Summary: "I use my mouth less than I use my eyes and ears." / In which Maya Hart watches her world instead of being a part of it.
Song: Radio by Ed Sheeran.
As an artist Maya Hart has learned not to express her feelings through words, so instead she spills her thoughts and feelings on paper in pictures that she doesn't quite understand. They feature the happily ever after's that she has imagined but doesn't believe will happen for her and they highlight the deep insecurities that that have built over time.
She doesn't understand why her dad left or why her mom cries some days when the weight of everything feels like it's closing in and she definitely doesn't understand why Riley has such a great life when she doesn't.
The jealousy eats at her insides every morning when she's at the Matthews apartment and she lingers around at the front door, listening as they chat happily. It jars her into the reality that her family life will never be that and her feelings often give way to guilt when she realizes that she's hating on her best friend for having a family with both parents who love her and each other and a little brother who isn't too bad considering- even taking into account how bad his taste in girlfriends is.
She has her own version of a family, she does, but it's not "normal" and that's what she craves.
Her nana lives with them because granddad died a few years ago and she really had nowhere else to turn, and she does have her mother who Maya knows loves her very much. If her mom didn't care she wouldn't have notes greeting her on the fridge most mornings that tell her to have a good day and that food for dinner is in the fridge or there wouldn't be late night comforting after nightmares with cups of chocolate pudding and hushed whispering until she was tired again. She knows that her mom does her best to provide for her but she wished that didn't mean her working so much.
The roof of the apartment leaks when it rains and the plinking of water in the collection bucket often inspires Maya to draw because that's when the weather reflects her mood. She likes to look out the window at the soaked alley, sketching people who walk by at the street, sheltering their heads with their umbrellas and hoods but her favorite thing is to draw people as they are- their faces tight with sadness or anger, eyebrows furrowed and forehead crinkled. People who smile exuberant smiles or people who run their hands through their hair as they laugh. Sometimes, if a face is particularly memorable, she likes to create scenarios for their lives.
Art is as important to her life as much as her friends and both of her versions of family, but the part she has the most trouble with is guys. It's a strange balance act between wanting the close physical contact of a male presence- whether it be a father figure like Mr. Matthews or a cute guy like Riley' uncle Josh- and wanting to push everyone away because she's independent and can handle life herself.
She thinks that her fascination with Josh Mathews is based on the fact that he's the dark and handsome guy that most girls fall for at least once in their lives, as if it's a female predisposition to do so and because he looks cute with the boyish curls that surround his face when he wears his beanie, but on the deepest level unbeknownst to her, it's because he's older and therefore more likely able to provide what she craves. She remembers the soft touch of his hand on her head as she lay half asleep on the couch during the Matthews game night and she wants to have that forever.
It is a different type of fascination she has for Lucas Friar because he is a walking contradiction. He is a Huckleberry and Ranger Rick who always does the right thing, yet he can also get angry at the drop of a hat. He is handsome and doesn't flaunt it. He is athletic but treats everyone equally. He's strange and unorthodox and she likes that.
Her relationship with him- romantic or friendship- is a fine line that she often toes, between the late night talks with him on the phone Mr. Matthews gave her or the ha'hurrs that end with her face just inches from his lips and the simple shoulder touches as they sit purposefully close together. It all came to a head as he cupped her face in Texas. The night air was chilly, made different by the fire at her side and the heat of his hands as his breath fanned on her face. It smelled of mint and her first thought was to kiss him and the second thought to wrench away because he was Riley's and she couldn't do anything to hurt her friend. It couldn't happen because he was too good for her anyway.
Maya loves the honey to her peaches because at this point Riley is more like a sister than a friend. She remembers the day that she met her in vivid detail and given that she was five that seems like a major accomplishment.
Her mother had been at work and her dad had waved her away because he was sleeping, even though it had been past noon and she was bored. It had been a little scary, walking down the crowded streets and to be on her own in such a fast paced city but it was exciting and she wanted to explore. She isn't sure what made her climb up that particular fire escape, or why, but in retrospect she thinks it's the best decision she had ever made. Halfway up the fire escape she was drawn to the petite brunette she found who seemed to be about her age with not yet discovered pain hidden in her dark eyes by a façade of cheeriness and bright colors and a horrible singing voice.
