Where you been? Wendy texted.
Dalia fiddled with her phone, wondering how she was going to respond to her friend.
She had been kind of MIA since coalescing with Julia. Over the past two weeks, Dalia had failed to distribute equal time to her friends. She'd tried to keep up with Wendy and check in on her, but they never could step to the same beat. When Dalia was free, Wendy was hanging with Dean. When Wendy reached out, Dalia was with Julia. Dean got it worse than Wendy did, which said something.
It wasn't her fault, she told herself. She didn't want to just be alone when Wendy and Dean wanted to be in love. That was fair to her.
Even worse, Lawrence ranked even lower than Dean on the hierarchy. Dalia hadn't texted him once since she bolted on him at Joy and Glee. He even called a couple of times.
There was that one day in the kitchen before school when her dad said, "Lawrence asked about you. Are you guys buddies now?"
That threw the "I died" excuse right out the window. Her dad was making it so that she couldn't avoid Lawrence properly.
She mentally kicked herself over her demanding his friendship then discarding it. She was acting like a shitty teenage boy. Even though she couldn't completely blame herself over the distance between Wendy and her, she definitely could blame herself about ghosting Lawrence.
It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to him; she desperately did. She wished the two could meet in an unplanned circumstance and fall into each other's arms. She'd even fantasized about their children a couple of times.
She'd been contemplating texting him back, but after her brain did that, she checked out.
All she could do was think about how aggressive she'd been towards Lawrence. It was embarassing.
As she looked at Wendy's text in the menu browser, she scrolled down to where Lawrence had texted her a week prior. Her finger danced over the screen where his name was, debating on whether or not it wanted to click it.
The only problem was, her voice of reason disallowed her from doing that. She didn't want that feeling in her thighs and gut to ever return. It felt dangerous.
She ignored Wendy's text, exited the app, and faced Julia. "I like him, Ramirez."
"Duh, Glees."
Dalia scowled. "It's that obvious?"
"Yeah. The receptionist at Joy and Glee warned me that you all might be..." she grunted, "busy."
Julia wiggled her eyebrows at Dalia like she always did.
"Jules," Dalia spoke to herself.
"That's her name? Hm. But I don't think it's super obvious. Most of your slip-ups seem to happen outside of his sight, from what you've told me. Just be vigilant."
"Okay," Dalia said as she regained some of her confidence. "I've been doing that."
"There's no other way. Men are a waste of time, remember that."
"I know they are. Maybe that's why my conscious won't let me respond to this text," she held her phone up.
"So I have class now," Dalia got up and grabbed her tote bag. "I will hang later," she hugged Julia.
"We still on for Go-Karts later?"
"Totally."
As she left out the Writer's Cave, she bumped into somebody.
"I'm so sorry, I need to look where I--"
Wendy.
"Uh, hey, Wen, I was just about to answer your, your text," she stuttered out.
"Right," she side-eyed Dalia. Her eyes shifted to the inside of the room Dalia had just left, but she didn't speak on it. Then the bell rang. They had to make it quick.
"We could go get lunch?" Dalia suggested. "I want some Mexican."
"Sure. But we gotta make it quick. Dean needed some help with his chemistry homework."
Dalia inwardly groaned. "That's fine."
During their lunch period, Dalia and Wendy both decided to get Moe's. The lines were short, thankfully.
"Some nachos would be so nice right now," Dalia groaned.
"Word."
Then, in the midst of the thick smell of guacamole and tomatoes, Dalia's nostrils sent a signal to her stomach.
She whipped her head around.
"Lawrence?" she said with a look of terror and surprise on her face.
"Don't look so excited," he said sarcastically.
That was her second time in a day having to try and explain why she ghosted someone. Thankfully, Wendy had given her a pass for her bullshit. The look on Lawrence's face was so passive, and she had no idea of wat to expect from him.
"I am... excited. What are you doing here?"
