...He hears her laughing and grins involuntarily, wondering what the two Flemings are discussing. He was able to understand their conversations earlier, and he can't help but think she's funny. Of course, he's known this for a long time, but he has a hard time... admitting things to himself. She jokes around with Benjy a lot. About movies they've seen or TV shows they've watched. They talk about his friends, about her life...
He wonders... He wonders how often they talk about him. Especially with her son seeming to think that the two of them are -- he takes a deep breath -- romantic. Which they aren't. But he wonders how many times she's had to tell the kid the very same thing he seems to keep telling himself.
Not that he needs to be reminded. He has Trudy to think of, after all. Trudy... God, she was great.
Perfect.
The Flemings come into the living room and join him with the announcement that dinner will be ready in half an hour. Benjy goes off to play video games in his room, firmly stating that he'd like to stay but something called Splinter Cell is waiting for him.
"He just got it yesterday," she tells him as her son runs down the hallway.
"Oh," he replies. He still doesn't know what the hell it is.
They sit across from each other in complete silence for a very long time and he holds still. Her legs are crossed and one foot is bouncing up and down, as though she's... she's trying to keep her circulation going. She looks bored, he thinks as he watches her. Blowing blonde curls from her eyes and rhythmically wiggling her foot.
She looks beautiful.
He shakes his head, focuses on Trudy again. Trudy. Trudy. He mentally repeats it, assuring himself that he hasn't forgotten her. That she's still first and foremost on his mind. Trudy...
"You know," she says casually, trying to make conversation. "I was thinkin' about painting this room blue. What do you think?"
What does he think? ...Blue. He laughs to himself, remembering things he usually pushes to the back of his mind. Trudy hated blue. She said it was a color of depression, tragedy, sorrow... He tells her this and she watches him with a slightly concerned light in her eyes, eyebrows gradually lowering as a blonde ringlet falls into her face again.
"Any time she saw anyone wearing blue, she told me it was a subconscious expression of their inner sadness..." he says, chuckling for Sharona this time. Just so she knows he didn't take the comment seriously. She... she gets moody sometimes.
He has to send out signals for her to pick up.
When his laughter fades she's still giving him that strange look, except now she has a hand readjusting a hair clip so that shorter pieces stay out of her way. She likes things out of her way. He knows this from experience -- if something is in her path, she does all that she can to demolish it.
He wonders if she's ever thought of demolishing him, but shakes the thought away and decides he'd rather not know. He's never thought of... of getting rid of her. Just scooting her to the side a little, so that he can sneak through.
"Adrian," she says, sounding as thoughtful as her expression looks.
He smiles a little, showing her that he's listening.
"Adrian... What do you think of blue?"
...What does he think of blue? That depends. Blue like her eyes? Light, breezy blue for when she's happy or darker -- almost gray -- blue for when she's upset at him? It's amazing, her eyes... they kind of change color depending on her mood. He can't read her mind like he can with other people, although on occasion he has tried and been successful. But when he doesn't have time to try, he reads her eyes.
They're nice. Maybe... Maybe beautiful, even.
But he's not thinking about her eyes, not again. So, blue. Just blue. He's always kind of... kind of liked it. It's a nice color. Pretty.
"I..." he begins, still a bit unsure. "I... Blue is good."
Her eyebrows shoot up, eyes widen slightly. She's intrigued.
"You think so?"
Does he think so?
"Um... Yeah. But only if it's light blue."
She says she was thinking the same thing, and they go back to their silence. She's Looking at him now -- the way she does when she thinks he isn't paying attention. All the time she's spent with him and she still doesn't get that he's always paying attention.
Always.
The timer in the kitchen goes off ten minutes later and Benjy sprints into the kitchen, sitting himself across from his mother. The only chair left is right next to her and he takes it, careful not to disturb any boundaries. His or hers.
She takes him home twenty minutes after they finish their enchiladas, because that way it will be exactly eight o'clock when he walks through the door. He's good at estimation and works everything into a precisely executed system. They pull out of her driveway, into the road, down several streets. His fingernails are digging into his knees and she doesn't know why. She's driving a lot better now -- he must just be apprehensive, she decides.
He always seems to be apprehensive.
She hits the breaks and stops in front of his house. He releases his legs, she unbuckles his seat belt, he smiles.
"Thanks," he says, "For dinner and... and for the ride."
"You're welcome," she says, thinking of her son's promise to do the dishes for a week.
He nods, smiles again, opens the car door and carefully edges himself out. She sighs to herself, wondering what would have happened if she'd never found him. Probably nothing. He'd end up like his brother, horrified to leave the house and mourning forever.
Then again, he was still mourning. Or obsessing, which was equally unhealthy if continued for a very long time.
"Hey, Adrian," she shouts out the window.
He turns around, wondering.
"You want to help me pick out the paint for my living room?"
She can see him smiling, even in the dark.
"Uh... Sure." He straightens his posture a little, shaking his shoulders like he's shrugging off dirt. "See... See you tomorrow?"
"Ten o'clock, sharp," she replies happily.
"Don't be late," they say -- he's serious and she's impatient.
She laughs. He walks towards his streak-free front door.
On her way home, she can't help but think that he's a sweet guy. An adorable guy. She can't help but feel bad that he's so overwhelmed with Trudy.
She can't help but wish he wasn't.