“I’ll be outside dribbling the ball,” I say, making the motion with my hand and juking back and forth with my body.
“You’re such a geek, Ben,” Harper says, pulling her arm out of my grasp and closing the bathroom door behind her.
The trap has been set. I walk out through the garage and grab the basketball from the basket in the corner. Palming it, I find it has enough air. It’s faded from the sun and missing most of the black ribs. It’s just an orange ball all these years later.
Arms crossed and eyes narrowed, Harper opens the garage door and crosses to me. “Don’t think this means anything. My mom made me come out here.” We both chuckle after she realizes how childish it sounds.
I pass her the ball. Awkwardly, she catches it and then brings it up to her nose to give it a sniff. “If I’m a geek, what does sniffing a ball make you?” I ask. “Freak,” I mutter.
Harper shoots a basket and makes it. “It reminds me of something,” she says.
Walking over to her, I take the ball back.
“Something good. I like to remember the good things. Before all of the bad swallowed most everything else up. Shoot it.”
I do and miss by a foot. “After dinner want to head up to the water tower? Someone said you can graffiti on it without repercussions.”
She wrinkles her brow. “Where did you hear that? The bar?”
I shrug and shoot the ball. Nothing but net. “I have my ways.”
“You want me to be your friend now then, huh? I’m getting whiplash.”
“I’m sorry. For so many things. If we talk through it maybe we can get back on track.”
Harper sighs and closes her eyes. “Which track?”
“Whatever one you let me on.”
Harper makes another shot and wipes her brow with the back of her hand. “I need to go wash my hands and see if they need any help in the kitchen. If we can pick up snacks, I’ll go to the tower with you.”
I go down on my knees and press my hands together. Harper turns around and smiles when she sees me.
“Friendship track, Benny.”
The smile leaves her face, slowly. “Dinner truce?” she says.
“Thank you,” I reply.
Then she leaves.
++++
I have all of Harper’s secrets. Even the ugly ones she doesn’t want another soul to hear. She has more of mine. Although our parents don’t know the extent of which our lives are entangled, we both know they sense the shift in the atmosphere. They didn’t bring up anything untoward. That’s the first time they’ve been polite.
We filled up an entire shopping basket at the 7-Eleven and she’s made me hold the enormous bag as we climb the ladder up the old water tower. It’s walking distance from our house and we spent countless hours here as children. It was safe here. We could talk about anything we wanted, away from prying ears and parental eyes. A no judgement zone. We haven’t been back since I brought her here to tell her I wanted to enlist in the Navy instead of go to Harvard.
Harper climbs slower than she did back then, her feet more tentative on the rungs than they were all those years ago. I try to keep my eyes away from her short shorts, but when she brings her foot up to the next step, I slip and see a glimpse of her hot pink panties.
“Pink,” I shout.
“Oh my gosh. Stop looking! I should have known better! I have Jenny Megly to thank for your obsession with female underwear.”
“I’m only obsessed with yours,” I toss back, laughing to punctuate my old-school game. “I love when you wear short shorts.”
Harper speeds up after groaning a frustrated sigh. We go all the way to the top and sit down on the metal ledge, our legs dangling out of the lowest barrier. The pink and orange horizon in front of us is beautiful. “I forgot how pretty the sunset was from here,” Harper says, catching her breath. Leaning forward, she folds her arms on the metal bar and puts her chin on her wrists. “We probably had no clue how pretty it was back then,” she amends.
“It’s always been this beautiful,” I say, speaking to the side of her face.
