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The air was sweet with the scent of flowers; it made John's nose itch. He preferred the clean scent of a warm wind to being overhung with pollen, but he hadn't chosen the spot, she had.
She was talking, but John wasn't quite sure what she was saying and she hadn't noticed he wasn't listening. She was just so pretty, so while she went on John was busy watching her, not listening to the words she was saying about her mother, or some friend, or the latest gossip. John didn't care about those things, but he did care that she was beautiful. Her autumn hair in curls, the suggestive curve of her eye and the way her lips parted so discreetly when she spoke, the arch of her back as she leaned against the hill, supported by her arms. It was enough just to admire her.
But he never thought he would get to do so from this close. He wasn't unpopular, but a girl like Anna always seemed out of his reach. He didn't play any sports or get good grades and the only club he was in was drama, and it wasn't like he stood out there, so he was surprised when he was approached by the most beautiful girl in his class.
“You design sets for the drama club, right?” she had asked.
He had been so nervous then. There were so many things he wanted to say and they were all wrong. But somehow he had just answered the question. “Well me and Kiki and Ed, yeah.”
“Good. I need your help then.”
It turned out she was organizing a play for her church's picnic. John wasn't very religious, but he also wasn't about to turn a pretty girl down. After that they had met a couple times, discussed logistics and budget and she gave a brief rundown of all the sets she'd be needing. Now John was almost ready to begin, so he was grateful when Anna called him. He wanted to do as best he could on these sets, and the sooner he started the better. But he wasn't prepared for something like this. This was basically just a date, wasn't it? So why had she asked him?
“So I keep asking her, 'Why won't you dye your hair then?' But she says she doesn't know. I think her parents won't let her and she's just embarrassed,” Anna was saying. Then she stopped and turned to John, looking at him softly with her head tilted. He could feel his cheeks get hot. “I'm sorry, this is boring for you, huh? Why don't you tell me about yourself.” She sat up, leaning forward on her knees, and shifted her body to look at him.
John immediately wished she hadn't asked him that. What could he say that would impress a girl like her? “I don't think here's much to tell,” he said as cheerfully as possible, “I like to watch a lot of movies. Sometimes I think I might even like to be a director someday, but I don't think that will happen.” He laughed nervously but Anna just kept her thin smile.
“What kind of movies do you like to watch?”
“All kinds really. I like it best when the movie stops feeling like a movie. When you can forget everything for a while and go live somewhere else. I've been watching a lot of old movies lately and I think Hitchcock was a real master of that. You just get sucked right into his stories, it's amazing.” When he finished John realized he'd said more than he'd intended, but Anna's expression hadn't changed.
“My dad loves old films, “ she said, “he's got a huge collection and I've probably seen all of them.” She laughed, as if to make light of herself. “If you like, maybe you can come over sometime and we can watch one.”
“That would be really cool.” John was way too embarrassed to admit it, but mostly he had gotten movies by downloading them from the internet. “I bet your dad has some great recommendations too.”
“My dad's a bit of a dork. He'd probably suggest something like Cinderfella.”
“Yeah, I don't think I'd like to watch that, but I do like comedies.”
“Good. It'll be fun then. I'll let you know when will be best.” She scooted closer to him as she spoke, which made him a little uncomfortable. He didn't know what to do. She wanted him to do something but he couldn't figure out what that was, and in the back of his mind was always how he didn't even understand how this was happening. “So have you um, decided on what sets you need.”
Anna's mouth stretched in indecision and she turned back toward the soccer game. John sighed in relief. “For the most part I have, but there are still a few things I haven't decided on.” She stared off into the distance apparently lost in thought, but when she turned back to John she was smiling brightly and stood up, stretching her hand out to him. “Do you wanna go for a walk? This park has a nice trail.”
The trail was nice. The main part of it was gravel and lined with stone bricks and was often followed by a brook that ran down from the hills in the west. Many dirty paths branched off it, heading down towards the river or back into the hills, and even a couple that provided a great view of the city. And the whole thing was flanked by trees, densely packed spruces as thin as their spines, bushy buckeyes covered with the red fronds of spring, or tall oaks with their low branches hanging out into the path, and the ground beneath them was speckled by the pinholes of light that broke through the sylvan latticework above. It shifted always with the breeze and was accompanied by a rustle that mixed with the slippery sounds of the brook beside them and the call of birds in the distance. They walked in silence for some time, each admiring it separately.
