You lie awake at night,

With blue eyes that never cry.

All you remember now is what you feel.

Sad like a lonely child,

Broken the day you're born.

I held the light to you but I was so vain.

- "Feel the Silence" by The Goo Goo Dolls

Zuko

We get our sandwiches from Shyu's, and as I'm about to start the car, Katara stops me with a hand on my forearm.

"Hey, do you think we can stop by my house first?" she asks.

I look over at her. "Uh, sure. Why?"

"I was thinking about grabbing my camera." She fidgets with her hands as though she's a little embarrassed. "If we're going to set up the business page, we should probably get a good picture of the storefront for the cover photo. What do you think?"

I give her a half-smile. "I think that's a great idea."

Her responding smile is small and one of relief. I turn the engine over and drive toward Katara's house.

"I can grab my laptop too, so we can get the picture edited and uploaded to Facebook for the business page."

I glance over at her. "I have a laptop."

She offers me another smile. "I have photo editing software on mine. Photography is sort of a hobby of mine."

"Okay," I say.

When I pull up to her house—an old church, of all things—there's an older Ford truck parked in the gravel.

"My dad's home. That's weird." She looks over at me. Her brow is furrowed, and there's a little wrinkle in her skin between them. "He should be at work."

I frown. "Do you think something's wrong?"

"I don't know." She rests her hand on the door handle, her brow knitting. "I'll be right back."

Katara gets out of the car and heads to the front door. I watch her disappear inside. I stay in the car, breathing in the smell of warm bread that makes my stomach rumble and wait for Katara to reappear.

She does, nearly fifteen minutes later (not that I'm keeping track or anything), with a backpack slung over one shoulder. There is a man following behind her that can only be Katara's dad.

My mouth goes dry and I swallow hard. Know it is the unspoken rule of men to introduce myself, I unbuckle my seat belt and step out of the car, turning to face them as they approach me.

"My dad wanted to meet you." Katara gives me a small smile. Her eyes seem to say I'm sorry, I tried to talk him out of it but he wouldn't listen. She glances back at her father over her shoulder. "Dad, this is Zuko."

"Of course," I say, hoping I don't sound as nervous as I feel. "It's no problem."

Her father sizes me up while I try not to fidget nervously. He's not my father, I remind myself. He just wants to see the guy who's been hanging around his daughter.

Katara looks a lot like him. The eyes are the same shape and color, and their hair is a matching shade of chocolate brown. Their skin is the same warm caramel color. Her father stands a head and shoulders taller than Katara, and at least an inch taller than me.

He steps past Katara and offers me his hand. "I'm Hakoda. It's nice to meet you." His voice isn't as deep as I imagined it would be for a man of his size, but it still holds a calm, commanding authority that I admire.

I shake his hand and I'm suddenly grateful for the hours I spent practicing my handshake with Uncle after my father picked it apart and called me weak. Hakoda has a strong grip, and I want to show him that I'm not weak. That I'm good enough to be friends with his daughter. How a handshake equates to that, I don't know, but somehow it feels like it does.

"Likewise, sir."

Hakoda releases my hand and lets out a laugh. "Oh no, don't give me any of that sir crap. It makes me feel old. Just call me Hakoda."

Relief floods through me. Hakoda seems to be nothing like my father and it puts me at ease.

"Yes, si—Hakoda."

He chuckles. His eyes comb over me again, hesitating for just a moment on my scar. "Katara tells me you and your uncle are opening a tea shop. Is that right?"

"Uh, yeah." I resist the urge to rub the back of my neck. "We're hoping to open the first week of April. We'll miss the spring break rush, but what can we say. The old owner left quite a bit of work for us to do." I shrug.

Hakoda nods as though he's digesting that. "Yeah, old Zei let it get out of hand. But I wouldn't worry too much. The big crowds don't come until summer anyway. Most of the spring break folks are whale watchers. Summer is where you'll get most of your business." He smirks. "And I hear you've recruited my daughter to help get you set up."

Heat rises in my cheeks and my eyes slide over to Katara. She senses my discomfort and digs an elbow into her dad's ribs as she rolls her eyes.

"Hey, I offered my help," she tells him. Her eyes fall on me. "And we've got more work to do, so we should probably get going. Right, Zuko?"

