Peacock

Warning: Sex Scenes between a MARRIED COUPLE.

Dear diary,

I’m waiting. I’m waiting for someone to come and get me—like Snow White waiting for her Prince Philip. I don’t fit in—no one laughs at my jokes, and no one invites me to their birthday parties. Or sleepovers.

I guess it’s because I’m always writing in you. You’re my best friend. My mom orders me to shut you, breathe the fresh air outside and socialize more. I claim I am always willing to invite the new kid over.

You haven’t invited the new kid over since you were in kindergarten! She chastises.

Yes, we got together for a sleepover two weeks ago! I yell back.

She tells me she’s going grocery-shopping. I roll my eyes, returning to you. You never yell. You never look at me in disgust, and you never decide whether my words are important. When I graduate from middle school in a year, I’ll publish you. And, like Anne Frank, become a world-renowned writer.

Think of it, diary. Think of all the words that clique will say. How they’ll relish the adventures I penned, how they wished they were there in that treehouse in the backyard, eating ice cream during the summers and drinking hot cocoa with marsh mellows every fall and winter. The leaves’ orange, red and yellow colors distracting but also ugly at times. The snow, whiter than my skin, falls softly on the grass. I hoped we had no school the following day.

We would always have to go to school, no matter what. Except if we got ten feet or something.

Anyway, diary, I do socialize. See? I just described it.

That clique at school never liked me. Whenever I needed help in Chemistry, I would always sit next to Marcus. He’d look at me real close with those uglier-than-the-Ugly-Duckling Coke bottle glasses, and say, “How about you go sit with Denise over there?” And he’d point in the way back, to a girl with braces and a smile a mile wide. She was the new kid. Then he’d snigger with his two best friends as I transferred to a new table.

More like moving to another school.

Denise was kind, but she picked her nose. I mean, we were twelve! Not four. The last time I picked my nose was preschool. I told her not to anymore, got her a tissue and she blew right into it. After throwing it away, she said she’d stop. The next day, the finger had white yuck on it after…

Never mind. I told her to stop. I was going to throw up. It was disgusting. Anyway, once I moved tables next to a quiet girl who never really looked at me fully, I worked until the year was over. Now that I’m thirteen, I can do whatever I want, right?

My mom would always check up on me, meaning she’d always call me right before I went out with friends. And tell me when I was heading out the door that I couldn’t go shopping alone. And exhort me never to be alone with boys. And, for the zillionith time, remind me that make-up and dating and hugging guys was off limits until I was ninety-eight.

No, not that old. But it felt like it.

My older sister dated for two years after she graduated high school. Seriously, diary, when am I going to be free of all these rules? I need someone to get me—please! I actually snuck out of the house, going over to Caleb’s house. Knocking on his window after climbing up a ladder and onto the roof below his window, he let me in. Of course, we weren’t alone—Kristin and Maddie were sitting on the floor, playing Chinese Checkers.

Caleb laughed at everything, regardless of how funny I was. I didn’t think so, but obviously he did. He also had posters of his dogs and cats plastered all over his room. Rudolph, Candy, Sheldon and Max were his dogs, and his cats were Easter and Rex. Rex was awesome—he’d curl up in your lap, take a nap and let you pet him, his green eyes closed as he purred. Easter was the complete opposite—she’d hiss and scratch at you even if you looked at her. She hated humans, and I was her first victim when I went to pet her. She drew blood, and I wanted Caleb to get rid of her instantly. He never did.

I detested Easter from then on. Rex and I cliqued like nothing else.

He still curls up in my lap whenever I come over. Last Christmas, I dodged Easter’s evil claws as I sat on one of the couches down in the basement, Rex coming over, his sleek black body lying on my skinny thighs. Easter stared at me from a distance. Well, she’d have to wait until her evilness wore off.

It never did.

So there we were, Caleb and I, sitting on the bottom bunk of his bunkbed, the door open, of course. His parents said he could have friends over if the door was open. It was, all the time. He said he had only female friends. I didn’t know what his parents said about that, but I know my mom would encourage me to pursue female friendships at all costs. My father told her to calm down.

She never did.

That’s why I always spent time at Caleb’s. Not only was he my neighbor, but he was also my classmate. Why we never sat together in chemistry class was the teacher’s fault—she didn’t want best friend partners lest we’d talk instead of learn. But I always whispered to him, and he always passed me notes. I hoped someday they’d be love letters. Maybe in high school. *sighs* One day, I’ll find love.

Anyway, Mrs. R told me my mother called. I told Mrs. R to tell my mother I was spending some time with my best friend, and then whenever she’s with her best friend, she doesn’t have to come home at a specific time.

