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“What’s yours?”
“I struggle with my body image sometimes…feeling like I’m not small enough or sometimes too thin, but I don’t let it get me to the point that I’m ready to shut the world out. Besides, when I look at you, I don’t see your face.”
“How could you not?”
“Because I look beyond it so I can see the real you. Looks aren’t everything, you know.”
“Says the most beautiful girl in high school.”
She blushed. “Aw…you think I’m beautiful? You never told me that before, Stewart.”
Even with the mask, I shied away from her. How could she not know she was beautiful? Everything about her screams beauty.
I asked, “What do you see when you look at me?” Since she said she doesn’t see this mole on my face, I wanted to know what it was she saw.
“I see a good guy with a heart of gold,” she said.
A good guy with a heart of gold…
How could she look beyond my physical appearance to see who I really am? That baffled me. But should I be surprised? No. Quintessa is special. She’s the girl who teamed up with me in biology for a science experiment, knowing I wasn’t good with science. The girl who taught me how to swim in the pool behind her parent’s house. The girl who made herself available to be my friend all throughout high school. She was always there for me. She knew me. Understood me. Those four years may have flown by, but they gave her time to get to know me. Gave us time to get to know each other.
“Come on, Stewart. Dance. Move your hips and stop being so stiff.”
“I’m moving,” I said. I couldn’t move as freely as her – had too much weight on me to do that, but I did the best I could to keep up with her. And when a series of slow songs played, she leaned close to me, resting her chin on my shoulder. My body locked up, tingled and I almost lost my footing when I felt the warmness of her breath near my ear when she whispered, “I could dance with you all night, Stewart.”
“I could dance with you all night, too, my sweet angel.”
“Stop it, Stewart. You’re going to make me cry.”
“Please don’t. I was saying that to make you happy. I—”
“Essex?”
I blink out of my trance and focus on her again when I hear her say my name. “Yes?”
“Welcome back.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You just zoned out on a sista.”
“Sorry.” I stand up and gather our empty takeout containers, toss them in the trash, and we walk together back in the direction of the waiting room.
I say, “I could stay a little longer if—”
“No. You should get back to work. I’ll be fine now that I know my mother is okay.”
“All right,” I say, checking my watch. “As you wish.”
“I’ll walk with you to your car,Mr. DePaul.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
“Okay.”
When we’re outside, she pulls in fresh air and releases her worries into the atmosphere. I take her hand. Hold it. Cherish the softness of it. I remember the way they felt in my hands all those years ago when we danced – when she rested her head on my shoulder.