"Right," I say.

Hakoda looks between the two of us before his gaze settles on me again. "Alright. Don't have her out too late, okay?"

I bob my head. "Yes, s—Hakoda." This time I don't resist the urge to rub the back of my neck. "Sorry about last night. Time got away from us."

"Don't worry about it." Hakoda smiles at me. I search it for traces of malice, and don't find any. "Just don't let it happen again." He points his finger at me, but he's still smiling a bit. It's not a real threat, at least not one with any actual consequences. And he's still smiling when he says it.

Katara rolls her eyes. "Come on, Dad." She gives me an apologetic smile, but I shrug again.

"Fine, fine." He holds his hands up peaceably. Hakoda looks at me again. "Hey, did Katara invite you to our barbecue?"

I glance over at Katara. "Uh, no."

Hakoda arches a brow at her, and she shrugs sheepishly. "It never came up."

"Well, consider this an invitation then, Zuko." Hakoda offers me another smile. "We barbecue every spring break. We invite just about the whole town. It's a whole big thing. Bring your uncle, too."

"Okay, I will. Thank you."

"It's next Saturday, at the end of the break." Hakoda offers me his hand again, and I shake it. "It was good to meet you. See you around."

"Yeah. See you around."

Hakoda goes back into the house, but before I can ask Katara what that was all about, she's already climbing back into my car. I get back in as well and look over at her.

"Sorry about that," she says as she buckles up. "I didn't mean for my dad to bombard you out of nowhere."

"What? It's fine." I look at her. "He seems nice."

"He is," Katara says. Then she lets out a sigh. "But he does this thing where he gets really overprotective. Which is why he insisted on coming out to meet you when I told him you were here, which is a little ridiculous, since I'm an adult perfectly capable of making my own decisions." She huffs out another breath before she meets my gaze. "And you don't have to go to the barbecue if you don't want to."

"I don't mind. Who doesn't love some good barbecue?" I give her a reassuring smile. "Besides, I wouldn't want to offend him."

"I just don't want you to feel like you have to..." She trails off, and when she looks up at me I can see it in her eyes that she wants me to go.

"It's no big deal. Besides, it sounds like a good time. And once my uncle hears about it he'll want to go. He'll consider it a perfect opportunity for advertising the Jasmine Dragon."

I crack a smile, and Katara giggles, honest-to-spirits giggles, and I think I'd do anything she asks me to just to hear that sound again.

Katara

We get back to the Jasmine Dragon and Zuko clears off a table and two chairs for us to eat at. I sit down in the chair he pulls out for me and dig out my laptop. Zuko disappears into the kitchen and comes back with two glass bottles of Coke in his hands before he sits down beside me.

"Thank you," I tell him. I boot up my laptop. "What's the WiFi password?"

Zuko gives it to me as he pulls our sandwiches out of the bag, and I open up Facebook and log out of my account. I push my laptop toward him.

"Go ahead and sign in so we can start the business page," I say as I reach for my sandwich. Since my breakfast meeting with Toph and Aang went sour and I didn't actually get to eat, I'm starving. "Have you ever made one before?"

"No, but it's pretty self-explanatory, right?" Zuko looks up at me.

"Yeah, it is."

I watch his pale fingers dance across my keyboard and I can't help but observe that he doesn't even look at the keyboard as he types. When he pushes the laptop back to me, he's already got the starting page for a business page set up. I adjust the laptop so we can both see it.

"We'll need to get the cover photo, but we can do that when we're done eating," I say. "So for now let's just fill out the information."

We eat while Zuko adds the business name, type, address, and phone number. He sets up the hours and the opening day: April 4th. While he works, I'm thinking.

When we stopped by my house, Dad had asked me how breakfast with Aang and Toph went. I didn't want to get into it right then, so I had hedged an answer and then told him Zuko was waiting outside for me. Dad's demeanor had shifted at that point, and he had insisted on coming out to meet him. I had tried to talk him out of it, but Dad and I are the same: once we have our minds set on something, we're not easily deterred.

The introduction didn't go as horribly as I'd worried it would—and really, why would it? It's not like Zuko is a boyfriend I'm bringing home to meet my father—and I'm not even that upset he invited Zuko to our barbecue instead of me. I had wanted to, but I'd been hesitant because Jet will be there. But it seems that Dad solved that problem for me.

