what are we?
"So... what are we?"
They sat on a park bench (or on a living room couch (or on a porch step (where they were doesn't really matter))). They were sitting close to each other, but not really - he was sitting on one end, his arm outstretched over the length of the bench, his fingers gently touching her shoulder. She sat closer to his end than the other, quietly swinging her legs, scuffing her shoes on the cement (or the carpet (or the ground)). He had asked the question and now he watched her, waiting expectantly for her answer.
Staring at the grass (or the carpet (or the cement (anywhere but at him))), she bit her lip before responding, "Does it really matter?"
"What do you mean?" He was taken off guard - it wasn't the answer he expected.
"Well, you're you and I'm me. We're both people. Students even. Human beings, if you really want to get that technical. Do we need to be anything more than that?"
He hesitated, not knowing how to respond. Saying a silent prayer, asking that he could say his part right, he finally spoke, beginning with her name.
"[Girl], that's not quite what I meant..."
She cut him off before he could finish.
"I know."
At this point she finally looked at him. He thought he saw a smile playing in her eyes, but there was something serious lurking in her look as well. He looked back at her with hurt, questioning the cruelty in the game she played.
"I don't understand."
"Well [Boy], can I ask you a question?" Not waiting for him to answer, she kept her gaze steady as she spoke to him, "Why did you ask me that?"
He was sweating now, not knowing quite what to say. Finally (and in his own opinion, rather lamely), he gave a short explanation.
"I just wanted to know what we are."
She probed him further. "But why? Why did you ask?"
"Because I didn't know how to define 'us'."
This time he looked away. By now his arm was no longer on the bench, his fingers no longer playing with the hair that rested on her shoulder. Instead, his hands were clasped in his lap as he leaned forward in embarrassed agony.
Not undaunted by his obvious discomfort, she asked yet another question.
"Is there a need for a definition?"
To this he was silent. How should he answer this question? To him, it mattered. He liked her well enough. She was something to him, that much was clear in his mind. But [Girl].... [Girl] was elusive to him. He never could tell quite what she was thinking, how she was feeling. And a part of him just wanted to make certain that he was something to her, too.
As all of this was running through his mind, she sat silently watching him, her face holding a hopeful look. She was expecting something from him in the awkwardness of the silence, though even she wasn't quite sure what. Finally, she reached out her hand and lightly touched his shoulder.
"[Boy]?"
He lifted his face, turning to look at her, his face confused and hurt and unsure.
"I'm sorry, [Boy]."
"Well, that makes two of us." His answer was bitter as he began hardening himself against the hurt.
"No! Don't be angry! Will you please listen for just a moment?"
Again, she didn't wait for him to respond. Taking his hands in hers, her small fingers barely reaching around them, she began speaking, the words tumbling out of her mouth.
"[Boy], I like you. I think that's what you wanted to hear. If so, I'll say it again! I like you! I trust you. But I don't know why you asked me who or what we are. Does it matter? Why can't we just be?"
Interjecting, he took her hands in his, enveloping her fingers softly. "Because people are asking."
Again she asked, "But does it matter? Can't we just be us?"
"I still don't understand." His confused face searched her animated eyes. The answer wasn't supposed to be this complicated. A few words and a kiss could have summed it up, but now he wasn't quite so sure.
After a pause, she finally spoke, her voice filled with a quiet intensity.
"Do you trust me?" This time her eyes were wide, filled with a hopeful innocence and sincerity that frightened him.
"Yes..."
"Then why did you ask if you already knew the answer?"
They sat on a park bench (or on a living room couch (or on a porch step (where they were doesn't really matter))). They were sitting close to each other, but not really - he was sitting on one end, his arm outstretched over the length of the bench, his fingers gently touching her shoulder. She sat closer to his end than the other, quietly swinging her legs, scuffing her shoes on the cement (or the carpet (or the ground)). He had asked the question and now he watched her, waiting expectantly for her answer.
Staring at the grass (or the carpet (or the cement (anywhere but at him))), she bit her lip before responding, "Does it really matter?"
"What do you mean?" He was taken off guard - it wasn't the answer he expected.
"Well, you're you and I'm me. We're both people. Students even. Human beings, if you really want to get that technical. Do we need to be anything more than that?"
He hesitated, not knowing how to respond. Saying a silent prayer, asking that he could say his part right, he finally spoke, beginning with her name.
"[Girl], that's not quite what I meant..."
She cut him off before he could finish.
"I know."
At this point she finally looked at him. He thought he saw a smile playing in her eyes, but there was something serious lurking in her look as well. He looked back at her with hurt, questioning the cruelty in the game she played.
"I don't understand."
"Well [Boy], can I ask you a question?" Not waiting for him to answer, she kept her gaze steady as she spoke to him, "Why did you ask me that?"
He was sweating now, not knowing quite what to say. Finally (and in his own opinion, rather lamely), he gave a short explanation.
"I just wanted to know what we are."
She probed him further. "But why? Why did you ask?"
"Because I didn't know how to define 'us'."
This time he looked away. By now his arm was no longer on the bench, his fingers no longer playing with the hair that rested on her shoulder. Instead, his hands were clasped in his lap as he leaned forward in embarrassed agony.
Not undaunted by his obvious discomfort, she asked yet another question.
"Is there a need for a definition?"
To this he was silent. How should he answer this question? To him, it mattered. He liked her well enough. She was something to him, that much was clear in his mind. But [Girl].... [Girl] was elusive to him. He never could tell quite what she was thinking, how she was feeling. And a part of him just wanted to make certain that he was something to her, too.
As all of this was running through his mind, she sat silently watching him, her face holding a hopeful look. She was expecting something from him in the awkwardness of the silence, though even she wasn't quite sure what. Finally, she reached out her hand and lightly touched his shoulder.
"[Boy]?"
He lifted his face, turning to look at her, his face confused and hurt and unsure.
"I'm sorry, [Boy]."
"Well, that makes two of us." His answer was bitter as he began hardening himself against the hurt.
"No! Don't be angry! Will you please listen for just a moment?"
Again, she didn't wait for him to respond. Taking his hands in hers, her small fingers barely reaching around them, she began speaking, the words tumbling out of her mouth.
"[Boy], I like you. I think that's what you wanted to hear. If so, I'll say it again! I like you! I trust you. But I don't know why you asked me who or what we are. Does it matter? Why can't we just be?"
Interjecting, he took her hands in his, enveloping her fingers softly. "Because people are asking."
Again she asked, "But does it matter? Can't we just be us?"
"I still don't understand." His confused face searched her animated eyes. The answer wasn't supposed to be this complicated. A few words and a kiss could have summed it up, but now he wasn't quite so sure.
After a pause, she finally spoke, her voice filled with a quiet intensity.
"Do you trust me?" This time her eyes were wide, filled with a hopeful innocence and sincerity that frightened him.
"Yes..."
"Then why did you ask if you already knew the answer?"
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