“It's just not right, “ Anna said, finally breaking the silence.
“What isn't?”
“This scene. I can't decide on where I should set it or if I should even keep it.”
“In your play?”
She stopped and nodded. Her hands were behind her back and she tilted back and forth on her heels as she spoke. “In my play, yeah. I don't know why I let them talk me into this. They said it would be fun. And it is, but. But there's just so much stress.” She had ceased rocking now and was biting her lower lip. John took a step towards her and she spun away to the trees. “I haven't heard from Ari, our costume designer, since I first approached him, the festival has been moved forward two weeks to accommodate Reverend Callum from Seven Hills, my friends at school aren't speaking to be because they think I'm ignoring them, and the actors are on my back because I haven't finished the script yet. I'm starting to think this is all too much.” Then she was silent for a long time and John didn't know what to say, so they stood there like that until she spoke again. “I'm sorry, you don't want to hear all this.”
John shook his head. “No it's fine.” But he didn't know what to say and there was silence again, every moment of it more awkward than the last. He had to say something. “Hey, did you want me to try to help with your script? I doubt I'll have any good ideas but I'll do my best.”
Anna turned back around, “Would you?”
“Yeah. And I have a friend who would make some excellent costumes, although they might end up a little spooky.”
“There's only a month and a half left, I couldn't ask that of someone I don't know.”
“Don't worry. She'll do it as a favor to me, I'm sure it won't be a problem.”
“Well, if you really think it will be ok. Ari hasn't even show me sketches for everything.”
“Yeah, so why don't you come on and tell me what kind of problems you're having with your story,” he said and he motioned for them to start walking again.
She started by asking if he had heard of the play Love's Labors' Lost. He admitted he hadn't and so she explained her play was basically just that. Her play concerned three men who each swear off a virtue foolishly labeling it a vice so they can focus more intently on their studies. Each man swears off a different thing to show how not having that virtue in his life corrupts his studies. God, seeing that these men will be very powerful one day sends three women personifying the virtues to soothe these mens' souls. However, the men just complain to the duke, who is evil, and he sentences the women to be executed.
They were walking to the main path as they spoke and John listened intently, even thought he wasn't quite sure he followed. However, after the point where the women were sentenced to die Anna paused and asked John if he understood everything. He said he did, but afterwards he kind of zoned out and she remained demurely silent as they walked, letting him think. He wasn't, and someway down the hill he saw a crooked and tumorous ash a short way off the path. He motioned with his head and said “Hey let's go check it out,” and ran off towards it. The tree was twisted on itself and its trunk drooped down to the ground propped up by a bulbous branch. Thinner branches, almost devoid of leaves, streamed off the sides of it in a veil, keeping John back from the trunk, but from where he was he could see faces in the gnarled and distended wood. “It's ugly,” she said; “It's awesome,” he said.
“I think I understand your story,” John said, his eyes not leaving the tree, “but what kind of virtues could you make look bad?”
“Well, they don't look bad, the men just think they do. For example, one guy is kind and his kindness is always getting abused and taking away from his time to study. So since he thinks study is the most important thing in the world he starts to think kindness is bad and he starts to find other arguments against it.”
“That's pretty crazy.”
“Mhm,” she said as she ran her hand down one of the curtain's spindly branches. “So my problem is the night before the execution the main character hallucinates the lady sent to him and begins to doubt himself, so that the next day at the execution when an angel comes and saves the women he recants. But I don't know how to write something like that.”
“Well, who is the guy? What's he study? What's his virtue?”
“He's a mathematician and his virtue is creativity.”
John could feel his brow furrow. He didn't know anything about math or mathematicians. Rose would know what to do, but he didn't. He wasn't some genius, just a boy trying to impress a pretty girl. “So what's the woman sent to him like?”
“She's wild, she's fickle, but she's passionate.”
John sighed, that wasn't very helpful, and he turned his attention back to the tree.
The ash seemed to bubble out of the ground at its roots, like a fountain of wood, mottled and scarred by the anger of the earth that sent it. It howled silently and John wondered for how long it had. Below the tree, further down the hill, was a large rock where you could see the roots stretch across ineffectually like fat fingers covered in boils. To John the tree seemed entirely unnatural.-
“What places were you thinking about setting it?”
“I haven't been able to come up with anything I like.”
