Chapter 21
not easy for me
and I can't breathe without you
but i have
and i can't breathe without you
but i have to
-breathe, taylor and colbie
"So I never found out who Isaac Asimov is, but you know, at least I'm working, and I have pay. You really don't remember the things you learn in school anyway."
– was what Karin was saying to Sasuke, as I creeped out the latrine (really dirty, by the way) and creeped by the tree. I listened, creeping.
"That's true," he agreed. "What with summer break coming to an end, I'm not looking forward to going back to college."
"You're majoring in Business and Economics, right?"
"Last time I checked. I might change, who knows."
"Eighty percent of college students change their majors once," said Karin wisely. "And of course, seventy-five percent change them twice."
"Hm." Silence. Then, "I can't imagine changing, though. My grandfather was a business entrepreneur, my father continued the business by being a finance manager and doing stocks. I'll have to inherit if they say anything about it."
"Must be tough," Karin said. "My mom doesn't care what I do. She didn't say a word when I veered off the acting road."
"I didn't know you stopped acting."
"I stopped it a year ago," she said nonchalantly. "It never gave me the meaningful work I wanted. I think Hinata stopped, too, but I'm not sure."
Apprehension crowding my temples, I decided to enter the conversation. I stepped away from the tree and walked in like being ten minutes late was perfectly natural.
"Here's Hinata," said Karin.
I grimaced. "Big entrance, right?"
She winked. "Sasuke and I were just talking about life after camp."
"Oh?" I saw her sly grin. "Care to enlighten me?"
She summed up the conversation, knowing full well I had been eavesdropping. "So that's that. It's too depressing; we're all finally growing up."
"I grew a long time ago," I muttered. It came out more jaded than I intended to.
Sasuke raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry. Growing up is hard."
I didn't look at him. "It is."
"They say the real world is worth it. Do you agree?"
Was that a competition I detected? I'd just heard him not five minutes earlier say he didn't want to follow his father's footsteps. "I'm not sure," I deadpanned. "I think if it's full of kindergarten's virtues, like nap time and coloring, it's definitely worth it. If it's high-heeled shoes and deadlines, I'm not so keen."
"I think being grown up will be a challenge, but I'm up for it," he said. "How else will we become self-actualized? We can't sit around diddling with crayons and paper. We can't color in the lines forever."
Nice analogy, I thought snidely. He was being very…intense today. Or very mocking. I couldn't make heads nor tails of it. He stood, stretching a little. He had a long white towel draped over his shoulders, so he wasn't completely…visible. He was slow and sure, but still disconcerting.
"I disagree," I said stubbornly, trying to sound sure of myself. I didn't know why it was so important to show him my views. "Remembering your past is important. More important than shallow things like high school, which isn't the real world." I was not a great debater, a great anything. I finished and watched him, waiting for him to attack my measly defense. It was all I could do.
"I don't believe that high school and college under-prepares us for the real world," he said firmly. "I've worked long hours and met impossible deadlines in high school, haven't I? – just like any "adult". But I can see why you might feel under-prepared. You are changing your hobby, after all."
He might have been trying to be understanding, conciliatory, but all I knew was that at his words I felt ice at my spine and my shoulders shaking. There was something very frightening about cold sweat on a hot day. I knew he was playing a game, but I didn't what it was, exactly.
"Acting was never my hobby," I said quietly.
"Doesn't matter. You're under-prepared anyway."
I finally looked at him. Our gazes locked, mine furious, his uninhibited.
"I never said I want to go into the real word," he said quietly. "Or for you to go into it. But it's there, and I Was wondering how you'd take it."
He rose, scattering droplets of water that arced and caught the sun. I harbored the thought that the only reason they shone was because they had touched him.
Karin was silent when we had free time together after lunch. She only looked at me, examining my face.
"As you can see, we have no chemistry together," I stated without looking at her. I was rearranging the tablecloth. "In fact I don't think we ever did. I don't know what could have misled you – "
"Oh, don't be stupid, Hinata," she broke in. She dropped the used spoons and forks into the garbage bag. "It's called subtlety."
"I know there wasn't yelling or whatever," I told her, feeling my fists clench," but even I could tel he was pretty derisive towards me."
"Not derisive, Hinata. Think! God; why would he ask those questions?"
"He's a nosy-body! He wants to spread his views on everybody, though I do not obviously believe in them. The real world – my God!"
"All right, maybe h has his views. But it doesn't mean he was forcing them on you."
"Karin, listen –"
"I'm sorry, but you get your head out of the dirt and you listen. I'm trying to get you to understand…"
"I don't need you to teach me, Karin. I can go ask Sasuke myself."
"No, listen – "
"I'm not – " I stood up and turned my back to her; " – listening." It was one of those instances my body acted before I thought it out. It walked away, and I wanted tot ell her, explain o her, that I'd been analyzing Sasuke's emotions, actions, words, for so long I simply did not wish to do it anymore. I did not want to read the subtext; I wanted things to be simpler. But I didn't tell her. Like a bad friend, I left her hanging.
I ran to him, I'm ashamed to admit. I was so caught up in the frenzy of deciphering his words that I just had to know what he meant. I was caught up in the cycle, like every preteen. Questions of what did he mean, did he ask them because he likes me or hates me, does he hate me I can't bear it oh no oh no oh no –
He was in the deeper waters, with Naruto and most the boys, and the flash of his image on my retinas was so searing, so incredible and bright and everything that I became someone else, someone reckless and intrepid and more beautiful than I was, and I leaped into the water and soared through the air like a bird, and landed and swam to him like a fish.
