Page 68 of Fruit
Joaquin laughs as I start kicking him, and we scuffle like when we were kids and I goaded him into fights.
“Okay, mercy,” he calls out eventually and we slump onto the couch, panting and laughing. I grin at him and he shakes his head, but he’s smiling too.
**********
Joshua misses the next two weeks at the youth club. His mom calls each time to warn us, however, explaining that Joshua wants his bruises to go down before showing his face in order to avoid questions from the other members. Even as it worries me, I understand. Mrs. Hume also updates us on the fact that the police and social services have officially barred Joshua’s dad from seeing him. Mr. Hume isn’t currently in custody, but a hearing is planned for the near future.
When Joshua eventually does show up, I manage not to crowd him even though I want to run over and give him a hug as soon as I see him. He looks weary beyond his years as he steps into the common room, but I’m overcome with pride for him and all the other young people as I watch them handle his return with welcoming casualness.
“Avoiding that foosball rematch, eh?” Marja says, slugging him on the arm. “You scared Imma kick your ass again?”
“Bring it on,” Joshua replies, bumping shoulders with her playfully on their way to the foosball table.
I follow their lead, grinning at him when it’s time for Art Club.
“Time to get messy,” I say, holding up some charcoal. His lips twitch up and he nods.
I catch him when the art session is over, asking him to stay back as the other members file out.
“How’re you doing? I’m not gonna press if you don’t want me to but, for real. How are you?”
Joshua opens his mouth and then closes it again, shrugging. There’s a slight pause. “I’m okay. I’ve been better or whatever but…I’m okay,” he says finally.
“Okay. You know you’ve got us here if you need anything, right?”
“Yeah. Thanks,” he says quietly. I smile at him.
“I actually also wanted to ask you a little favour.”
Joshua looks at me questioningly.
“I’m gonna start running a slightly more structured art club for a few weeks and need someone to help me out.”
“Like. With what?”
“Well, you can participate for sure, but if other people need help—you’re great with the others—”
Joshua snorts.
“Joshua. You are. People trust and listen to you, and you’ve got a great eye. I think you’ll be able to come up with good ideas too, so we can work together to decide what to do for each session.”
Joshua looks down, frowning. “I don’t think I’ll be very good.”
“I do. And I guess we won’t know until we try,” I say. Joshua stays silent. “You absolutely don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I really believe you’d be great at it if you did.”
Joshua looks at me. “I hate it when you do that.”
I shrug unrepentantly.
“Okay. Fine,” he sighs. I grin at him. The expression only grows as I see the smile he’s trying to withhold.
**********
The music is dripping all around me. The lights, the heat of the other bodies. The alcohol in my blood is thrumming to the beat, running its fingertips across the edge of my sight and blurring the world away.
I laugh as the guy spins me. Air wraps itself around my bare thighs as my skirt flutters and then it’s his arms around my waist. I turn around again, untangling myself and taking a step away, moving my hips. He follows my lead and mirrors my movement, grinning at me. I smile back. The music is a tribal impulse that takes over me. Ancient and simple, all I have to do is follow its beat.
There, from that visceral tempo, appears Sebastián. I think I’m imagining him at first, conjured from the beating of my heart, from the juice pooling in my mouth and down, leaving my neck sticky and wanting for touch. He disappears for a moment as the lights go down and solidify again. He doesn’t make a move towards me, looking at me from across the room.
