𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐲 / 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞

"yeah, he's coming down now." nichole affirms from the other end of the line. "no- wait. he just went back upstairs. it'll be another couple minutes i think." craig has run up and down the stairs now for a third time since i've been on the phone with nichole.

initally, she called me to see how i was doing, but now she's morphed actual conversation to giving me updates on craig's preparation for our trip. i am still unsure how to classify this hangout- a date? a 'get together'? an outing? this leads to a bigger question, on what spectrum of platonic and romantic are me and craig on? there's a lot of mixed signals i get from him.

i think a lot of conversation is transactional with him but occasionally he slips up and mentions something, or reacts a certain way, that he feels he shouldn't because it's too emotionally involved- and then he pulls away. everything is push and pull with him, and if you can't balance his actions with it's equal reaction, he safeguards himself by running away before you can embarrass him.

yet still, i can't help but wish he would subvert his signature conversation tactic and take a risk. keep things simple. romantic or platonic?- pick one, please. or maybe, i shouldn't care and just enjoy it all the same. it works perfectly fine with kyle.

if i can't change him, i can at least change how i view our interactions. and i've officially decided to not care any longer (starting now) which way the pendulum swings- romantic? great. platonic? cool. it's all the same to me!

"so. what are you going to do today?" i feel bad for mostly talking about myself. the majority of what we've talked about has been centered around me and craig- apparently she wasn't aware we were friends, or 'romantically involved'. i wasn't aware of the latter either, but i suppose we had already kissed. i think that's a secret i'll just keep to myself.

"i think i'll go down to the beach. are any of the girls free today? i know you aren't, of course." she suddenly squeals excitedly, "a garden is just so romantic! tell me everything when you get back!" she adds, like that wasn't a given. her mention of the garden again has me race back up to my bedroom to collect my purse, remembering there is an entry fee.

"well wendy's going to clyde's later." i pause to rifle through my drawers for a couple dollars i may or may not have on hand. they probably don't take card there. "bebe said she's too tired to get out of bed, and she 'has to catch up on the summer i turned pretty'. but heidi is free as far as i know!" nichole begins to speak but she immediately interrupts herself to tell me craig is coming back down the stairs. i think she's more excited than i am about this whole thing.

i sit down on my comfortable bed in preparation of another couple stalled minutes.

"good morning, craig." she giggles knowingly to herself. his distinct voice is barely audible through the microphone, "what. what's wrong?" he says flatly. he sounds like he has a perpetual cold- since his voice is nasally and deep at the same time.

she tosses her braids behind her shoulder. "nothing!" she cheerfully pips, her voice a lot higher than usual as she attempts to conceal some of her excitement. it doesn't work. he doesn't respond to her strange behavior, and sets off without talking to her any longer. "i'll call you back, y/n. i don't want to hold you up." i attempt to protest, but i'm quickly cut off with her exclaiming goodbye loudly into the phone.

i briefly study my reflection in the mirror to make sure i look okay. i throw my purse over my shoulder, grab some sunglasses, and then head downstairs. and before i know it, craig is here. his tall figure is barely visible through the frosted glass panels, and he signals his presence with two knocks on the wooden door, which reverberate throughout the house.

a dim feeling of nervousness rises within me, but i can't tell if it's genuine or if i'm just excited. should i be either? also undecided.

"hey." he greets simply, a carefully managed smile growing on his face as he reads my expression. i quickly give him a once over, my eyes drift from his face to his outfit, curated specially for our outing (at least according to nichole). his dark blue tank-top matches his dark blue converse, but he wears a white linen button down over top to contrast against the shades. there's no buttons done. his baggy grey jeans are worn out at the hems at the bottom because of his, and their, length. i'm surprised he can find pants that even reach to his ankles! craig has to be at least 6'4".

"are you ready?" he peers behind me to glimpse at the inside of the house, but straightens his curious gaze back onto me for my answer. "yes." is all i can manage to say in response. i don't bother locking the door behind me as we walk side-by-side down the gravel path towards the docks.

"so i was talking with tweek this morning and he was being short with me. what would that be about?" he asks me, looking down at the ground as he walks with his hands at his side. he routinely adjusts the beaded bracelet on his wrist, spinning the dark globes every minute or so.

his question is weird to me. how would i know why tweek is mad when i don't live with them, or talk to tweek? "well, did you say something to him earlier?" i wrack my mind for something craig has done recently that would piss him off, but it would be easier to make a list of stuf that hasn't. at least from what craig has told me, tweek hasn't quite got over the whole secret sharing incident; and currently it just seems to serve as fuel for the other fights they have. "no. i just told him i was going out with you today." he sounds genuinely confused as he speaks, not understanding why that might set tweek off.

it seems like everyone else but craig and i have already determined that our interactions together are romantic. "you can't see why that might make him a little angry?" i respond, my smile bordering on laughter at his cluelessness. he's never been good with understanding others emotions though. "no? i didn't tell him that it was a date. just that i was going out with you." now it's my turn to be confused.

when he says, 'didn't tell him that it was a date', does that mean he didn't tell tweek WE were going on a DATE or he didn't tell tweek that we were going on a DATE? both versions have completely different connotations. example a: he left out the part to tweek were this was a romantic gesture- as in we were going on a date together, and doesn't understand how tweek would know that we are romantically involved. example b: he didn't tell tweek it was a date, and doesn't understand why tweek would be upset about a platonic outing with a friend.

