Chapter 7 – Day 4 (The Conclusion). God Must Hate Me.
-
"What a retard! He actually thought you were a girl?"
"Well, I was wearing full snowman regalia, so I can't blame him…"
"You shouldn't be so understanding! Be an unconditional bastard sometimes and call him a blind mole-rat or something similarly complimentary."
I know. The miracle has finally happened. I called Kai, who, upon coming to the restaurant, became suddenly more talkative. Aaaaand, he has even called this a date and confessed that he's in love with me.
Haha, I wish.
To separate the truth from the lies, I did call Kai. Or at least, I called our hotel room (I sadly have forgotten the magical walkie-talkie). However, there was no answer, probably because I vaguely remember him saying he wanted to go boarding on the night-lit runs. Of course, he said it in fewer words. Instead, I called the only other person I think I could stand spending an entire meal alone with. And no. It's not Tala.
I know what you're thinking. That I spend way too much time with Miguel, but if I didn't, I think I'd go insane. When the alternative is someone like Hiro (who will just moan about Brooklyn's renewed attempt to rebuff him) or (…shudder…) Mariah, I think I'll take a fellow gay-boy any day.
Okay, maybe it's time to set things straight about Mariah, 'cause I feel kind of mean slagging her off all the time. She's not that desperate, but she can be much worse than you've seen her on this holiday. Skiing calls for warm, thick clothes. Warm, thick clothes that cover. Some of the things I've seen her wear (or not wear, as the case may be) you would not believe. Some of the more revealing shirts have permanently scarred my eyes. I would have gouged out my eyes with a blunt spoon rather than see some of them.
In a nutshell, Mariah is kind, a romantic, very determined, conscientious, funny, up-beat and intelligent. The thing is, people see these lovely qualities and expect that I should like her for them. There is a fundamental problem with this, however: in my presence, all of these qualities are negated. In my presence, Mariah becomes a little…desperate. Note that I say this from the perspective of a man, a gay man at that. For all I know, this is perfectly normal behaviour among girls and, from what I have seen, this is indeed true.
I don't think I'll ever understand girls. They are shaped differently, sure, but I don't see how that makes them so different to us. I mean, there must be something wrong with their brains or something, because there are many quirks of their society that man will never comprehend. That's what their lives are all about, society. As a gay-boy and therefore concerned with my personality, looks and otherwise social standing, I do know to some extent the ways in which they operate. However, I have never, and will never, know why on earth a fight can be diffused with a compliment in the right tone and why one can be started with a compliment in another. For example, take this innocent sentence: 'But you're such good friends!'. Mathilda instructed me on this at a party once – we were fairly drunk and very bored – she said that if you put the emphasis on the 'friends' part, then bingo: instant friends, albeit the smiles might be a bit fixed. On the other hand, if you put the emphasis on the 'such', then you're in for a whole world of pain. Either that or you've got some show to watch. Another thing was that the emphasis must be subtle, or this will reveal your ineptitude at social manipulation and you will be ostracised forever.
Complicated, I know.
Where was I? Oh yes, Miguel is expecting me to say something. Anything. What were we talking about?
"Um…terracotta?"
He looks at me, blinks a couple of times, then bursts out laughing. Some of the other restaurant goers turn around, but he's too busy stifling his laughter in his napkin to notice.
"Ah, Ray. You make me laugh." No duh. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder why you're friends with a bunch of low-lives like us."
"Eh? You got me confused with someone else?"
"No!" He looks suddenly conspiratorial, as if he shouldn't be saying this. "Come on, Ray. You're funny, not because you like telling jokes but because of just you and your personality. You're always looking at things with a level head and you see all sides of the situation. You're friendly, not prejudiced, you're intelligent, you're beautiful. Truly, Ray, you could be model or something and leave the rest of us in the dust!"
Gosh darn it, that's the nicest thing anybody's ever said to me! My cheeks are brighter than a stop-light, I can tell.
"You don't mean that," I reply, looking out of the window, away from Miguel's earnest eyes and see a shadow beyond the reflections on the glass. Wait a minute…is that…?
Holy crap, it is.
I am sitting at a table for two in the swankiest restaurant on the mountain, with Miguel leaning over the table towards me saying really sweet things and a blush a shade of red brighter than that storm that constantly rages on Jupiter, with Kai outside, lifting up his goggles in disbelief.
Oh scheize.
"What's wrong?" I turn back to Miguel, who's looking at me worriedly. "You've gone from red to white like some kind of candy cane."
"I just saw-" but when I look back at the window, he's gone.
The rest of the meal passes with conversation about mundane things, along with a helping of gossip. Miguel and I part ways afterwards to our separate hotel rooms and Kai's already in bed when I get in. He's not asleep, I know. I get changed into my pyjamas and prepare myself for the belly of the beast.
"Kai?" I ask tentatively, sitting on the edge of his bed.
"Hn."
"Kai, what did I do?" No point in beating about the bush with Kai. He'll just tune you out. "Really, I know you're-" I almost say upset, but then I remember it's a taboo descriptive word. "-not happy and I know it's because of me."
"…"
"Please, Kai. I need to know what's wrong so I won't do it again. Just like training. If I'm launching wrong, then I could try it differently so many times until I get it right, or you could tell me what to do and I'd get it right first time. Please?"
"Forget it. It's nothing. Go to bed."
I sigh and turn to get into my own bed, but instead I climb under the covers with my captain and, surprisingly, he says nothing.
--