“Well, why's it matter so much where it's set, then?”
That seemed to be a good question because Anna sat down beneath the tree and wrapped her arms around her knees. Right down into the dirt in her simple seafoam dress. Her head hung down and her eyes were clearly unfocused. John circled around her, careful not to slip on the uneven ground. If she noticed him she gave no sign of it. “Everything in the play is symbolic, it wouldn't make sense for this not to be.” She said at last without moving her head.
“I think in that case you could maybe make it whatever you want and people would see what they expect.”
She looked up at him sharply, “I couldn't do that. I'd know, and what would I say when people ask?”
John wanted to say lie, but he didn't think she would go for that, and really, he didn't like the idea of advising someone to lie anyway, so what he said was: “Tell them the truth. It's not Broadway, I think most people will probably be impressed you managed to put a play on yourself.”
She nodded as if she saw the sense in that, but still seemed doubtful. “I guess.” After a few moments she stood and brushed the dirt from her dress. “We should probably be heading back. I have dance lessons at five.”
***
That night John lay on his bed poring over that day's events. Everywhere he looked he saw mistakes and he couldn't help but wonder what they added up to. He wasn't even sure Anna had noticed them, or even cared to. Not only did she seem troubled but in truth why should a girl such as her be interested in him? He sighed and reminded himself that he had been deluded to think otherwise. Anything he might have done wrong didn't matter in the face of that. But though he hoped it would the thought did not comfort him. Maybe because some part of him still believed that if he did everything right he could change it.
At least I didn't do anything really stupid, he thought as he sat up. On his computer the chat window of his Pesterchum client was flashing. It was Rose. He had messaged her earlier to ask about the costumes but she wasn't on. John crawled across his bed, reached over the footboard to his desk, turned the monitor, and slid the keyboard towards him. She'd only replied a few minutes ago. “Sorry,” she said, “I was out.”
It was awkward to type like that but for some reason it still seemed more convenient. “Sounds like you're having fun with your new car.”
“It's some consolation, yes. I think I'd go crazy without it.”
“Hey don't complain. Your mom's cool to even buy you a car.”
“You don't know how hard it was to convince her. She never would have relented had I been accepted by a college.”
“My dad makes put up collateral if I want to borrow the car. Usually my immortal soul.”
“Very funny, John,” she said, but he knew she thought it was.
“So have you used this car to make any friends?”
“I've purchased some good books, if that's what you mean.”
John fell to the ground in a theatrical gesture no one could see. He felt the statement warranted it, even if there was no one around to know of its existence. However, he fell face first into a Lego boat Jade had sent him that he had been building. It tilted over, the satellite piece nearly snapped off into his eye and as his head hit the ground the whole boat slid across the wooden floor to the opposite wall. When he got back up to the keyboard Rose was already asking where he was.
“Sorry,” he said, “I was busy crashing.”
“Of course,” she replied as if that required no further explication.
“Rose, books are not friends.”
“Don't say that, John. Books are wonderful friends. For example, they never criticize my life choices.”
“I thought you said you were lonely.”
“Oh that's just code for my mother's driving me insane.”
John mused that everything she said was code for that. “Well I think you'll end up taking my advice anyway, maybe without even realizing it.”
“Well see. Anyway, you said you had a favor to ask me?”
“Oh yeah, that's right, I had completely forgotten. A friend of mine is putting on a play but her costume designer is avoiding her now. I was hoping you might be able to help out since you have all that free time.”
“All that free time is spent volunteering places to look good on my college applications or looking for work, but I will see what I can do. How many costumes do you need?”
“Eight or nine I think. The problem is the play is in less than six weeks.”
“You want me to make nine costumes in a month and a half?” There was a long pause before her next response and John was glad he couldn't see her face or hear her tone of voice. “Why don't you just get the guy who designs costumes for your club to do it?”
“I would, but he's visiting family in India right now. Besides, I kinda want to impress this girl.” John immediately regretted admitting that. It would actually make it less likely for Rose to do him this favor, but that was what happened when you said the things in your head without thought or hesitation.
“Oh I see. You want me to help you win this girl. Frankly I'm not sure I approve of you rushing into a relationship at your tender and impressionable age. Tell me, what is this girl like? What are her prospects? Does she at least come from a good family?”