Maybe it won't be so bad, especially since Toph and Aang won't be there now. I'm not looking forward to having that conversation with my father, though.

"Okay, I think I've got it all."

Zuko's voice breaks me from my thoughts and I look over at the laptop. The page is up and all of the info has been added. I glance over at him and see he's looking at me expectantly, as if he's waiting for my approval.

"It looks great." I smile. "Now we just need that cover photo."

We're done eating, so while Zuko clears away our trash I get out my camera and turn it on. I get up from the table and drift around the room, snapping a few pictures of the work Zuko and I have done.

"What are those for?"

"You want to post frequently," I say. "So that the page pops up on people's newsfeeds. So, I'm getting some pictures for your first post."

"Oh." I look over at Zuko. He's watching me take the pictures.

"Also, you can pay Facebook to run ads for it. I've never had to do it for Dad's page, but we also know the whole town, so it was pretty easy to invite everyone to like it." I walk back to Zuko, feeling my heart rate speed up. "If you add me on Facebook, I'll invite my friends to like it."

I catch the way his eyes widen fractionally, just for a moment, before he nods. "Yeah, okay." He goes back to the computer and taps at the keyboard for a moment. Then he looks over his shoulder at me with a timid smile. "Done."

"Great. I'll be sure to share your post on my dad's page, and the page that supports local businesses too, so everyone can see it."

The corner of his lips turn up in a smile. "Thanks."

We go outside to take the cover photo. It's a good day to take one. As I predicted, the fog has burned off and the clear blue sky and sunshine smiles down on us. It illuminates the red brick face of the building and the gold lettering on the emerald-green canopy over the front of the building which states the business's name.

I step back to the edge of the sidewalk and bring my camera up to my face. I focus the frame so I only get the Jasmine Dragon in it. Our reflections are visible in the plate glass window, but with a little photoshop magic, I'll be able to get rid of it.

I snap several photos, adjusting the frame ever so slightly so we can choose the best one, and then Zuko and I go back inside. I connect my camera to my laptop and open up the gallery to transfer the photos. Zuko sits beside me, close enough his arm brushes mine as he leans in to look at the pictures I took. I can smell his cologne and I try not to breathe it in too deeply. It smells just like his hoodie, and it's intoxicating.

"I'm going to use photoshop to get rid of our reflections," I tell him. "But let's go ahead and pick the best picture first."

Zuko and I spend a few minutes studying the photos I've taken. They're all basically the same, but we veto them based on minor details: a car driving past in two of them, a few more being slightly out of focus. We pick one, and I boot up Photoshop. My last project loads and suddenly Aang and Toph are filling the screen, laughing at something Toph said. We were at Tiffanie's having breakfast a month ago. How did things change so drastically so quickly?

I save the project and close it. I peek over at Zuko. He'd seen it.

"That's Aang and Toph," I mutter as I open the new image.

"Oh." He clears his throat. Then, quietly: "I'm sorry that you guys are fighting."

I shrug as I start to work on the picture. "It's okay. We'll get over it. We always do." But honestly, I'm not so sure we will.

"How long have you guys been friends?" Zuko asks as he stands up. He crosses the room to where we were last painting.

"I've known Aang since kindergarten. Toph moved here in the sixth grade."

I begin to erase the reflection in the window. The image is blurred, but I can see me standing there with my camera blocking my face. When I look at Zuko, prominent in his faded Levi's and red t-shirt, I'm surprised to see he's not looking up at the storefront. He's looking at me. It's hard to see his exact expression, but there's something there, in his blurry face, and before I realize I'm doing it, I'm saving a copy of the untouched photo.

My eyes flicker to Zuko. His back is to me as he paints smooth strokes on the wall. I can see just a sliver of the right side of his face, and I see his brow is furrowed in concentration. I watch the muscles of his arm shift beneath his creamy skin as he paints, and his jeans aren't bad on the eyes either.

Where did he come from? What path led him here, to this tiny, inconsequential town on the coast from the jungle of Seattle? How did he get the scar that marks nearly half of his face? Who is he? I don't have answers for these questions, but I want them.