“Your mother needs you home.”

I looked at Caleb’s alarm clock on the bedside table. “It’s 8:30. Why can’t teenagers go to bed when they want?”

“Young lady, you are not independent. And you better get your butt back home, or your mother’s showing up!” She left, shaking her head.

“You better go.”

Caleb sounded like he was scared of my mother. His voice trembles, and his face pales a little. I roll my eyes, telling him to man up. He punches my arm, but we laugh. Ever since we were two, we laughed at this little act of ours. Caleb makes me forget everything. As I head out the window and down the ladder, Caleb watches me go, sadness reflecting in those sea-blue eyes.

Sometimes, Cal, you can speak up for me, you know?

I hope one day, he would. Sometimes, he can be so reserved, you forget he’s there. I’ve told him, diary, but I just don’t want to marry a shy guy one day, you know what I mean? I’m always telling him to speak up, or just grab the stupid football and throw it so he can score a touchdown. He barely kicks the ball in soccer, and when he is bouncing that basketball around the court, he’s confused, or disoriented, or looks like he’s about to cry.

I don’t get it.

Anyway, he’s my best friend. *sigh* I just wish he’d enjoy life, not fear it.

So I’m waiting. I’m waiting for my prince charming. I want it to be Caleb. Since before preschool, his whispery voice has always had me leaning over to hear him. I’d say ‘What?’ probably fifty times a day before he’d pluck up the courage to freaking project his voice.

Caleb’s cool, too: his Halloween costumes consist of crosses between superheroes and supervillains. No one likes them but me. I always high-five, compliment or slap him on the back. Caleb shrugs, saying he’s always thinking of new characters to create. I told him he could be a comic book writer one day. He nods, and then buries himself in his writing and drawing when he’s alone in his room. I wish he’d just tell Kristin and Maddie to go away.

I wanted to be with just him.

When I went back to his house, I told Kristin and Maddie to go away. They glared at me, packed up the game and went home, muttering I wasn’t invited to the ice cream social on Sunday. I couldn’t have cared less if they excluded me from their hair, make-up and nail spa day this coming weekend. Maddie was uber rich, so she could do whatever she wanted. Kristin was second place, but she didn’t have all the bendy purses, just the money.

I was dirt poor compared to them.

“Hey, do you want to look at my drawings?”

I jumped up, taking the reins. “Yeah—I also want you to start thinking of talking more, having a louder voice and asserting yourself more on the bus. You’re always waiting, Caleb, to be rescued by someone louder than you!” Throwing my hands on my hips, I went over, grabbed his desk chair and fell into it. “I’m not sorry you’re the way you are—”

“Raja, it’s just—”

“Believe in yourself. You look like you’re about to pee yourself up on stage in the Christmas musical every year. I thought you enjoyed acting.”

“I hate it!”

For once, he had a dark tone to his voice. I jumped a little, startled.

“See, Caleb?” I returned to the bed, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “You can do it.” I go over to his desk, dig into one of his drawers and, as he’s protesting, rip out a drawing. “Yes!” I glory in the fact that I snatched something of his that he never showed to anyone, and ran around the room, holding it above him as he told me to give it back to him. Now!

Something made me stop. And I shivered, too. Turning slowly around, I said, “Caleb? Are you okay?”

He nodded. Then Caleb, quick as a snake, snatched the drawing right out of my hand. He smirked, like he had won the whole thing. I studied him, wondering whether I was imagining the whole thing. Did he…was he one person around others and another around me? Was this some kind of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde situation? Did he take a potion every night before I came over?

We’ve been besties since before school. So why did he hide? I had to ask.

“Caleb…” I approached him cautiously. “Why are you all of a sudden like this? It’s like you have two personalities.”

“Uh…” He shrugged one shoulder. “I just don’t want anyone grabbing my stuff and looking at it. It’s personal. And don’t ever go into my drawers without me, okay?” He actually jabbed a finger in my face. I nodded quickly. Something was up.

Caleb blinked, his eyes going from sea-green to aqua-blue to pretty hazel. When I pointed this out, he looked at me like I shouldn't get so lost in them. Then in a low whisper, he said, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been able to shapeshift all my life. No one knows but me.”

My jaw hit the floor. When I picked it up, I quickly put a chair between the open door and wall, and Caleb cracked up. He laughed so hard he fell to the carpet. Holding his stomach, he laughed until I yelled at him. He told me I was so funny.

“Raja, you don’t understand. I’ve been able to do whatever—”

Footsteps! Caleb and I hid, he as a salamander and I under his comforter. When Mrs. R’s voice asked whether we were okay, I peeked, nodding quickly, wanting her to just go away. She nodded, leaving. Caleb showed himself, but he stayed a salamander. He said he could do whatever he wanted now that he could become whatever animal.