“Blah blah blah,” he said, making talking motions at the screen with his hand. Far be it for Rose to pass up the opportunity to tease him. “She's nice and she's pretty and I haven't really put more thought into it than that.”
“It disappoints me that you aren't taking this seriously. Relationships are a grave matter. Your life becomes just as much about the other person as it is about yourself. I'm not sure you're ready for such a burden.”
John held down the 'A' key for a good ten seconds before he pressed enter.
“I'm only trying to help you.”
“Well then help me by agreeing to at least try to make the costumes.”
“I will try, but I can't promise anything. And if I have to ask my mother for help I will require serious compensation. Now, tell me as much about the play as you know.”
***
The next morning John's father was already awake when John came downstairs and was putting into a cup in the living room. “Good morning, son,” he said without turning away from his shot.
“Morning Dad,” John said passing through to the kitchen without pause. As he fixed his breakfast he heard the plink of the ball rolling in. The sun came in bright into the kitchen and saturated everything with color and John couldn't help but be optimistic about the day.
John was already sitting with his cereal at the table when his dad came in. There weren't too many times he could remember where his father wasn't wearing a suit, and today wasn't one of them, even though it seemed the perfect Saturday for lounging around the house. After a short time his dad sat down across from him with a glass of juice and a couple piles of toast. “So, you got any plans for today, son?”
John caught his meaning. As a child he and his father often used to go out on weekends. To the zoo, to the lake, to an amusement park. John always loved it, but now he was getting a little old to spend all his time with his dad. Not that he always refused, just that, yes, he did in fact have plans. He'd oblige the old man next weekend and perhaps he wouldn't be too disappointed. “Yeah. I promised a friend to help them with a play and I really gotta get started on the sets. Actually I was hoping to borrow the car so I can run to the hardware store.”
“Oh,” his father said and nodded his head blankly. John could tell he was disappointed and felt a twinge of guilt. There was nothing he could do, he was telling the truth. Briefly John reflected that his father needed to start dating again and then he wouldn't be so lonely. John made a mental note to bring it up with him later. “Sure, I suppose you could use the car then. It's good to see you're filling your summer with projects. Just be careful with the interior.”
“I will, Dad, thanks.”
After getting what he needed at the hardware store John had one more stop to make. Although he was “in charge” of the set design for the drama club it wasn't something he could do alone, and he didn't think he'd have any more luck by himself with this. Good thing then that he knew exactly where to find help. The people he had in mind might balk at doing it, but he was confident they would in the end.
The comic store was exactly as he'd expected when he walked in. John couldn't remember when the last time he had been here was, but he didn't think anything had changed. All the comics were in milkcrates and cardboard boxes which were stacked, strewn, and hidden about in the mostly loosely chronological arrangement John could imagine. There wasn't any more organization than that, Marvel, DC, Image, and all the other publishers were thrown together with Japanese, Korean, French, and even Indian comics in a startling and daunting disarray. It was a wonder they ever sold anything and a miracle anytime anyone found anything they were looking for.
Of course they didn't really sell comics and hardly made any money off them. Which is why it didn't matter how they were organized. Besides, Tom always swore he could find any comic they had and what from what John had seen that was true, even if it did sometimes take a while. But the real source of profit, what really kept the store afloat, was the panoply of trading cards and figurines hanging behind the counter and dominating the display case. There was a group of younger kids checking out the precisely constructed and painted figurines now. The space marines, the gilded knights, the horrorbeasts. They were impressive in their own way, but they were also well out of the price range of children.
Other than the children and the owner the only other people in the store were a handful of teenagers sitting around one of the foldout tables watching a two people play some war game or another. Exactly the people John was looking for.
“Hey guys,” he said walking over.
Kiki was the first to turn, she had long slick black hair and wore a pair of remarkably square glasses, but she was surprisingly gregarious for that. “Oh, John,” she said, “What are you doing here?”
Ed, who was lanky and had a broad face like a tin can hadn't looked up from his game, still trying to decide his next move, but when he heard John's name he lifted his eyes and seemed to immediately forget what had previously kept him so occupied. “John!” he said, almost jumping from his seat. “I knew we'd get you back here.” Before John knew it Ed was beside him with his hand resting on John's shoulder, his arm bent low and awkward because of its length. “So what're you here for? It's a board game isn't it? I knew you'd finally listen to me. I told you man, chicks love Settlers of Catan.”