He motioned an arm to the Moe's written in big letters. "I wanted a taco." above both of their heads. "Good to see you again Wendy," he leaned over and acknowledged her.
"Hi, Lawrence," Wendy smiled.
"I'm going to go order now," he took his hands out of his shorts pockets and pointed to the front counter.
"What was that all about?" Wendy asked Dalia.
"I never texted or called  him after the day you took me to the suite."
"Trick, why?"
"Order 58!" The man behind the counter called out.
Before Dalia had the chance to respond, Wendy had to walk away to get their food.
She came back with two bags and an impatient look on her face.
"Is this something you need to fix right now? We have to get back to school soon."
Dalia looked between Wendy and Lawrence in haste. "I don't know," she said, with the shortness of her breath becoming more and more obvious. She wasn't expecting to have to tangibly deal with any of this. And even if she did know she would have to deal with it, how would she decide who got priority? She was out getting lunch with Wendy to make time, only for Lawrence to appear.
Head spinning.
"Let me make the decision for you then," she shoved one of the bags in her hands at Dalia. "Lawrence, do you mind giving her a ride back?"
Dalia didn't gave the capacity to interject. She just stood there like a deer caught in headlights. She looked at Wendy with a terrified face.
Wendy twitched her head to the side really quickly with a stern look on her face at Dalia. When Lawrence looked back at her, she quickly smiled.
"I guess?" he responded.
"Good," Wendy replied before she bolted out of the restaurant.
That was the last time Wendy left her hanging out to dry, Dalia resolved, then and there.
"So..." Dalia began.
"What was that all about?" Lawrence asked. Straight to it, huh? He wasn't being as nice and charming as he usually was.
They were yelling at each other from across the room. Usually, Lawrence would compensate for Dalia's awkwardness and move towards her to fill the gaps. He clearly wasn't doing that this time. She willed her legs to move her closer to him.
She deserved it. "Oh, Wendy had somewhere to be."
"In the middle of the school day?"
"Yeah, Dean needed some help with Biology or something like that, according to her."
"And you didn't leave with her why?"
Dalia cleared her throat. "I thought we should talk?"
Lawrence grabbed his food. "And you didn't think we should talk at any point throughout these two weeks you've ignored my texts and calls? You're the one who said you wanted to be friends, Dalia."
Aw, man. Nickname card revoked.
"I wanted to text. I just, couldn't? That makes no sense. I'm not used to making new friends, and I didn't want to come on too strong. But the problem with that is, I literally do not know how to not come on too strong. Wendy kind of just fell into my lap as a kid, and Dean came by association. Julia harrassed and complimented me into liking her, and I--"
"Does somebody have a friend crush on me?" Lawrence smiled as he took a sip of his drink and leaned on the table next to him.
Dalia's dark skin blushed red again. She was tired of him embarrassing her. "Don't gas yourself, Lawrence."
"You're the one who did that, Lia. And you know I like it when you're assertive. I don't get why you'd be embarassed by that. It's just a part of the charm."
She was blushing again. It was time to switch gears.
"I thought your lunch was much earlier than this."
"Oh, it is. I'm skipping."
"Just like that, huh?"
"Exactly like that."
She looked at him and let her nerves dissapate.
It's just photographer dude.
"What's that?" she gestured towards his drink.
"Coke."
"Gimme," she snatched it from his hands and took an inquisitive sip. "I have some terms."
"Is that right?" he looked at the drink in her hands and back to her.
"Yes. If you have anything to eat or drink on your person, I have dibs. Your shit is my shit. The rest of my friends must deal with this rule. Even Wendy, who hates sharing. The reason why I must have dibs on your shit, even if I have my own shit, is because I hate when others have something I don't. Yes, it's narcissistic."
"So we're friends now?"
"That's what I just said," she said as she burped and handed Lawrence his drink.
"And I'm supposed to accept your request this time because..."
"I'm done being a scared hoe. Julia Ramirez's voice has been ringing in the back of my skull for weeks now, and I've been ignoring it. But no more. I want to be fearless. And you're going to show me the way. I'm using you, and you're going to deal with it."
