No.
I can tell you that I have issues. Issues I’m not proud of. Issues I’m trying to overcome.
As usual, Julius looks like he just stepped out of an Armani photo-shoot. Wearing a tan suit that contrasts his mocha-colored skin, his dark hair – which we affectionately call ‘nappy hair’ – neatly cut and styled, and his incredulous face set on mine. The only man I know with darker skin that has light blue eyes. Those eyes see more than they should.
He repeats himself, slower this time, “There’s a sparrow…sittin’ at your desk.” When I don’t respond, he pushes, “A sparrow, Twitch.” Remaining silent, he adds, “A sparrow at your motherfuckin’ desk. Using your f**kin’ computer. The computer that holds all your information on it. A computer that holds all of my f**kin’ information on it, brother.”
He’s pissed. No doubt. But he doesn’t know, Lexi. So it’s warranted.
Lifting my hand in a dismissive wave, I tell him distractedly, “I switched users. She’s got no access.”
“Who is she?”
“She is who she is,” I say in dismissal.
Stepping closer to me on the sofa, he asks slowly and almost threateningly, “I said, who is she?”
No answer. There’s no point. He’ll just go explore anyways. Just as I knew he would, without another word, he retreats and I sigh. He always did stick his nose where it didn’t belong. Standing from the sofa, I close my laptop and set it down on the mantle before I trudge after him.
Nosey motherfucker.
He’s already at the office door staring in when I reach him. A small smile pulls at his lips. And I can’t help but shake my head at Lexi. The ‘sparrow’ can’t sing for shit. But she doesn’t care. She likes to sing. So let her sing.
Approaching with slow steps, his head turns a little towards me, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Lexi. “She for reals?”
My lip twitches, but I don’t respond. Moving closer, I stand by my friend and watch Lexi from the door. She looks so small at my desk, in my throne of a chair. I’m sure her feet aren’t even touching the ground.
I take her in.
Even wearing what she’s wearing – which I do not approve of – she looks like she belongs on a magazine cover.
Singing (more like squawking) Marry You by Bruno Mars without a care in the world, she bounces in her chair but types away before stopping suddenly and leaning back to look at her work. Confusion written all her face, she stares at the computer screen and scratches her head. “Hey, Twitch,” she calls out.
“Yeah?” I answer from the door. She yelps in fright, her hand flying to her chest, “Don’t do that! I hate when you sneak. Or creep. Or skulk.” Her face scrunched in annoyance, she says, “No more skulking, dammit!”
Then she lifts her head to find the both of us looking at her through wide smiles. Her face pinks and the lady comes out of her. Standing slowly, she brushes down the backs of her sweats and my grey tee – which looks ridiculously huge on her – then reaches up to her messy bun as her eyes widen in what I think is shame at being caught out in an outfit like the one she’s wearing.
Serves her right.
Approaching the man by my side, she puts on an easy smile and holds out her hand to him. As he looks down at her with narrowed eyes and a small smile, she explains softly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
Taking her small pale hand in his mocha one, he shakes her hand gently and smiles, “I didn’t want to interrupt the show you were putting on.” Her face flames further and he chuckles, “I’m Julius.”
Nervous Lexi decides to make an appearance, and she rambles, “Like Doctor Hibbert. You know that strange doctor from The Simpsons?” Her eyes widen. “Not that you’re strange! He is! Doctor Hibbert, that is. You are not. I mean, you may be, but I don’t know you. Doctor Hibbert does that thing where he laughs at all the wrong times at things that aren’t funny, and it’s really awkward.” Julius looks down at her rambling self with a creased brow as if he’s not sure if she’s for real, and Lexi adds quietly, “Just like I’m making this conversation right now...” She trails off.
But Julius put her out of her misery with a grin, “I love The Simpsons. I still watch it to this day.”
And just like that, Lexi has found a kindred spirit. She smiles huge, “Me too! It’s my guilty pleasure. I don’t think there’s a life situation out there that doesn’t have a Simpsons line attached to it.”
I don’t get The Simpsons. I don’t really like watching TV. But I watch The Simpsons with Lexi. That way I can see her laugh. And I like to watch her laugh.
I butt in with, “I don’t get that show.”
Lexi shoots me a disgruntled look and opens her mouth to speak, but Julius cuts her off. “You don’t have to get anything, man. It’s stupid humor. Slapstick. It don’t gotta make sense.”
Lexi’s eyes turn dreamy as she looks up at Julius. “Exactly! That’s what makes it so funny!”
Julius laughs, “Damn, woman. You’re my type of chick.” Lexi blushes, and he laughs again, “So what’s your name, singing bird?”
Shit.
Lowering her eyes in embarrassment, she answers quietly, “Alexa Ballentine. But people call me Lexi. I’d like if you called me Lexi.”
Recognition causes his eyes to flash.
Dropping her hand a little too quickly, his eyes widen a moment before he looks down at her, forcing a smile, and says distantly, “Nice to meet you, Lexi. I hope to see you again. I was just on my way out and need a quick word with Twitch.” Her face falls at his sudden change in behavior and his obvious dismissal. Julius spots it and grins widely, “Work stuff, you know?”
Forcing a smile, she says with false cheer, “Yeah. I know. Speaking of which, I have to get back to it. So if you’ll excuse me.”
Soon as we’re back in my lounge room, he starts.
Turning, his eyes pin me down and hold me where I stand. “You are out of you ever-loving mind, brother.” The way he just said brother is like I am anything to him but that. “Please tell me you’re not goin’ through with this, man.” I don’t say a word. I don’t need to explain myself to anyone. I see fear for Lexi shine brightly in his eyes. “She’s a nice girl, Twitch. She’s not what you’ve made her out to be in your f**ked-up head. She’s not your enemy.” If any other person ever called me f**ked up in the head, I’d pop ‘em right in the nose. Not even a joke. Pointing out to the door, he barks, “Look at her! She sings while she types! She talks about The Simpsons like they’re her religion! She doesn’t deserve it, man. Don’t do it.”