Beautiful Hinata, lovely Hinata, he'd say. He'd say this: I think those words were my imagination speaking, and I really don't care about the rest of the world. He'd say: I love you and want to take you far, far away where I can do delicious things to you and we will always be together because I love you and have always loved you from the moment I saw you and I know you love me too, I see the look in your eyes.
I pushed my way across the lake, my t-shirt and shorts clinging to me. The water was getting deeper. I had pushed my feet from the bottom now, and get a quick breath of air before going down and pushing myself back up. I did this because I was lazy, and could do this before the water got too deep. The boys were all the way across the lake in a shallow expanse of it, but they had walked around the parameter of the lake, thoughtful people they were. Me, I'd just taken the most direct approach, and now, with the lake becoming deeper than six feet, I was treading water.
No matter. I could doggy paddle. And do a complicated breast stroke if need be. The physical aspect of swimming for a few hundred feet didn't daunt me. I only wanted to brace myself for the mental aspect I needed when I arrived on the other side.
"Breathe," I said. My words were swallowed by the lapping of the waves against my body. It was cool, delicious. I'd stay here forever except I knew the longer I stayed in the more uncomfortable it would be when I got out. I'd be chattering and my feet and hands would be prunes.
Maybe I could make a bubble suit. I could live out here forever without being prune-y. Things would be perfect. Ah, but that's not the real world, said a snide voice. I said back to it, but that's the problem. There is no 'real' real world. And I ignored it and kept swimming, my frenzied dog paddling being replaced by a more slow, sure technique. He didn't even hear me when I put my hand on his warm, dry shoulder.
"I'll be back in one second," was what he had told Naruto, almost cheerfully evicting himself from his counselor position and having Naruto take command of the campers alone. But he'd lied. We had been sitting here for ten minutes now, much more than a mere second, and I was starting to wonder just how large Naruto's rage could grow.
"I really think you should go back now," I told him.
"You've been saying that ever since we cam here in the first place," he pointed out. "Any other round-breaking statement?"
"You've become more cynical," I said.
"Just jaded," he said. He picked up a few orange pine needles, flung them far. The wind swept them back and they landed on his collar, his neck.
I was cold. "We should really be getting back," I insisted.
He said to me, "I don't understand. I thought you wanted to talk to me."
"I did."
"Talking about the weather doesn't count," he said.
"All right, then. What about talking about the real world?"
"Oh, dear." He peered at me. Much too close; I skittered back. We were sitting in the forest overlooking the pond, but nobody from the pond could see us. I had forgotten that we'd sat under a tree with low hanging branches. My head made a dull thud and leaves flapped my face. I saw stars.
"The real world," I said, blushing scarlet, trying to be back on track, pretending that had never happened. "You know. What you just talked to me about and ended up leaving. You left me hanging. What – what do you mean? And why?"
"It's a stupid thing, the real world," he said with a flash of anger. "I wish I hadn't mentioned that."
"But you talk about it like it's a good thing. Life after camp. You know where you're going."
"do I, now? I was asking you questions earlier because I was curious. I want to know if you are doing something you love or you are doing something that is financially secure and so scheduled it will drive you crazy. Like what I will be doing. Accounting, my god."
"I don't understand," I said stupidly.
He looked at me, down, at the leaves clinging to my shirt, then my bare legs. "Are you going to pursue what you love?" he asked quietly.
"I – I hope so," I said. "I – I haven't really thought…thought about it."
"The kids," he said abruptly."At camp. Do you like working with them?"
The kids…I thought of Keito, Rue, all those adorable kids, even those who were not-so-adorable, and I thought, and I said, "Yes. I love camp." I don't know why, but I started to cry.
"Do you like it here? Do you never want to leave?"
No, no, his questions were throwing down my barriers. I thought of Karin, how much I liked her, how wise she was, of Kiba, TenTen, Neji, and him. I could not bring myself to speak, so I nodded. I wiped my eyes, my ugly, red face. I faced away from him and I only nodded.
"And me?" he asked. It was a whisper, and the wind was strong, but his words were the cleaest sounds I heard. I shook, and I nodded. The eyes I had just wiped dry started up again. Faucets, I thought. Fountains. Soon I was sobbing and his arms were around me and I couldn't remember the last time I had been held.
It's you, I wanted to shout at him, but I was incoherent, crying too hard. I didn't even know why. I never knew why. I wanted to tell him, I've always loved you. I wanted to wave banners, send him those stupid capitalistic Valentine's Day Cards, meaningless but meaningful just between the two of us. I was trying to remember the last time he had cared for me like this, and I remembered the hospital at Konoha, and I wondered why I had left.
"It's all right, it's all right," he was saying to me, but I wanted to push him away so I could see him and tell him everything about me, because I needed someone to listen. I wanted to tell him in coherent sentences that I loved the camp and I didn't want to leave it, leave him, and I didn't know what I would do when I was grown up but I would hate, absolutely hate, to be without him.
Somehow my emotions were conveyed enough, and I didn't need to tell him all that. I don't know how he knew. He has always known me.
"You don't have to worry," he said. "And I'm not feeding you some empty words! I'm telling you, you don't have to worry. I'll be here. I want to tell you, I want to tell you the years you were apart, I still thought of you…you're stupid for leaving, and I can't, I can't express…in words…"
He pulled away finally, but he didn't let me speak. He made a movement of his head, and his mouth was bitter-tasting and sweet, moving like velvet against mine, and I felt it, his understanding that this was not all easy for me, and alongside this, I heard the singing of all the feelings I had ever hoped to feel.
pretty prose.