he asked.
Baking is science, I scribbled on the board.
“Huh. Okay, I will tuck that lesson away. So, yeah, Port Clyde. It’s really small and mostly known for its lobster. There’s also an artist residency there, so we get some creative types coming through town. That’s why I thought you might have heard of it. You were drawing the other day, so I didn’t know if that was something you were into or what.”
I made a so-so gesture with my hand. Even with the whiteboard, it would be hard to explain that I really liked drawing because of my sort-of sister and that I wished I was half as good at seeing the world as she was.
“My parents are there, dying for me to come home. I’m an only child, so they’re kind of lonely without me around. My mom calls me literally, like, every day. I told her she should get a puppy, but she said I was better than a dog, which is good, I guess. Am I talking too much?”
He paused, staring into my eyes, genuine worry coloring his face.
I shook my head. No, I thought, I’d listen to you talk about nearly anything. You make phone calls sound like an adventure.
“Okay. She’s also worried because I’m still undeclared. I don’t think that’s a huge deal. Not yet anyway. Do you?”
I snapped my first two fingers and thumb together quickly, the ASL sign for no. Realizing he might not understand, I shook my head as well.
“Cool. What are you studying? Is it art?”
I didn’t have another answer, so I nodded.
“You’ve got an artist vibe,” he said knowingly.
I looked down at myself, then back up at Akinli, questioning him with my eyes.
“No, really. I’m not sure what it is, but you look like you’ve made and broken a lot of things and then made them all over again. Which makes no sense, I’m sure. But trust me, it’s there.”
I started whisking the batter. I was glad he didn’t know how much I’d actually broken in my time—ships that cost millions of dollars, lives no one could put a price on—but I liked the idea that maybe, somewhere deep inside me, I was also capable of fixing things.
I passed the bowl to him, really hoping he’d participate.
“Oh, my gosh. Okay.” He took the whisk in his hand. “I got this. Okay …”
He started whisking.
As he worked, I added in a few drops of the almond extract, and after a moment he looked up at me. I tilted my head questioningly. What?
It took him a second to snap out of his stare. “Oh. Sorry. Nice teamwork there,” he said, then winced as if he thought he’d said something dumb. “Speaking of teamwork,” he added, his voice lighter, “I think you could maybe help me with something.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Hear me out. See, if you’re not talking, you spend almost every second of your life listening, taking things in, right?”
I nodded. That was all I did.
“I feel like, because of that, you’re probably very perceptive. So as an experiment, I’d like to know what you think I should be studying.”
I gawked at him.
You mean pick your major? I wrote.
“Exactly. I’ve had a few friends weigh in, but I think they were joking. Someone said musical therapy, and I’ve never so much as touched a kazoo.”
I smirked at his exasperation.
“Come on. I need some direction in my life. Give it a shot.”
I stared at this boy who I admittedly hardly knew. Yet I felt as if I’d learned so much about him, like, if anyone asked, I could outline his entire personality. He was so warm, so open, so full of simple joy. What had I done to catch his attention, to have him interested in not just my looks, but my thoughts?
I could tell he was actually eager to hear my opinion, so I focused on his question. I could imagine him as an advocate for an abused child or an aide for someone with mental illness, the only person in their whirlwind lives with the capacity to hold them down to the earth. I wrote on the whiteboard again.
“Social work?” he asked.
I applauded.
He laughed, a sound more like music than anything I made. “I’m intrigued. Okay, Kahlen, I will research this field and get back to you.” He glanced down at the cake batter, then raised the whisk and held it out to me, dripping. “Does this look right?”
I touched the whisk, then licked the batter off my finger. Akinli’s warm blue eyes held mine as sweetness spread across my tongue. It was perfect.
I gave an enthusiastic nod, and he reached to taste it himself. “Hey, not bad for my first cake, yeah?”
I grinned. Not bad at all.
I greased the pans, excited that because they were two different sizes, we were going to end up with something that looked like a tiny wedding cake.
“I don’t want to make a big deal about this or anything, but I think it’s kind of cool how you do everything you do.”
I squinted at him.
“I mean, you use sign language, and it’s hard to communicate. But you’re into art and you can seriously cook and, for goodness’ sakes, you can even jitterbug. By the way, I told my mom, and she wants a video. Totally doesn’t believe me. But, yeah, I think it’s nice that you don’t let a little hitch in life slow you down. I admire that.”
I smiled. For a minute, I admired myself, too. He didn’t know how deep my problems ran, but he was right all the same. It was no small thing to try, to find out what you cared about in life. Even this moment, with this wonderful, temporary boy beside me, was a tiny miracle. I ought to give myself some credit.
I went to write my thanks but had a hard time getting more ink out of the marker.
“Ah, I thought it might die. You wanna come by my room real quick to get another?”
Stay calm, I thought. I nodded as nonchalantly as I could.
“Awesome. It’s this way,” he said with a wave, and I followed him down the hall. “I think my roommate left for a while, so at least you’ll be spared that horror. I swear, it’s like he took lessons in how to be an ass.”
I grinned as we came upon a door with the obvious blank space where the dry-erase board should be. On two little leaves that his RA had placed on all the doors down the hall were two names: Neil Baskha and Akinli Schaefer.
Schaefer. I longed to say it out loud. The shape of the word was so pleasant in my head, I couldn’t wait to breathe it into the air. But that would have to wait until I was alone … and not distracted by the disaster that was his room.
To be fair, it was only