“Could I?” I asked hopefully.

Before Caleb could answer, Mrs. R told me my mother wanted me home. I begrudgingly followed a human Caleb to his window, and, after he opened it, said goodnight and headed outside. I was sad, but at least my best friend had a little bit of spark in him.

It grew into a wildfire in high school. At prom, Caleb approached me as I was pouring myself some punch from the punch bowl. “Yes?” I asked, pretending not to notice him.

“Care to dance?”

Slow music filled the gym. I shook my head. “Don’t like it.”

He cocked his head. “Why not? Everyone’s here.”

“So?” I didn’t mean for it be so icy, but he frowned.

“Raja, why are you so mean? I invited you to prom, your father signed the stupid form saying I could take you and here you are, rejecting me. I don’t understand—”

“Just don’t like dancing. Don’t take it personally!”

Caleb walked off, sitting gruffly at a table. His sweet sixteen was two days away. He was getting together with some friends, he said. I think he was hiding something. I was planning on making it a surprise birthday. He shrugged indifferently when I said movie birthdays were lame. When I went over, putting my hand on his, he jerked away. I apologized, but he moved somewhere else. I followed him, but he wanted nothing to do with me. I knew he was cold because I had been. Whatever I was, he responded in kind. When we were turning ten, we both had a birthday party, and the balloons looked like they read 1010 when they were floating beside each other. Like we were turning that old.

I wish we could. Caleb said it was too old.

Sometimes, I felt I was trying too hard to be someone. I couldn’t just be myself. A shapeshifting man, and a normal girl. I wish I had powers. One day, we ran away to the football stadium after getting our diplomas, throwing our hats into the air. I jumped into his arms, him twirling me around.

Just like he did at our wedding in front of the waterfalls.

A few nights later, I asked him whether he could give me powers, or I had to be born with them. He just got into bed. I did the same. Lying on my back, I smiled as he climbed atop me. I lost myself in those sea-green eyes.

“Why do you want powers?”

“Because you do. We’re besties, remember?”

We kissed long and deep, me hugging his neck, closing my eyes. Removing our clothes, we enjoyed each other until the wee hours. We fell asleep but awoke in each other’s arms, where we continued making love until the late morning. When he told his bride he wanted to get on with the day, I begged my bridegroom to stay. He insisted.

Some weeks later, we were taking a quiet walk through the snowy woods by the place we had our honeymoon. I reminded Caleb, and he said he remembered. But something made me stop. I blinked at the white stuff covering the crushed stone pathway. Get a grip, girl! You’re married, but you’re waiting to be rescued.

I asked Caleb that night whether he loved me despite my self-absorption. He looked at me like I had asked whether he wanted a divorce. “No!” He shook his head, his beautiful eyes staring at mine. My ugly ones. “Babe, you’re my wife, my only love. Of course I love you!”

I just said it. “I’m waiting to be rescued.”

“Rescued from whom? No one’s taking you from me. Our wedding was full of the truth that we’d never separate.”

“I know, but—”

“You know, Raja, you don’t consider others first before yourself.”

Caleb walked away. I stood there in my winter coat, my gloved hands clasped. Finally, I ran to him, and he held me in his arms. “Stop waiting, Raj. Just be with me!”

That night, Caleb wrapped his arms around me, and I hugged him tightly. Releasing him, I told him to turn around. Caleb did, and I ensured he didn’t even peek as I exchanged my exercise clothes with a transparent night robe. When he turned around, Caleb stared at my naked body, struggling with the right descriptive words. As his eyes drank me in, I went over, removing his button-down shirt, belt and underwear. I whispered seductively to him, and headed for the shower, Caleb following.

That morning, as I stroked his hair, Caleb told me I needed to be rescued. I know, I said. When we got out of bed, he wrapped muscled arms around me. Making out with my neck, he told me to get in bed. I said I wanted to get up and get going. We have jobs, I said. He grunted.

I told him he was right as we walked down the same pathway the following fall. I wanted desperately to let go. I didn’t see why I was waiting for someone to come rescue me. From what? Who was I chasing? My so-called prince charming was right here. I didn’t need anyone else.

I could be scary selfish, wrapping myself up in my own world of me, I and mine. My two best friends. But laying an arm across Caleb’s chest that night, I closed my eyes. One day, I’ll free myself. I won’t wait, because no one’s coming for me.

No one ever did, nor does.

So why…I asked myself the following Spring, Caleb on a business trip and I sipping tea on the back porch’s outdoor bench swing, wait?