“I see.” A sip of coffee. “What do his parents do?”
“They own a lighting and fan shop.”
Mum pauses. “Like the one you worked at?”
“Yes.” I hurry to change the topic, so Mum doesn’t stew on that for too long. “Aaron’s really nice. We sit next to each other in maths.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Actually… we were thinking of studying together. Today. At his house.”
“Oh?”
“And since we’ll be studying late, he offered for me to stay at his house. He can drive me to school tomorrow. And he has a blow-up mattress that I can sleep on.”
Mum raises both brows. “Is that so?” she says, which roughly translates to,you aren’t slick. “I don’t know. It is a school night.”
I stamp down a burst of impatience. “I’m eighteen years old,” I say as calmly as I can. “I’m responsible enough to go to sleep at a reasonable time.”
Mum looks at me, and I maintain a neutral expression, even as I’m chantingplease, please, pleasein my head. Maybe it shines through my face, or maybe Mum’s in a good mood today, or maybe her weird, guilty/strangely nice mood from yesterday is still going on because she relents. “Fine. But only if Aaron’s parents are okay with it.”
She actually agreed? This feels like a historical moment. “Thanks, Mum,” I say, giving her a huge smile. She blinks before returning the smile, hesitant and a little stiff.
I rush into my room and email Aaron.
My Mum said yes. Is it okay with your parents?
A minute later, he emails back.
Really??! Yes, my parents are fine with it. I have work this afternoon, but I can pick you up after my shift at 5ish?
I write back.
Yes, that’s perfect, see you then.
Even though 5:00 is hours away, I start packing my things. I’ll need my school uniform and pyjamas…my stomach swoops when I remember Aaron sleeps in nothing but his underwear. I think about the old clothes I usually wear to bed. Maybe I can bring something more sexy…
But what if his parents see me in my pyjamas? I end up packing my usual pyjamas of a loose shirt and shorts.
I also need to pack toiletries, and I’m also going to have to shower to prepare for us getting…carried away. Should I shower here or there?
I’m so caught up in getting ready it takes me a while to notice the envelope left on my desk. I stop short.
It’s a gift, Aaron had said.
I carefully pick it up and open it, unexpectedly a little nervous. What could it be?
A glossy sheet of paper slides out. The first thing I notice is the burst of colour. I pick it up and hold it properly.
It’s an illustration. A boy with dark brown hair sits by the window in a sand-coloured classroom, the sky behind him vivid and blue with soft fluffs of clouds and loose ink black strokes to represent birds. The boy rests his head on a palm while writing something in a notebook. He’s looking down, so his face isn’t clear, but the sunlight behind him casts highlights on his nose and outlines his hair in amber.
The illustration is clear and realistic, but when I look up close, I see that the artwork’s actually made up of rough, almost messy shapes. A dash of grey for the shadows of the ear, a few loose lines to create strands of hair, and a slash of pink for the lower lip. He’s added colours I’d never have thought to include if I were to draw the same thing. A blur of green-blue on the wrist for veins, purple in the shadow, a dot of unexpected lime green in the hazel eye.
I can’t stop staring. I asked Aaron to share his art with me, but he never did, so I thought he never would. But here it is. A picture of me.
21
Aaron: Sleepover