"okay pause," he furrows his brow as he looks down at me; waiting for me to finish my sentence. "is this a date? as in, we are going on a date?" i felt i should ask at this point, either for my own clarification or to not embarrass myself. it's always good to be informed! he wets his lips than grins, "does it matter?" he teases, slightly laughing at my seriousness.

i scoff, "yes." he just smiles again, turning his head away from me to glance at the view around him. "it's whatever you want it to be." he answers vaguely, shrugging as he looks back towards me. i don't press him any longer, mostly thanks to our arrival at our destination and in support of my previous-selves' decision to not care about it. if he doesn't care, i don't care either. or rather he doesn't need to know that i do.

instead of one of us driving the boat, a short bearded man in his mid-fifties takes place of the captains seat. i didn't know it was an option to have a driver for the larger boats? last time our captain was tolkien. i guess i didn't think about who would be driving us to the island today, but i'm glad it's not me. i don't have a problem taking control of the smaller runabout boats, but the cabin ships make me nervous to even think about directing. maybe it's not any different, i don't know, but i'm not going to try and find out.

craig stands at the side of the boat near the entrance, extending an arm for me to stabilize myself as i climb into the back. he slides in beside me as the captain, who announces himself as issac, starts up the boat. he glides through the water at low speeds, which is so much better than previous rides where we raced through the ocean. you can enjoy the scenery around you- the calm waves of the ocean seen from miles away, the white flags of sailboats docked in the distance, and if you're lucky- a whale.

"what was that." craig looks at me quickly before whipping his own head around to look behind him, and just missing the tail of a humpback whale breaking the surface. the ripples from the crash of its weight slapping against the water slowly dissipate as it swims away. "you missed it!" i shout in surprise. i can't believe i actually saw a whale! albeit the tail of one- but a whale! this is amazing!

he doesn't share my level of excitement, "there will be another one." he states, devoid of any interest. for how much time he puts into learning the unknown of space, you think he'd share the same craving to learn about the ocean, but he doesn't. we move back onto our previous conversation- but i still keep my eyes on the ocean behind us. just in case.

i turn around again after a couple minutes. i come to terms with the fact i'm not going to see another whale, and looking at the movement in the ocean makes me kind of sick anyways.

"it's weird that we're friends." craig abruptly mentions during a lapse of talking from either of us. my immediate reaction is to deny it, but when i think about it, it is totally weird that we're friends. not in the sense that we shouldn't be, but rather that it doesn't make sense that we are- or at least call ourselves such.

our friendship is a thin veil of a label to describe our interactions, which are few and far between. but does it matter how often we talk or how long we've communicated as long as i like him? which is certainly a new development. he was annoying to me before we sat together on that plane. it's interesting to me how different someone can be when you actually get to know them- but do i know craig? how can i say i've learned who he is as a person (enough to consider him a friend atleast), and feel comfortable enough to worry if we're on a date, when i also worry if i focus too hard on him he'll shatter?

he is too scared. so he can blur all the lines he wants, kiss me, call me pretty, ask me out, but none of it matters because he is so fragile in the way he interacts with others. no one can ever truly know him, because he walls himself off just as soon as he opens up.

craig and i are friends no more than we are strangers, but aren't we all? how can i define my relationship with craig one way, and then classify me and kyle's interactions differently? or even mine with bebe, wendy or heidi? i talk more with them then anyone else, but it's rarely about ourselves. i'm not even sure they know my favorite colour. i'm afraid i'll never know any one better than i know myself. which isn't much at all either. maybe this is why i can't determine what he means to me, because i barely know him. but why should anything matter past if i enjoy talking to him, which above all else is the most important foundation to a relationship?

this is infuriating! i wish i could turn my brain off.

i can't ruminate too long about everything in my life because if i do, everything i know is never deeper than surface level, and i'm drowning in the unknown and what-ifs. but how long can i just ignore my present before i have no future? i can't live in the moment forever. but am i, anyways?

i do too much thinking.

"it kind of is, isn't it?" i agree. he tilts his head at me and begins to speak, but he's cut off by the captain coming over the loudspeakers. "docking in three." isaac broadcasts. i wonder if that's his first name, or if it's his surname? doesn't matter.

hopefully it isn't a long walk to the arboretum. i don't mind all the walking around downtown, but it can get tiring after awhile. like when we all went to chef's place. "how long is the walk to the garden?" i figure craig would know, after all, this is his idea.

"three hours," what the fuck! i'm not going to walk that long; ever! why wouldn't he tell me that it's a whole hike to get there before i decided to wear a dress?

"that's why we're taking a bus."

well. that makes more sense. "so.." craig then finishes his sentence by groaning as he's interrupted by his phone ringing. he gives me an apologetic expression, his poignant stormy blue eyes doing most of the signaling. he is clearly irritated as he conversates with tolkien, and hangs up as fast as possible. "sorry." he apologizes. he takes a deep breath, and tries to return to his previous topic, but the boat's horn sounds telling us to disembark. it's kind of funny seeing how many times he can be interrupted- and even funnier to see his growing aggravation.

