My dad just left on deployment, the last one he committed to before telling us he was leaving the service for good. There were happy tears, our family and Raiden’s sitting around the table enjoying Okonomiyakithat Raiden’s mom had made along with cans of soda my mom picked up from the store. Our family dinner nights were a hodgepodge of random food my mom had recipes for and japanese dishes prepared by Raiden’s family. That night was amazing, celebrating the news of having my dad home for good. We ate too much food, and the sugar rush that me and Raiden were on was enough to power a small village. Our parents talked into the late evening while Raiden tried to teach me the new ballet moves he was learning in his sophomore ballet class.
But tonight is different. Tonight’s dinner doesn’t have my dad at the head of the table, talking to Rodney about a sports play he saw on the TV at work. No boisterous laugh. No one giving me and Raiden a hard time about the movies we pick for movie night or staying up too late to playThe Sims.The mood isdejected as we pick at our slices of pizza that mom picked up from our favorite pizza place on the way home. Even Ema and Rodney are having a hard time with it.
They weren’t there when we dropped my dad off, though. I’m sure they wish they could have been, to see their friend off and wish him luck and love. Raiden was there and he was the only thing that held me up while I felt like I was crumpling, watching my dad walk through the security line with his duffle slung over his shoulder and a pair of sunglasses on his head. His uniform was tucked nice and neat into his bag, he told us he was going to change before he got on the plane. The shirt he wore was the one me and Raiden made with tie-dye and way too many paint markers. It was sloppy and messy, but I could see the tears in my dad’s eyes as he looked at it. And as he slipped it over his head before we drove him to the airport.
The whole ride home was silent, no one speaking a word or a sound beside me trying to keep my sniffles muffled by tucking my head into the Raiden’s stomach as he sat beside me, stroking his bony fingers through my hair.
“Are you ready for tomorrow night’s game, Jer?” Raiden’s dad asks, sitting his slice of pizza down and taking a large swig of his beer. The game in question is the first game of the season, my second year playing football. This year, I’ve been upgraded to the starting line. It’s been nerve racking, the thought of players and fans alike to be relying on me to execute plays to help ensure we have a win.
“Duh, he’s ready dad. He’s going to kick their asses tomorrow night, and I’ll be right there on the sidelines cheering him on.” Rodney looks like he wants to critique his son on his use of foul language, but decides against it.
“Exactly.” Ema lifts her glass up in a cheers motion and we lift our glasses up as well, one cup noticeably missing.
My mom and Raiden’s parents go to the backyard, taking the case of beer that Rodney brought and they shut the doorbehind them on their way out. Raiden looks at me, his eyebrows cocked, and I know that whatever he’s about to ask, I’m going to say yes to. I’m always going to say yes to him.
“Do you want to bake cookies?”
Thirty minutes, fourteen dirty dishes, and one burn mark currently covered with a bandaid later, the cookies are finally done. The fresh smell of vanilla and chocolate makes my mouth water. Raiden runs a few out to our parents as I plate the rest and take them up to my room, sitting them on the table across from my bed where we usually do homework together.
“I never thought they would stop talking,” Raiden says as he walks in and flops backwards onto my bed. He rolls his head over my comforter to look at me head on. His brown eyes twinkle in the dim light streaming from the sidewalk light into my room.
“You love talking.” I say nonchalantly, picking up a cookie and eating it all in one bite. It’s still hot, so it burns the roof of my mouth and my tongue. Add that onto the list of injuries sustained tonight all to bake a sweet treat for Raiden.
He tosses a pillow at me, missing me by a mile. “I do not!” And then he bursts into a fit of laughter. “Okay, maybe I do. I don’t understand how you don’t like talking!” He exclaims, sitting up straight on the bed and looking down at me from his slightly higher position. I shrug my shoulders, eating another cookie and extending the plate to him. He leans over and snatches one from the plate.
“I just don’t feel the need. If I don’t have anything to say, why would I say anything at all?” He looks inquisitive for a minute, twitching his eyebrows and taking a small bite of the cookie in his hand.
“You don’t want to know about other people?” He asks, and it’s not rude like it would be if someone else was asking me because this is Raiden. He genuinely wants to know.
“It’s not that I don’twantto know people, but I’m not goingto get to know someone from small conversations. I prefer..” I pause, taking a minute to try and figure out how to word what it is I’m really looking for. “Meaning, I guess. I want my words to have a meaning, to matter. I don’t want to offer them to someone who doesn’t want to actually get to know me.”
Raiden’s voice is small when he says, “but you talked to me.”
“You’re different.” I offer simply, not having a better explanation than that. Because he is different, he was a storm that blew into my life. But instead of causing destruction, he brought the sunshine and the rainbow afterwards and stayed with me to enjoy it.
“Good or bad different?”
“Definitely bad.” I say and he leaps off the bed and comes over to wrap his arm around my neck, digging his elbow into my collarbone as he attempts to choke me out.
“Take it back,” he attempts to tighten his grip but his toned muscles have nothing on the bulk I’ve gained since we first met.
“Never.”
He keeps trying and I finally pull him off me, and tuck him beside me in the rolling chair I’m sitting in. We’re wedged in too tight, the press of his thigh against mine letting his warmth sink into me.
“You’re my best friend.” Raiden says, pulling the plate of cookies closer to him and offering me one before he takes one for himself.
“And you’re mine.”
The next night, we win our football game. 41-7. Raiden is right there on the sideline, exactly like he said he would be, cheering me on, his voice ringing in my ears above the thundering of my pulse and the cheer of the crowds.
After we shake the opposing team’s hands, we start walking back to the locker rooms. The rest of the boys on the team are slapping each other on the backs and yelling loudly about what they’re doing tonight after the game.
Our captain, Josh, comes up to me. Slapping me on the side of the helmet and getting my attention. I pull it off, shaking the sweat off my forehead and wiping the back of my arm against my face to get off the rest.
“What are you doing tonight?” He asks, his wide smile showing off his slightly gapped front teeth.
“I dunno. I don’t really do anything.” Hanging out with Raiden is what wants to come out of my mouth, but I would never hear the end of it. Last year, it took a full semester before I convinced the guys in my grade that he wasnotmy boyfriend, just my best friend. I’d never be able to live it down if they knew I was going to hang out with him and miss out on whatever party they’re talking about throwing at the quarterback’s house tonight.