"What are you singing about?" she hears the younger version of herself say as she thinks about it and from that point on they were inseparable.
She remembers when they had walked out of Riley's room, with some coaxing from Riley herself and the warmth of her hand as she tugged her new friend out to meet her parents. Cory and Topanga had been wary of her at first- what parents wouldn't be when a strange girl came out of their daughter's bedroom that they didn't know- but they wouldn't let her go back home alone so they called her mom at work to assure her that her daughter was in good hands and where to pick her up that night.
Katy had been furiously scared and she hugged her daughter fiercely, whispering into her ear repeatedly not to do something stupid like this again.
She chuckles because of course she did it again but this time she went to her new friend's door. Now that she is more aware of the dangers of the city Maya understands her mom's reaction and finds that she is lucky nothing bad ever happened to her.
She also understands now why she was drawn to Riley. It's because she is the opposite of herself. Riley, with the hopeful and happy personality to compensate for her own pessimistic nature and Maya being the grounding force for her friend when Riley's fingers begin to flutter aimlessly on her thigh when she has nothing to meddle in.
When she isn't on the subway with Riley she likes to plug her earbuds into her ears to block the world around her and inspect the lines and creases in her palms and the swirls of fingerprints on the pads of her fingers. It's a relatively new thing, this habit of looking at her hands, and she likes to think that they would tell something about herself to the people who saw them. Sometimes she would notice paint underneath her scarce nails or her fingertips would be black from charcoal and hope that people would know she's an artist with something to say.
In front of the bathroom mirror at night she dresses in a ratty old t-shirt and sweatpants that serve as her pajamas. Without the makeup that she deliberately puts on every morning before rushing off to the Matthews she feels like she looks much younger than her fifteen years. She criticizes herself often- her cheeks are too round and they look weird when she smiles. Her lips are too full and her eyes too far apart to be truly beautiful.
She smiles at herself and it looks fake. The only thing she likes about herself are her eyes themselves. Bright green in color, ringed with grey and thick eyelashes they hold her truest feelings if one looks close enough.
It's because of her love of her eyes that she plays the game where she flicks the light off in the bathroom, moving her hand in front of her face in the inky darkness until her eyes adjust to the dark, and flipping the light back on to watch her pupils dilate. She knows the science behind it all- that the pupils change to let more light in or not- but she likes to think that it's her eyes natural way of hiding her secrets.
She sits at a table in Topanga's where she waits for the bulochki and smoothie that Topanga gives her the afternoons that she takes off from the law firm. Maya allows her mind to wander as her pencil flies across the blank page, sketching soft outlines of her friends by the couch where they sit in various positions doing homework that she too should be doing.
Farkle sits with his feet on the floor, hunched over his math textbook and notebook, scribbling out his answers in his neat boyish handwriting. Riley sits with her back against Farkle's legs, her long legs criss-crossed as she types up a paper for her father's class. Lucas has his eyebrows crinkled in concentration as he reads the current book Harper has assigned them and when he turns the page he occasionally looks up at her. When that happens her eyes flick down to her paper until she can no longer feel his eyes on her, and when she glances up again he has his arm draped casually over the back of the couch.
Maya likes to compare her drawings of what her friends used to look like and now. When she used to draw them there were things that defined them- doe eyes, muscular arms and turtlenecks of all colors. Now all she sees is unguarded hurt in the doe eyes of her best friend, piercing green eyes that see her when she doesn't want to be seen, and a more grown up version of the scrawny little boy she knew as a preschooler.
Maya tries not to notice the hurt and pain darkening in Riley's eyes even when she smiles because if she tried to fix her she would only break her further. She always breaks things and she can't break her friend. There is nothing that she can do and if she says anything she knows that Riley will just deny it.
She tries not to notice the long stares that Farkle sends Riley's way and she tries not to notice when Lucas glances at her with something more in his eyes than friendship. She tries not to notice but she is a radio- drawing towards her the waves of her friends without even trying and relaying what they think they want to see. She is a radio.