Kiki was standing now and was adjusting the oversized green sweatshirt that was hanging from her shoulders. “He's not here to buy anything, Ed,” she said, “Stop getting your hopes up, it's depressing.”
“Why are you always like that?” Ed asked giving her a light shove. “you don't know why he's here. He hasn't said anything yet.”
John laughed nervously. He hated disappointing Ed when he seemed so excited, but he hated lying more. “She's right. I'm only here to ask you guys a favor.”
Ed seemed despondent after that but Kiki said “Don't you know it's rude to only come see people when you want something?”
“I know I know, but I need some help. I promised Anna Melk that I'd do the sets for this play she's putting on, but I can't build them alone. I was hoping you guys would help me.”
“Anna Melk?” Ed asked, completely forgetting his disappointment, “Anna Melk from Ms Altmann's biology class. She knows you exist?”
“Apparently. You guys understand why I need your help, right?”
“Oh worry not, my friend, “Ed said magnanimously, “We'll make sure the sets are perfect—“
“I never agreed to help anybody.”
“—and Anna will be unfathomably grateful when her play's a success. Just remember to invite us to your wedding.”
“Stop getting so ahead of yourself,” Kiki said, but it didn't seem like anyone was paying attention to he anymore.
“Excellent! You guys are true friends. I've got a bunch of hardware supplies in the car, but I can come by and pick you guys up after I drop it off if you need me to.”
“Nonsense, nonsense.” Ed was pushing John to the door now for some reason, completely oblivious to the coupler where were now standing near the counter talking to the owner. John tried to get Ed's attention but failed to and the guy had to jump out of the way while the woman glared at him. “Kiki and I will pick up some things that you're sure to be needing and then we'll be right over. By the way, when's the play being put on?”
“In about a month and a half,” John said and watched Ed's veneer of confidence slip away.
John was pretty sure that they did, in fact, need a ride, but that's the way Ed was, you couldn't tell him anything. Still, as John pulled into his driveway he wondered if he shouldn't have insisted, or maybe go back. They'd probably have to walk and John hated the idea of wasting time because of one of Ed's dumb notions. By the time he stepped inside he had decided that he didn't care what Ed said, he was going back. However, these plans were quickly forgotten when John noticed Anna was sitting on his couch.
“John,” she said, standing up.
“Anna, what are you doing here. Did you want to help me work on the sets?”
Anna winced and looked down to the floor, her face blanketed with bitter recall and resignation. “No,” was all she said.
Clearly something was wrong. “What's the matter? Don't tell me you found somebody else to do it.”
“No, I didn't find anyone else. I...” she stopped and looked up at him, there was pain and hesitation in here eyes but John didn't know how to read it. Then, abruptly, she said, “There isn't going to be a play.”
“What? Why?”
She threw her hands up.” I can't do it. I don't know why I thought I could. It's too much. For weeks I haven't had the opportunity to think about anything else. I don't sleep, I don't eat, I just worry and worry and worry.” She was pacing around the room now, talking as if she didn't even notice John was there, not even looking at him. “Then I'd tweak and adjust and remove but the problems just kept piling up without any ever really being solved, and the solutions I try just end up making things worse. I thought maybe if I had someone to help me, if I had you to help me, it would be ok, but it isn't. You'd have to do everything else because I can't. I just can't.” She was breathing heavy now and she stopped and turned to John, her wide eyes pleading him for answers and the quivering of her lip betraying her uncertainty. But John wasn't any more certain than sher was. Some part of him knew she wanted him to say something to keep her going, but what could he say in the face of all that?
“I'll help you as much as you need, Anna, but you can't quit now, not after all the work you've done?”
She seemed to think that was funny. “Work for what though? A stupid play that no one will see and even less will care about. It's not worth it, John. It's just not worth it.”
“I think it is.”
Her brow furrowed and just as suddenly as she had appeared to him she was yelling. “Well you aren't the one who has to deal with constant criticisms of your script or an endless series of increasingly absurd restrictions. You don't have to deal with the stage that's falling apart or the costumes that don't exist. You don't have to deal with anything and you don't know anything.” And then she shoved past him out the door.
John fell down onto the couch and didn't even answer when his father came in to check on him. He just sat there in silence and confusion for what seemed like hours. Until he heard a knock at the door, and then he went outside to build the sets with Kiki and Ed, never saying a word to them about what just happened.