"I have plenty of those," he said in reference to fears.
"Literally shut up."
He pretended to zip his mouth closed and throw the key away.
She grabbed his wrist and ignored the burning sensation she felt in order to drag him to his own car.
"Hand me the keys."
Lawrence gave her a questioning look.
She nodded with her bottom lip in her mouth. "Too much? Right," She said as she opened the passenger side door and let herself in.
I don't know why I just said that. I can't drive.
"Where's Trent, again?"
"I don't want to go to Trent," she bit her lip.
"Then where do you want to go, Glees?"
"The city. Take me anywhere you please."
"So you mean to tell me, as much as you ride the bus, you've never ridden a train?" Lawrence asked as the train screeched against the tracks.
Dalia violently covered her ears and tried not to fall backward as she glared at him. "Nah, I ride this shit all the time."
"Clearly," he snorted.
Lawrence decided to take her to the city's Train Station. He literally had a car; she didn't understand why they couldn't just use that. She would have rather had an anxiety attack in a car in broad daylight than underground in a metal bullet. Lawrence was also cute when he drove.
Stop that.
On top of the crazy fast speed, it was also plugging her ears up. The pressure was terrible.
They also could have sat down on the train, but Lawrence decided that standing was the best way to "maximize the experience."
"Come on, Lia, you'll be fine. It's almost over," he took his free arm and wrapped it around her torso.
She let it sit there for a second before declining his assistance. "I'm fine," she said as she peeled his arm away from her.
The train, as if on cue, jerked forward and sent her body crashing into his. Of course that would happen.
He steadied himself and held her in place. "You're going to ruin my Retros. I advise you to take precautions before you have to pay for these. I know you don't have a job."
She smacked her lips. "My dad is rich, leave me alone."
"The universe doesn't seem to want me to do that."
The train stopped after what seemed an eternity, and Dalia walked away from it in triumph.
"There's one check on the bucket list," she muttered.
She had on her plaid skirt, along with the rest of her school uniform. She looked terribly out of place.
"I hope there aren't any cops lurking, man," she said as she looked around the train station.
"It's just security people. You'll be fine."
He stepped back and looked at her. "So this is Trent garb?"
"Yes, I hate it," she unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse.
He looked down at her feet. "I see you still have your platforms on."
Her shoes were ridiculously high. "Yeah, Trent barely lets me in there nowadays. Can I get some new clothes? I don't wanna wear these all day. I look like a runaway."
"Sure."
The two stood in awkward silence for a little bit.
"So, my terms," Lawrence started.
"So you're trying to be me now," Dalia snarked.
"Nah, I just don't need you thinking you run anything around here."
"I'm not running shit in these," she pointed at her shoes.
"And I'm definitely not running shit in these," he pointed at his own shoes.
They did look clean. Lawrence had a new pair of sneakers on every time she saw him. They were always clean, too.
"Okay, you win. But you also lose because I thought you were implying that you run shit."
"I know," he said as he dragged her towards the escalator. It went high.
"Lawrence and Dalia can be friends so long as she lets him take pictures of her whenever he wants to," he tugged at his messenger bag that was strapped across his shoulder.
"Dalia already told Lawrence that she doesn't want to be photographed."
"Relationships are about sacrifice," he shrugged his shoulders.
"And why do you suddenly care about my consent now? You've taken a ton of unwarranted pictures of me."
"This is my chance to do what I want without being the bad guy," he smiled.
"Okay, Lawrence."
"We've got a deal?"
Dalia begrudgingly stuck out her pinky.
"Word," he laughed as he reached out his own pinky.
"You first," he motioned to the escalator.
She warily led the way. Her back faced him as her heart rate increased along with her altitude. That escalator was no joke. She heard a click from behind her.
"Gotta test it some way," he said.
Her heart skipped a beat as she remembered the first time they met.
He was just looking.