"That's a long time," Zuko remarks. He glances over his shoulder at me and I see the corner of his lips turn up. "I don't know exactly what happened, but if you guys have been friends for that long, I bet you'll make up sooner or later."

"Thanks."

I return the smile, and Zuko goes back to his work. I return to mine, but my gaze drifts back to him. Before I realize what I'm doing, I grab my camera, turn it on, put it on silent, and line up the shot. I snap the photo. It's a good shot: the early-afternoon light is starting to filter in through the window, highlighting Zuko in shades of gold. He's perfectly accented against the sun ray's, and it's a great candid shot.

When I look at the picture on the tiny display screen, I'm amazed by how perfect the shot came out. He's beautiful.

Zuko

I take Katara home around 6 pm. We finished the second wall and got the cover photo updated on the Facebook page. She had even designed a quick profile picture of the logo Uncle had settled on. Uncle got home a little after 5 pm, and he offered for Katara to stay for dinner. She politely declined and said she needed to get home to make dinner for her father, at which point we call it a night. We clean up and get into my car, and then I drive her home.

I pull onto the gravel in front of her house and put the car in park. Once again, I find myself reluctant to let her go. And while I'm trying to come up with a way to keep her for just a few more minutes, she speaks up.

"Same time tomorrow?" I look up and find her eyes on me, her lips curved into a friendly smile that tugs at my heart.

I smile back. "Yeah, that works for me. Do you...want me to come pick you up?"

Katara nods, and a lock of hair that has slipped out of her bun falls against her cheek. She reaches up and tucks it into place behind her ear.

"Yeah, I'd like that," Katara says. She opens the door, and a cool breeze that smells like the sea blows through the car. I smell her too, either her soap or perfume, the luscious scent of vanilla and cherry blossoms. "Good night, Zuko."

"Good night, Katara."

I watch her walk up to her front door. She's framed in the yellow porch light and the dying glow of the sun. I admire the curve of her hips for a brief moment before I drag my eyes down to the gearshift and shift into reverse. I glance back up at her one more time to see her hesitating in the doorway.

When I catch her eye, she smiles again, and I swear, she is so beautiful bathed in the golden light that my heart actually stops for a moment. She's celestial. I smile back, and then she disappears inside. I back out onto the road and head home, the ghost of her smile echoing in my brain. I'm in more trouble than I thought.

I pull up into the alley and park behind Uncle's Corolla. I go upstairs and into the loft. The smell of chicken and vegetables hits me, and when I poke my head into the kitchen I find that he's making chicken stir fry.

"Did you get Miss Katara home safely?" Uncle asks when he sees that I'm back.

I head into the living room and flop onto the couch, tired from another day of painting. "Yeah, I did. I met her dad today."

Uncle looks over at me, eyebrows raised. "Oh? How did that go?"

"Hakoda seems nice. He invited both of us to his barbecue next weekend. He and Katara told me half the town will be there."

"Oh, that's good! What a perfect opportunity to advertise."

I roll my eyes and snort out a laugh. I'll have to tell Katara that I totally called it tomorrow.

I pull out my phone and check my notifications. I see one from Facebook: Katara Kuruk has accepted your friend request. Curiously, I open the app and click on the notification. I only got the briefest look at her profile that afternoon, and I want to look a little more.

Her profile picture is a selfie. I can tell she's standing on the beach, and the sunlight catches the water behind her. Her hair is down and blowing in the breeze, and she's smiling. Her cover photo is a sunset. It's beautiful, with streaks of pink, orange, and purple staining the underbellies of yellow-tinged clouds. I wonder if she took that photo herself.

I scroll down her timeline. She seems to mostly post cute memes of little cartoon animals, but she shares a lot of posts from a page called Hakoda's Boat Repair & Maintenance. She posts photos of more sunsets and sunrises, close-ups of dew-soaked grass and frosted flowers. There's also pictures of her friends, Toph and Aang, curled up in what might be her living room watching a movie, or out to eat at Nan's or a restaurant called Tiffanie's. The address is here in town.

When I scroll back to December, I see her posts from Christmas. Decorating the tree, frosting sugar cookies, a picture of her dad and a young man who looks just like Katara sitting on a couch and opening their presents. A little further down, I finally see him. Her boyfriend.

