Night Moves

[Jilly]

"...Yeah." A grin flashed on the boy's lips for a millisecond. "Me, too."

The chair screeched along the wood as the boy scoooched closer to Matias. He leaned forward again, resting his arms on one leg. He looked back out towards the water.

"...I ever tell ya how I tried to flunk that entrance test?"

[Maraoone]

Matias laughed in disbelief, eyebrows raised.

"Why? Passing that exam's the last good thing that's happened to me."

He put weight on the bendy plastic arm, leaning in towards the boy.

[Jilly]

The boy laughed to himself. "Wish I could say the same, but... idunno. It ain't really that interesting."

He paused and gathered his thoughts before continuing.

"My mom made me take it. Like, she signed me up and shit and just dumped it on me. I was real mad at her for that, like I couldn't make my own decisions or some shit... though I was real pissed at a lotta people...

"...Anyway, yeah. So I didn't give a shit about if I did well or not because I was so mad. I even went outta my way to bubble in a few of the answers I knew was wronf. Couldn't make it too obvious, though I guess it weren't enough because I made it to the reserve list. Then someone gave up their slot and I 'won' that lottery and couldn't just say no, so."

Another pause as he wiped his palm over his face. He relaxed back into the chair as the plastic creaked.

"It's such bullshit, ya know? Like even God was railroading me. But..."

Creak.

"...idunno. I got to meet ya. So I realized a while ago regretting about it was probably pretty dumb."

Another creak as he leaned forward again, this time looking right at Matias.

"I'm tired of regrettin' things. And I just... idunno... I hope you're not regrettin' helping me with my own choices."

[Maraoone]

'I got to meet ya.' Matias smiled wryly. No one would ever tell him that.

He tried to pull the smile a little bit wider, just for Leslie. To humor him, he guessed. It was the least he deserved.

It was so hard holding that look he gave him. Kind, warm. Enough to burn right through him. But he held it. For him.

"I don't. Don't regret helping you out."

He looked away for a moment, gave the night sky and its stars one last look.

"Not if it brought you here at least."

Swallowed a lump. Placed his hand on the arm of Leslie's chair. Waited for it.

[Jilly]

Leslie looked at the hand, then back to the sea without an expression.

"I'm... I'm glad."

After some time, he flashed a smile that rolled away with the tide.

"I also... uh..." He cleared his throat and glanced at Matias, at Matias's hand. "I guess it's gettin' real close to the end now... If you make it home or not, like, it ain't up to me. Long as you just do your best, ya know? That's 'bout the best guys like us can do, our best, whatever ending that gives us. Guess that's what I was tryna say."

He looked at the hand again, at Matias, at the hand again. He bit his lip.

"...And, uh—"

[Maraoone]

Matias opened his eyes.

Still night. Still in the corridors.

Still alone.

He sat up in his bed, pulled on his slightly damp shirt. Didn't move for a few seconds. Just, he couldn't sleep anymore, but there was a feeling he'd had, a nice feeling, and it was gone, and he wanted to feel it again, but even the memory of the feeling was slipping away from him like sand between his fingers. He even waited for that cold frigid breeze to enter, but it didn't. The air was stagnant. Didn't feel cold or warm anymore, despite everything. Like his nerves had been scorched off.

Do your best. That's what he'd been told.

He reached into his bag. Sifted around a few seconds, sort of aimlessly. Fingers just wiggling, feeling for something. And then, they felt a crumpled, thin object.

He pulled it out slowly, careful not to rip the paper. And then, in his hand, was a deformed, days-old paper boat.

He'd deposited all the ones he'd made by Leslie's body, he thought. Yet, here in his hands was another one.

So why was it here?

He sucked at math, so he sucked at counting. He'd made an extra, and had just forgotten about it until now.

It was a last farewell from Leslie, some last reminder for him to do his best before he sailed off to the great ocean in the sky. He needed to let go, and stop blaming himself for something that wasn't entirely his fault. He needed to move on.

It was a warning from Leslie, to do his best while he still could. Dreams meant something, his mom would tell him. He'd had nightmares shortly before Dad lost his job, ruined all their lives.

He made it just now, actually, and has been lying to himself and to you this entire time. He did it to make himself feel better, the same way dreams are stitched and folded together from other figments of your memories and imagination, crafted so you can tell yourself what you want to hear, no matter how nice or ugly it may be.

All of the above.

None of the above.





He didn't really have the presence of mind to decide on an answer. All he knew was that he felt newly bereaved. The air felt warm and cold and ghostly and lonely, and he fucking missed Leslie. And he would do his best because Leslie wanted him to, because he couldn't do anything but his best, because he wanted himself to do his best.

He would leave this room because his best wasn't here, because he had to keep trying.

Or simply because he didn't want to be here anymore.

So, for one last time, he uncrumpled this paper boat. He uncrumpled it, and he made his slow trek over to the railing of the boat. He looked over the boat, settled on the palm of his hand, and tipped his hand over.

And he watched as it floated down, landed onto the great sea below.

((Matias Juarez continues in Ashanti & I))