Dalia glanced at him one last time before stepping towards her dad. "Hey daddy, I came to bring your camera back," she said to him sheepishly. She knew he wouldn't be angry about her nearly destroying his favorite camera, but the wound was still fresh as far as her guilt was concerned.
"I see. To be quite honest with you, I didn't think that I'd be getting that back. Take five," he gestured to the model sitting on a stool right next to where Dalia stood.
Dalia sucked her teeth.
A light flashed into her eyes before she could counter what her dad had just said to her. She was being photographed.
"Had to test it some kind of way," she caught a glimpse of a grin from dude.
Her dad had the same big smile that he wore most times as he looked between the teenagers.
"This is my daughter, Dalia."
Dalia threw up deuces.
"And Dalia, this is my teenage genius photographer, Lawrence."
How did he get a better introduction than me?
Dalia slapped herself on the wrist.
It's not always about you Dalia. Be quiet.
She aimed her middle finger down at him without turned to face him, and heard another click.
"And you can't do anything about it," she heard him mock.
She smiled to herself.
I don't even know how much I'd let you get away with before I said stop, Lawrence.
"So this is the West End, huh?"
"Yes, it is. One of my favorite places to get inspiration from."
Lawrence dragged his fingertips against the mural they stood in front of. Dalia looked up and saw one that looked like a bunch of kids jumping out of windows.
"This is the shit that shows me quitting painting was the right decision," she muttered.
"Come again?" Lawrence looked at her.
"Yeah I quit that shit. It was getting old."
"I thought you liked painting. Wendy showed me a picture of what you did for her."
"I actually sort of did, but not that much. Then my mother kicked me out of the painting room, and it kind of just kicked the sewer lid on the whole thing."
"And why'd she do that?"
"It was my Aunt Joy's. She and my dad co-founded the photography suite like right after I was born. She didn't want me messing it up in there."
Lawrence stepped next to her and looked up at the same mural. "What's next?"
"I don't even know," she turned to face him and shrug her shoulders. "And for once, I can't bring myself to care."
It didn't feel like the time to chase another hobby or some type of passion. It was beginning to feel like insanity. And she definitely didn't want to spend another summer like she'd spent her last.
She stretched her arms around her head to block the sun from her eyes. Lawrence told her to stand still.
At this, she looked over at him passively and ended up looking into the barrel of Lawrence's camera, yet again.
"Is this going to be a thing?"
"Most definitely."
Dalia sighed.
"Is there a problem?" he dropped the camera back around her neck.
Dalia had been wary to talk about Lawrence's job for a while. It was his profession to make women, and whoever else he photographed, feel beautiful and desired.
This made her wonder. Any time she walked into Joy and Glee and saw him interacting with one of his clients, that worry deepened. She didn't like sharing, and she didn't want her emotions to be a duplicate copy of everyone else he took pictures.
As much as she hated to admit it, she liked it when Lawrence took her pictures. It made her feel seen, or rather, important.
There was no way he was real. He was a fluke.
"I don't really want to be an extension of your artistic passion Lawrence. I want a... friend? And I'm not sure that I know the distinction between your work self and your friend self. I'm not your client, nor do I ever want to be."
"Oh," he said. His shoulders sagged a little bit. "I don't have to if that's how you feel."
Dalia's heartstrings strummed in her chest. His face looked hurt.
She'd never seen Lawrence emote sadness. After what occurred, she knew that she never wanted to see that again.
He clearly loved his camera. But, he was also willing to hang it up to be her friend.
"Lawrence and Lia's Terms and Conditions state..." she began while she poked him in his side.
"Lawrence and Dalia can be friends so long as she lets him take pictures of her whenever he wants to." He finally cracked another grin. Her heart stilled.
"And Dalia can't do shit about it," she added.
It seemed like she was setting herself up, but she allowed herself to let it go.
Just once.
He pulled his camera up and snapped. "Your eyes did the thing."
"Happy."
-
Jill Scott: A Long Walk
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