it’s Hollywood and not a forest or park or something? No bueno.

Blinking my eyes shut, I turn to see Andy, sitting comfortably, his skin aglow with that exercise sheen I’ll never obtain. He has dark sunglasses on and a Cincinnatti Bengals (of course) snapback on to shade his eyes. When he notices me gazing at him he looks at me and smiles. “What?”

The first thing my brain spouts out is, “How are you so comfortable?”

He laughs again. “Well, I try to hike more often and I’ve actually started going to the--”

“No, I mean, how are you so comfortable all the time?” I rephrase. “Everywhere you go you breathe comfort. You’re comfortable in the studio, hiking, on stage, taking strangers in, meeting new people. You always seem so...” And then it occurs to me why he sticks out so much, because he has an abundance of something I feel like I’m reaching for but I can only scratch the surface. “Happy.”

He raises his brows enough that I can see them over the frame of his sunglasses and it makes me readjust my own. He looks back out at the skyline. “I’m not always happy, Mina. Nobody is.”

“I know, I should’ve said it better,” I say, “but you’re always so relaxed and you’re smiling and...” I realize I don’t know how to finish the sentence because my brain gets stuck on the perfection of a simple smile from him.

He looks back at me, and he graces me with a small grin. “I guess I try to stay positive, even subconsciously, all the time. I have success in the career I’ve strived for my entire life, I have a house that I love and a mean looking car, I have more friends now than I’ve had in my entire life, and my family has stuck with me for the entire ride. I have a lot to be grateful for.”

I try to swallow the hurt he didn’t intend to inflict with his words. Instead I choke out, “That’s wonderful. Really...” I stare off again, trying to not meet his gaze. “...really wonderful.”

There’s a long pause in our dialogue, and all I hear for a few moments is the small breeze waving the palm trees and a muted version of the sounds I’d hear on the street. I shut my eyes for only a second, trying to take this moment and bottle it. Despite being sweaty and hot and tired and confused and distressed, this moment is peaceful. It’s something I don’t get very often at all.

I hear the bits of gravel in the dirt shift and in my peripheral I feel Andy scooting closer. He crosses his legs like mine and shifts forward, but for a moment he doesn’t say anything. I open my eyes and look out the corner of them to see him, but I can barely see the tip of his perfectly straight nose. Add on reasons to be happy: perfect jawline, cheekbones, nose, lips, eyes, eyelashes-- actually just perfect face.

Finally he turns his head towards me, but he’s looking down at my leg or the dirt instead of my face. “Mina,” he murmurs, and then he stops again. I can almost envision words on his tongue being rolled around until he picks the correct words and the correct order. I turn towards him, as if that would really make what he’s trying to think easier, and he glances up at me as I turn so we’re face-to-face. He sighs as he pulls his head up. “Mina, I really care about you and Davey.”

Quickly, my body goes rigid. If he continues what he’s saying does that mean we’re getting kicked out? Will he tell me he’s not ready for this type of commitment, that I warned him about previously? Will he tell me taking care of an eight-year old is too much for him and he’s not ready to be the male role model in a young boy’s---

“I want to help in literally any way I can,” he continues. “I know that helping is sort of a sore subject for you--” I bite my wince at the word, “but you and especially Davey mean a lot to me.” He pauses and licks his lips as he glances down at his lap. “You’re both welcome to stay as long as you want, and you know that. But I want to... Ah.” He looks out at the horizon.

“Andy spit it out,” I urge, my hands shaking. “If not for your anxiety then for mine.”

He looks back at me. “It’s your anxiety I’m worried about,” he says. He clears his throat. “I want to help find you a lawyer for Davey and when we find someone who will take the case I’m fully prepared to pay every cent needed to see this through.”

My chest seizes and I choke on words I don’t know how to say. My brain feels like the egg from the anti-drug commercial. I want to say no but also yes and I want to hug him and kiss him but keep as much distance from him as possible and cry and scream but jump and laugh and my body doesn’t know what to make of this. I feel like my nerves are surging with energy like the tides.

I choke out, “Andy, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes,” he murmurs, and he grabs my hands from my lap. “I know you don’t ask for help, but you don’t need to. Davey is an incredible kid. He’s gonna’ break rules until he grows up and changes them himself. He has his whole life in front of him and I can’t imagine standing aside to let his foster parents take that from him.” He bites his lip for a moment. “Why would I let a storm try to drown out the sun?”

Tears are pulling at my eyes and I can’t cover them once they’re past the sunglasses. I’m honestly trying to keep myself from crying. I’ve never asked for help from anybody. I got my full ride to USC by working my ass off and by myself. I did my internships, bought my car, and have been renting out this piece of shit apartment with my own support and money I made. While Grandma had always been around, she knew how important it was for me to make this journey on my own. I’ve never asked for help, but no one has ever offered.

I tear my sunglasses off so I can wipe my eyes, and for the first time I allow myself to be comfortable showing my true emotions to someone. When my eyes are dry I get onto my knees and reach over and hug him.

Startled, it takes a second for Andy to return the embrace. I squeeze onto him, and he opens his legs so I can scoot closer. We hold each other for a long moment, and I shamelessly cry into his shoulder. I feel his thumb gently caress my side as we hug, and the small gesture makes me weep one more gentle sob.

A person, a man no less, has aided me through personal struggles and turmoil, is risking himself to protect me and my little brother, and is willing to defend us as well as he possibly can for as long as he possibly can, and I didn’t have to ask. The way Andy has helped give Davey strength and tender affection he so desperately craved, he’s now giving to me tenfold.

I pull away enough to look at him, and I wipe one final tear away from my eye. “My answer is yes.” He grins, and I brush a stray hair from his head. “And this doesn’t mean anything,” I say before I lean right back in and kiss him the way I’ve always wanted to be kissed.

Notes

So I mean it's short but I was inspired to keep this alive.

I'm also considering moving this to my old Wattpad, just to see how it'll hold up to the rest of the bullshit I've written over there.

We shall see.

All my love,
~Niki X,,,,,,x