He's a little scruffy looking, with shaggy brown hair, arched eyebrows and a charming smile. He's got his arms around her and he's pressing a kiss to her cheek. You're the best gift I could have asked for, her caption reads. Merry Christmas. He looks familiar, but I can't quite place him. There's no way I should know him, but I can't shake the feeling that I do, from somewhere.

I keep scrolling. I make it to Thanksgiving. She's taken a picture of a dinner table covered in a white cloth, with a feast laid out on it. I recognize Hakoda and the young man who must be her brother. There's an old woman too, with the same blue eyes, who might be her grandmother. There's also an older man with stern eyes. The boyfriend isn't there this time.

I scroll some more. I make it to Halloween. She's at a party, one with neon lights and everyone in Halloween costumes. She's dressed up like Alice from Alice in Wonderland, but the dress is shorter and falls to the middle of her thighs. She's with Aang, Toph, and her brother. Aang, who's dressed up as a pirate, has his arm around her waist while her brother has his arm draped across her shoulders. Toph is there, dressed like a vampire with fake blood running down her chin, with Aang's over arm around her, her face turned just slightly off-center from the camera. For the first time I realize that the girl is blind.

I scroll back further, to the end of summer. There's two pictures of Katara and her boyfriend on the green lawn of U of O. She's wearing a tiny pair of shorts, sandals, and a white blouse, and my eyes comb over the expanse of tanned legs before I focus on the rest of the picture. In the first photo, they're kissing. In the second, they're both looking at the camera. The caption reads, I'm going to miss this cutie! Go Ducks!

I click on the picture and zoom in on his face. It's driving me nuts that I can't place this guy. He's tagged in the photo, so I jump over to his profile, but there's not much there. He's got a gym selfie for a profile picture and his cover photo is the picture of him and Katara from Christmas. Since I'm not his friend, I can only see when he updates his profile and cover photos, which he apparently only does once a year.

I go back to Katara's profile and scroll back through her summer. I expected more posts, but for some reason, there's barely anything. She shares updates from her dad's boat shop and a few pictures of sunsets and landscapes, and a handful of memes.

From June, there is a graduation photo. She's wearing a maroon robe with a silver sash and holding her diploma. Her dad, brother, and the old lady and old man from Thanksgiving are standing with her. Everyone is smiling, but there's a tightness in the sets of their mouths, and their eyes are drawn and tired. I notice that Katara's right arm is in a blue cast, poking out from the sleeve of her graduation robe. I wonder what happened, and I continue to scroll.

When I get to May, I'm confronted with a headstone. The name reads Kya M. Kuruk, beloved wife and mother. Forever in our hearts. 02-04-1983—03-19-2019. There are two hundred reactions and over three hundred comments on the post. Katara has captioned it, Mom's headstone was set today. I miss you more every day.

Suddenly I feel cold as I count the days in my head. That's why Katara won't be able to paint with me on Friday. It's the one-year anniversary of her mother's death.

I swallow hard and set my phone down. I'm thinking about my own mother. About how it felt to stand at her graveside and read her name etched into a marble headstone, feeling empty and broken and like things would never be okay again.

And really, things haven't been okay since.

"Zuko?"

I jerk my head, startled out of my thoughts. "Yeah?"

Uncle frowns. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah." I shake my head. "I just…Katara's mom died. Almost a year ago. I didn't know that."

"Then that's something the two of you have in common." Uncle turns back to the stove. "When did she tell you?"

"She uh...she hasn't, actually. I just saw it on her Facebook."

"I see. Well, she will when she's ready, nephew. You know how it feels, and how difficult it can be to talk about."

I do. I know the burning ache of a dead mother. That emptiness inside you where your mother used to be, to soothe your fears and encourage your dreams. To have questions on the tip of your tongue, but she isn't there to answer them anymore. All of the things you want to tell her, the experiences you want to share, but when you look beside you, all that's left is a ghost.

But I can't help but think that Katara is more fortunate than I am. I can tell from her profile, from this window into her life, that Katara has a loving and supportive family. She has her father and brother, and the elderly woman I think is her grandmother. All I had—all I have—is Uncle.

But now maybe I have Katara too.