"welcome to tisbury, massachusetts, folks." the captain's voice is gravelly, the threatening octave of it making me almost nervous. his words come out rough and make him sound more abrasive then he constructs his sentences to be, but he politely tips his cap to us as we climb down the steps, finding our footing on the wooden dock.

we wait by a lamp post as craig gets directions to the bus stop. "he sounds comically evil." he comments, typing on his phone. "no, he doesn't." i shake my head, even though i agree. he's a sweet man- probably! and he can't control how he sounds. "whatever. sounds evil to me."

he turns his phone to face me so i can see the route. "the closest bus stop is two blocks away. can you walk that far?" he informs me. little bitch! walking two blocks is way different from a three hour expedition. "yes i can. dick." i push ahead, playfully slamming my shoulder against him as i start towards the sidewalk. "wrong way, y/n." i spin around and stare at him pointedly until he catches up with me, leading us towards the bus top on the correct path.

"so, what were you going to say earlier?" i ask. he stalls for a moment, "it's not important." it sure seemed to be important as you tried to tell me twice. but i let it go- despite my curiosity. "how did you find out about this place?" i continue talking. it's strange to me how some people can operate in total silence, even though they have company right there with them. "i wanted to explore the island some before we leave. but, turns out, the east coast is boring." he leads us down a dimly lit alley- a short cut through the street.

through the dark crevice between the brick buildings i can make out the form of a bus stop shelter, the protection of the glass roof proving useless in the sunny, cloudless, sky.

we stand silent and idle at the bus stop, waiting for the 10 o'clock bus. there's dark green benches behind us, but if craig isn't going to sit down i'm not going to either. we don't have to wait long anyways, as the bus pulls up minutes after our arrival. the large vehicle hisses as the driver pounds the breaks, coming to a sudden halt. i conceal my money within my palm, and wait patiently for the passengers to exit. only one person gets off, an older man with a few fraying hairs covering his largely bald head.

he looks at us strangely, darting his wide eyes between us. i wonder if he's going to say something, as his thin, cracked lips tremble, but he takes off running down the street and into the alley. "strange." craig states simply in response, before climbing into the bus. the fare is two dollars, but craig holds out four dollars to the small machine. he refuses to accept my payment, and after the bus driver yells at us to hurry up i relent my protesting. we easily find seats towards the empty middle section of the bus. the other people on the bus look at us curiously, but quickly lower their glances when we notice.

advertisements completely cover the top part and a significant portion of the roof of the bus. they're plastered on top of older, worn away posters and battle the surrounding companies for the flashiest design to attract the most attention. but since there's so many none of them particularly stand out. it is pretty cool to study though- looking at all of the eccentric artwork and cheesy catchphrases.

"i can't believe we're on a bus together, right now." i admit, transitioning my gaze from the bus to craig. "what's so unbelievable about buses?" he looks at me over his shoulder, then adjusts his pose to face me a little more. "not buses. i mean, being with you. we barely talked for years. before this summer at least." not that i minded that we hadn't before. he never made much effort to talk to me, and that was fine by me. he was always kind of an asshole. "what are you talking about? we knew eachother." he frowns in confusion. "are you sure? because you didn't address me by name until last year." and we had been in at least two classes together since sixth grade.

"my bad." he apologizes. "and that's not true. i just never used your name around you." why wouldn't he use my name around me- who the title pertains to? in the past he's always just pointed at me, or said 'you', or used some other pronoun to refer to me. "what. why?"

"i'm not sure. i thought it was funny, i guess." he's so weird.

"anyways. doesn't matter now, does it? i call you by your name, and you call me by mine." and that's fine by me. we make other conversation the rest of the way to west tisbury, and we make sure to do so quietly.

the largely silent interior of the bus is interrupted constantly by the screeching of the breaks as the driver makes more frequent stops to let people off. the bus gets emptier and emptier, until it reaches a point where it's awkward to observe my surroundings without feeling someone will think i'm staring at them personally.

i take a pamphlet from a shelf on the wall behind me to avert my eyes. the path of the bus continues down all of state road, passing through tisbury, north tisbury, west tisbury, chillmark, and aquinnah, before ending at a point at the end of martha's vineyard; the booklet informs me- along with popular tourist destinations along the route. i make a mental note to visit the aquinnah cliffs before we leave. i wonder if we would take the same bus there?

finally, our thirty minute commute comes to a close and the gruff bus driver scowls at us specifically while we exit. "what an asshole." i comment, stretching my aching bones as we stand on the concrete. the plastic seats of the bus remind me of the desks at school- which too are painful to sit on after awhile. "agreed."

"so. where's the garden?" the ride didn't wrinkle my dress (suprisingly) but i smooth it out anyways. "straight down this street." he waits for me to join him by his side before we continue down state road.

the area surrounding us is purely green pastures. occasionally an old oak tree protects us from the blinding hot rays of the sun, but for the most part the road is empty. that includes the passage of cars. when