Artistikem

Steven arrives at the park early the next morning, sits patiently on the same bench, and waits for Giana to show up. Over an hour later, she appears and sits beside him gasping for air.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to run,” she is quick to take two books from her bag and give them to Steven. “I brought two because I didn’t know what kind of poetry you liked best. One is a compilation of classic authors; the other has new ones, so you have a large selection to choose from,” she speaks fast, like in a hurry.

“Is everything all right? You sound aggravated,” Steven takes the books but keeps his eyes on her.

“Yeah, sure. Everything’s fine,” she smiles as her breathing normalizes.

“Boyfriend problems?” he chuckles.

“Nothing like that,” she laughs with him, “I’m better off alone for now.”

“Are you sure about that?” Steven gives her a mischievous smile as he starts sliding his fingers through the pages of the classic poetry book.

“More than sure. But let’s talk about something more interesting. Did you watch the news last night? There was this massive car crash…”

“I don’t watch the news,” he interrupts her, “and don’t want to hear about them.”

“Topic discarded,” Giana raises her eyebrows, “you must not be easy to put up with. People say the same about me.”

“I wonder why,” his sarcasm comes with another smile. “Would you like to join me for a stroll?”

She can’t suppress the huge grin that draws itself on her face. She is pleased to accept, and must contain her excitement when he shows some enthusiasm in their conversation.

“What about that guy? The one with the spike cuffs and biker boots?” Giana asks when the topic of finding her a boyfriend comes up.

“Spikes are a cover up for sissies,” his answer makes her giggle. “Look at that one,” he points at a young man jogging with headphones in his ears and muscular arms and legs, “young and fit.”

“Not my kind. Too much into his personal appearance.”

The trail leads them into an area where the trees get thicker and the shadows bigger.

“So,” Giana breaks a short silence, yielding to her curiosity, “do you still use your powers?”

“I’d prefer not to talk about that,” Steven walks with one hand in his pocket and the other holding the books, his sight on the ground.

“I suppose you do. I mean, you used them when my laptop slid off my lap.”

“That was just a reflex,” he tries to cut the conversation short, “and I would appreciate that you never mention it again.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that… it must be great to…”

“No,” he snaps, stops, and turns to her “it’s not good, it’s not great, it’s been a curse.” Steven’s face is flushed with anger, “I knew this would happen,” he mutters and starts walking away.

“What? That what would happen?”

She follows him through the field of trees. His long strides make it difficult for her to close the distance between them. She struggles to keep up with him until she can’t anymore. He is nowhere to be seen, everything around her is either brown or green. Looking round, she decides to walk back the same path they came when someone calls her name. Steven is there when she looks back but there is something different about him. The trees, the sky, even he looks brighter.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she smiles in relief.

He smiles back. “Thank you for the books, I will start on them as soon as I get home. They will be of great help to feel less lonely at night. But you know nothing about that.”

“I do. A lot actually.” His sudden change of mood, the new lightness in the atmosphere, his smile, it takes a moment for her to process it.

They start their way back through the woods, their steps landing softly over the beds of leaves.

“How come? Such a beautiful young woman?” he walks beside her, holding the books behind his back.

“I don’t consider myself to fit into the beauty standards.”

“You do for me. Many young men don’t have the slightest idea about real beauty.”

Giana glances up at him as soon as he says this, her spirit lifted by the moment. “Why are you suddenly so charming?” She stops when she’s able to see the bench in the distance.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been rude to you. There are things that I don’t like to talk about, things I’d like to forget.”

“It’s my fault. I won’t mention them again.”

“I know you won’t,” he puts a hand on her shoulder, sporting a tender look on his face. “After twenty-eight years of not having contact with people, you are the first person I’ve talked to. Now I seem to know why.”

“Why?” the obligatory question comes up her throat like an arrow.

“Because you need a friend,” his smile is warm and bright. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he adds, taking his hand back to his pocket.

All of a sudden, Giana feels as if she had been floating and her feet have landed back on the ground. Steven was touching her forehead with the tip of his fingers and is now pulling them back.

“Wait. What was that?”

He starts walking away.

“Wait!” Giana calls him back but is ignored.

At that precise moment, she remembers his most controversial superpower: the ability to project fantasies into people’s minds. Now she can’t make out what was real and what was a fantasy.

She lets him go with a sigh and watches him disappear in the horizon before heading to the park’s exit.

Chapter 2

 

The beautiful morning scenery is cut by the blade of Steven’s deep grunt. When she looks up, he is there, staring at her and the computer on her lap.

“What do you want?” he blurts.

That question wasn’t what she had been hoping for. She had been sitting on the same bench for more than an hour, for the second day, waiting for him to appear.

“How did you learn about me? I mean, apart from your mother’s incident, of course,” he sits as far from her as the bench allows.

“She kept track of you since the day you saved her until the day you disappeared. My mother was one of those who didn’t think of you as a bad guy,” she notices his nostrils flaring as she says this, “and I’ve seen you around here, sitting alone on this bench.”

“What do you want from me? Just tell me and get it over with,” his tone is straightforward and a bit rude.

Giana puts her laptop away and sits sideways to face him before answering. A female runner passes by and Steven’s eyes appear to follow her, but he’s just staring blankly.

“Nothing, really. Just a little conversation. What have you been up to?”

He turns slowly to her, raising an eyebrow when he meets her smiling face, “you’ll have to excuse me, but I’m not good at small talk, specially with strangers.”

“Oh, dear. I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Giana Armstrong,” she stretches out her hand and this time he shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Waldorf.”

“Dennis,” he corrects her, ”I’m not a Waldorf anymore.”

“Okay,” Giana checks if anyone is eavesdropping on them before proceeding, “but are you still Steven?”

“Steven Dennis,” he peers at her over his shoulder, his white skin contrasting with his dark chocolate jacket.

“Do you like books?” Giana rummages her bag until she finds one, “I work at a bookstore and just finished reading this novel, it’s really good,” she hands it to him, eager for him to take it.

Steven takes a look at the cover before giving it back.

“Don’t like to read about crime,” he’s quick to look away.

“Oh,” she puts the book back inside her bag, “maybe you can tell me what you like and I can get it for you.”

“Look, you seem like a very nice person, but I’m not in the mood for conversation right now,” his tone gives away his annoyance.

“I know I can be annoying sometimes,” Giana pulls herself away from him after noticing that she was involuntarily getting closer than what was comfortable for him.

Steven feels her pulling away and regrets being rude, “I do like poetry,” he mumbles, and is strangely happy to see her smile resurface.

“Then I know exactly what to bring you tomorrow,” Giana leaps to her feet and the leaves under her boots crackle, “see you then.”

“Wait,” Steven stands, trying to stop her from walking away, “why are you leaving?”

“I have to get to work.” She reads the time on her watch and starts walking away backwards, “I’ll see you tomorrow, same time?”

“Sure,” he stays behind, watching her go. He then buries his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and can’t help but smile at her hair swaying to the beat of her steps.