Meaningful Dialogue
by
Owlcroft
Lydia was reading a book for her junior year literature class while glancing occasionally at Beetlejuice, who was measuring out some highly volatile chemicals. She finished up a chapter and asked, "Almost done?"
"Just about," he replied. "Sorry it's taking so long, babes."
"No problem. I have to read another three chapters before Friday anyway." After another few minutes, she closed the book on her finger. "I wish I inspired this kind of devotion," she said and sighed, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
After a pause for thought, he muttered, "You will. Person like you? 'Course you will. Who knows," he shrugged, "maybe you already do. You just don't know it."
"Yes, but how will I be able to tell? It's not like someone can save me from a burning building, or a sinking ship or something."
"I could," he muttered but so quietly that she didn't hear. What she could do was read his lips and she did, with a tiny smile.
"Wouldn't you like someone devoted to you, too?" She gazed at him with hope in her eyes. "Someone who always puts you first, who thinks about you in a special way, someone who'd do anything for you?" She saw him look uncomfortable and uncertain how to answer that and backed off. Instead of saying how romantic she thought that was, she said, "Of course, friends do that, don't they? I mean, I know you'd do anything for me and I hope you know I'd do anything for you, right?"
"Yeah," he muttered, still busy measuring out hydrochloric acid drop by drop.
Lydia smiled at him affectionately and went back to her book, and a few minutes later, said, "Beej, what does 'keep your pecker up' mean?"
His eyes popped open in astonishment and he nearly dropped the flask of acid. "Lyds!" he exclaimed, turning a dusky red. "You shouldn't . . . you should not ask me something like that!"
"Why not?" She stared at him, surprised by his reaction.
"Because . . . because it's crude . . . and vulgar . . . and you just shouldn't! What made you ask a thing like that anyway?!" He was more than a little flustered.
She looked even more puzzled, then held out her book to him. "It's in here; it's a British novel from the 1940s. It can't be anything too crude or it wouldn't be in this book. What in the world does it mean to you?" She watched him take the book from her without catching her eye. "None of the characters even bat an eye at it."
He did glance at her then, very briefly, trying to hide his embarrassment, and said "You shouldn't say words like that. You shouldn't know words like that." He found the line in the book and shook his head in confusion. "I didn't think they could print language like that back then. And it's said to a lady, which doesn't make sense."
"Well, but what did you think it meant? And what does it mean there, in the book?"
"The book, hmm." He read the lines immediately before the one in question, then said, "I guess it means something like keep your chin up. But that word – I don't know. Maybe in British it means . . . nose? So keep your nose up?"
She chuckled at that. "It would make some kind of sense then. But, BJ, what did you think it meant? Why were you so upset about it?"
He turned his head away. "It's just that it's a word that some people use for . . . a part of the anatomy." When she waited for more, he muttered, "A male anatomy, okay?"
"Oh," she said blankly; then, "o-oh," as enlightenment dawned. "That's why you were so upset about it. But even if I don't know words like that, it doesn't hurt for me to read them."
Beetlejuice wriggled uncomfortably. "Don't know about that." He was still in mutter mode.
"You don't use words like that. I'm not sure if you ever did, but certainly not around me."
"Yeah, but you didn't like it even when I said some fairly mild stuff so . . . I quit. Tried to, anyway, at least around you." He shuffled his feet and added, "And it didn't feel right, either. You know. I mean, it made me feel . . . wrong."
"That's so sweet of you." She reached over and patted his forearm as he tried not to grimace at that word. "You are always so considerate of me."
He shrugged and held the book out for her to take back. "Think about you all the time. Makes sense I'd think about stuff like that. And you were a kid, you know." He considered for a moment, half-closing his eyes. "You sort of made allowances for me, too. I mean, you got right away about me and water and you never tried to change me or anything."
Lydia pondered for a few moments, then said, "I think it was the way we both accepted each other that really started our friendship, don't you? Yes, you and water but then you didn't care about my . . . differences, the things that made it so hard for me to find any friends."
"Didn't see any. All I saw was a kid who needed a friend and laughed at my jokes." He smiled a little. "How could I want to change anything about a person like that?"
"That exactly how I feel." She smiled back at him. "Sorry about the . . . the confusion here." She gestured with the book.
He gestured toward the book. "The things they let kids read today. They ought to be more careful about that!"
"First of all, I'm not still a kid, Beej." She gazed at him meaningfully, waiting until he nodded in agreement before continuing. "And second, we got three books to choose from and I picked this one because I thought I'd like it more. But it's awfully nice of you, to be protective of me, I mean."
Beetlejuice snorted and folded his arms. "I don't have to put up with this stuff. First it's . . ." he scowled ferociously, "sweet and now it's that word. Lyds, don't you have any regard at all for my feelings?"
She laughed, as he'd hoped. And she hoped he would soon realize that she was as devoted to him as he was to her.