Why I Love Him

Chapter Eight

It was five in the evening in the park. The sun was receding back into the clouds, making the atmosphere cooler and the crowd of screaming people less stuffy and unbearable. Wayne and I were standing behind the string fences that lined the basketball court as we watched the local team play against another. It wasn't a big tournament or anything — it was street basketball, so the rules and the players were a bit rough around the edges.

Someone bumped into me, making me lose my footing a bit but Wayne helped steady me, putting his hands on the string fence of either side of me to give me space. I smiled, holding on to the net as I tried to focus on the game. It was out being out in public. I don't think I've taken a breath of fresh air in days — well, as fresh as a sweat-soaked crowd could get. I kept holding on to the net fence that was a faded yellow while Wayne hovered behind me as we watched the game together.

There was loud cheering, and then a long groan from the crowd as the sound of the ball bouncing off the court was drowned off by that of metal clattering to the ground. Wayne tapped my shoulder, making me look back at him with a raised brow. Sweat was forming on brows, but he still looked decent. He had a loopy sided smile on his face.

"Did you see that?" he asked, making me blink as I realized that I had zoned out and hadn't really been paying attention to the game for the last few minutes.

"See what?"

"The player took the ring with him when he did a slam dunk. I saw it coming, the ring was already busted," Wayne replied, making me turn to face the court again. Just like he said, the basket ring for one of the posts was laying on the floor as a group of players talked to each other at the end, and another — the person who I assumed broke the ring was having a loud argument with one of the game organizers.

"Woah," I said, making Wayne laugh.

Wayne was laughing.

I was smiling.

This is fun. It feels almost surreal. It was one of those dates I've always wanted to have with Wayne when we were in university together. Basic, fun — inexpensive.

"Too bad they had to cancel the game, it was only halftime," Wayne said, taking a sip of his soda through a straw as we walked through the park gardens. The game had been canceled because of the broken ring, so the crowd at the court quickly diffused. Wayne and I had planned the day by the minute, so we had to look or something else to do before he dropped me off at my place. I smiled to myself, holding the can of Soda Wayne had got for me from a food stand not too far away. We walked side by side through the stone part, noticing the squirrels that were running about trying to hide nuts and the birds that dropped sticks from the tree branches ever so often.

"Do you think we have enough time left to walk to the fountain?"

"There's a fountain?" I asked, displaying how little I knew about the town.

Wayne laughed, nodding before he let out a small sigh. "Yes John, there's a fountain," he answered, smiling as he looked away from me and up ahead the path.

"I think we could waste an extra hour. We'll walk to the fountain now," he said, and I nodded, finishing the last drops of my soda before scrunching the can and tossing into one of the bins lining the path.

Wayne has only been in town for just a little over a month and he already knew every nuke and cranny. I wasn't surprised, he's always been the social type and I guess having to oversee the construction of stores made him move around a lot. It was only sad that I've been here for five years, and I didn't really know anywhere apart from the mall and places around it, and that was only because of work.

As Wayne said, there was indeed a fountain hidden within the park garden. We sat on the stone slab side by side, talking about nothing relevant as the sound of water running served as background noise. There were a lot of pigeons around. They stood around our feet, not flying far anytime Wayne or I would kick into their little flock. It looked like they were expecting to be feed. Too bad neither of us brought food.

I looked out into the garden, taking in the different flower arrangements and bushes. It was beautiful, and a feeling of regret filled me as I realized that I could see this every day if I wanted to. I just didn't go outside much.

"About the therapist," Wayne started, making me look at him from the side of my eye. "I found a good one in town. I'll message you the address and details. I might have to drive you there for your sections. I hope you don't mind," he said, looking into the garden. His honey-colored hair shone in the early evening light. I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. Sometimes I wasn't sure if I was grateful or weirded out by how nice and friendly Wayne was being with him. I guess my brain was having a hard time believing it was the same person that caused me so much pain five years ago.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," I answered in a dismissive tone, running a hand through my hair as my face warmed up. I always did this. Zoning out and retreating to my thoughts was second nature to me now.

"Your roots are obvious now," Wayne said, tossing the discussion form before away. He must have noticed that I didn't want to talk about what I was thinking of from the tone of my voice. I touched my hair again, realizing that he was talking about the dye job fading out and dark roots growing in.

"Yeah, I guess," I said, and Wayne just smiled, his twinkling eyes making me a bit uncomfortable.

Him being nice to me for hours on end was uncomfortable.

"You only ever dye your hair blue. It was the same when we were in university—" Wayne paused, reaching out his hand. I thought he was going to touch my hair, but he pulled his hand away mid-air as if telling himself 'not yet.' I was glad. I could use as little physical contact as possible to make sure I was in control of the situation.

"No other color suits me," I said as I remembered the day I dyed my hair green, and immediately bleached it so that I could dye it blue again. I didn't like it. I looked like a weird vegetable. I don't know, I just guess blue's my color. It matched my eye, and the pop of color made me look less zombie-like by countering my pale skin and dark circles.

"So, when are you dyeing your hair again?"

"I don't know — why are we talking about hair dye?" I asked, making Wayne laugh before shrugging. He was in faded blue jeans that were folded at the ends. He was also wearing a baggy white shirt that somehow managed not to look like he was wearing a bedsheet.

Gosh, he looked good in anything.

"I guess I don't want things to be awkward and quiet," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "If discussions get serious, things get uncomfortable."

I mean, he's right. Things did get awkward fast when we talked due to how we sidestepped discussions about the majority of what happened in the last five years and during the time we were in school together. I wish it wasn't like that. I wish I didn't become quiet and get upset when bad memories unearthed themselves. I wanted to talk about a lot of things, but that won't happen if we never brought them up.

I also had some personal questions I wanted to ask Wayne. Like, what he's been doing for the past five years. I wanted to know if he saw anyone, I wanted to know what happened to the girlfriend he had when he graduated, and I wanted to know how exactly his coming out went and not just the vague details he'd given me when we went out for dinner. But I'm afraid he'll ask me personal questions too if I did. I mean, fair. If I got to ask him personal questions about his life in the past five years it only made sense that mine would be fair game too.

And really, it's not like I've done anything in those five years. That's why I don't want to talk about them. It's embarrassing. Wayne will have lots to talk about, and what? I'll keep talking about how I moved around like an emotionless zombie having s*x and crying about our failed relationship. It was pathetic.

I've been pathetic.

So, I'll never tell him.

"Do you want me to help you dye your hair?" Wayne's question made me blink before turning to look at him. I found him staring intently at me as he waited for me to give him an answer. "I can do it today. We'll just pick up dye from a department store, and I'll dye your hair at my place before I drive you home." His voice was a little quiet when he mentioned his house. It was like he was sure I'd refuse at the mere word but was still giving it a shot.

I bit my lip as a couple of the few good memories I shared with Wayne flooded my mind. Wayne used to dye my hair back when we were in university. He was the reason I had dyed hair at all.

I guess the memories cheered me up enough to make the edges of my lips curve up in a smile. It felt forced, but it wasn't. My lips weren't just used to smiling a lot — as wide.

"Sure," I said, surprising Wayne with my answer.

"I'll let you dye my hair."