Friday's Date

Chloe was radiant. It wasn’t on the level it had been when I took her to the charity event, but this was above what she normally did. She was going for the sexy look and succeeded. Any other man and it would be straight to the hotel. For me, I appreciated the effort she made even if it wasn’t hitting me like she intended. More importantly, it brought confidence. I could tell by the way she walked that she knew she was going to turn heads.

What got my attention was her noise. Without her Gift, it was pure and clear unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It was almost singing. So light and fluid as it wrapped itself around me. Nothing could penetrate it. All I could see was her. Her beautiful and wondrous noise.

I took her to dinner. I watched her noise dance with her words as she told me stories of her childhood. The first time her dad took her ice skating had her giggling as she talked about the rough time he had on the ice. Another fun story was her first father-daughter dance. How clumsy he was that they eventually put him in the back so no one else could see.

I loved every moment. Each story was a new experience. Her noise was a symphony of emotion in motion. Every joyous memory a new score.

After dinner, we took a leisurely stroll through the nearby park until we reached the point I’d picked out earlier. Taking a seat on the bench, we watched as the sun set through the cracks in the high-rises around us.

“You never tell me anything about yourself,” she said softly, breaking the comfortable silence we had been enjoying.

I glanced over at her. She was nervous, pulling at the hem of her too-short dress.

“I’m not used to speaking about myself and telling stories isn’t something I’m good at. My timing is bad and my voice doesn’t make for engaging or exciting tales.”

She gave me a smile, her noise lighting up. “I promise I won’t fall asleep.”

I looked off towards the setting sun as I clawed my mind for something that might be interesting. “I don’t have too many memories of my childhood, but there is one that I have. I remember my dad was rebuilding a motorcycle. I don’t remember what kind it was, only that it was old and he was obsessed with it. Every Saturday, he would spend at least a few hours working on it. I know nothing about repairing a motorcycle or any mechanical work like that, but this was happening around the time my Gift was starting to appear. I would sit there for hours watching him. Not him, exactly, but his noise. Nothing like it is now, just little bits and pieces. It was a time when I could still feel emotions, so it was both interesting to watch, but also experience. Working on it always brought him a sense of pride. Each time he put his tools down for the day, it was closer to completion. I couldn’t get enough. How he lost himself in his work. The focus he had. The care for the little details. It resonated with me.

Took him almost a year, but he got it done. But there was one more piece he needed. A sidecar. Wouldn’t drive it without it saying it was, ‘Incomplete.’ For months, he searched for one. It was weird. I knew how much he wanted to take his bike out. I could see it every time he looked at it. But he refused to do it without the sidecar. When I asked him, he said it wouldn’t be fair if he was the only one who got to enjoy it. Besides, ‘Sidecars are cool.’”

She was smiling. “He get it?”

I shook my head. “No. He never got a chance to take it out.” Her smile faded. I glanced at her noise, seeing it fill with a melancholy gloom. “Sorry. I ruined the mood.”

Her hand touched mine. I automatically entwined mine with hers as she gave my hand a squeeze. “Not all stories end with a happy ending.”

Leaning against me, we watched the sun finally set with a content silence over us. Her noise still whirled around me, silencing the others who walked by. She was happy and content. As the sun dipped below the horizon, apprehension and excitement crept into her noise.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“I… I don’t want to go home tonight.”

I looked down at her. She didn’t move from her spot on my arm, but I could see her anxiety. I could see that rejecting her now would be catastrophic, but that didn’t matter. I didn’t want her to go home either and had no intention of doing so from the beginning.

“Would you like to go to my place?”