14
Elias
8:24 p.m.
As they walked to The Dive, the barbecue restaurant Dakarai had selected, Elias tried to hold in a sneeze but easily lost the battle. A dull pain spread over his face.
“You good?” Dakarai asked.
“It’s just allergies. The trees down here nut all over the place,” Elias replied, glaring at the greenery around him, meticulously maintained and even shaped into pieces of art. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose to relieve the pressure, to no avail.
Dakarai eyed him suspiciously, and Elias yanked his hat down to obscure his face.
The two rounded a corner, and there, against the graying night sky, was an odd sight—the silhouette of a large acorn. As they approached, the size of the steel-and-copper art piece, its cap green with patina, became apparent. The acorn stood out against the backdrop of the corporate plaza surrounded by sleek glass buildings.
“What in theIce Ageis this?” Elias asked, glad there was something to take the attention off him.
“In New York, you have a giant crystal ball. Here, we have this,”Dakarai replied, motioning proudly to the ridiculous thing. “We drop it at midnight on New Year’s.”
“What does an acorn have to do with Raleigh?”
“What’s a shiny ball got to do with New York?”
Elias shrugged, and the two fell into silence again.
When they reached the restaurant a few blocks down, Dakarai held open the door and motioned Elias through with a slight bow of his head. Perhaps it was all that sweet tea they drank down South, but Dakarai had a gentle way about him, with a heart so tender it practically fell off the bone. And since Dakarai had chosen the place, that would likely be the only thing falling off the bone. Especially because, out of guilt over his actions, or perhaps sheer curiosity, Elias let Dakarai order for him, a challenge Dakarai accepted with relish. When the server came, Dakarai pointed out items on the menu without speaking so Elias would be surprised when his meal showed up.
The two were seated across from each other at a table tucked away in a corner near the kitchen. Every time the doors swung open and flapped back and forth, carrying a rush of noise from people talking and plates clanking, Elias grimaced. He was uneasy as they waited for their meals. The small table forced him and Dakarai close despite their efforts to scoot back as far as possible without joining their neighbors for dinner. In between glances at himself in the silverware, his forward-facing camera, and the windows, Elias dabbed at his nose with a tissue. His allergies were, in fact, bothering him—that wasn’t a lie—but it also felt like he’d been punched in the face all over again.
“I feel like our food is taking a long time,” Elias complained when he noticed Dakarai looking at him.
“Just take a breath,” Dakarai chided. “It’s been, like, two minutes.”
Elias folded his arms and pouted. Shifting in his seat, he tore his straw wrapper into tiny pieces. When he couldn’t make themany smaller, he began reading the menu repeatedly, as if the contents would somehow change. Meanwhile, Dakarai stared out the window, his gaze tracking each passing car. Elias knew he should apologize or at least be better company, seeing as he’d asked Dakarai to stay with him, but he didn’t know what to say. They’d spent the entire day together so far, but they’d yet to have a real conversation, and what little they had revealed to each other made it clear they had few things in common.
Elias cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak, not entirely sure what would come out. “So, um, what are your hobbies?” he asked. He mentally slapped himself for asking the most boring question possible.
Dakarai kept his gaze fixed outside as he replied, “I don’t really have any other than comics and art. I draw and paint.”
“What kind of stuff do you draw…and paint?”
“Um…I make webcomics sometimes, and I like to do portraits, mostly, which you know…” Dakarai’s voice trailed off as uncertainty filled his words. “Did you like the portrait I gave you?” he asked in a low tone.
Elias’s ears became hot as he remembered the way he’d tried so desperately to snatch the portrait away from Dakarai earlier. “I loved it, but,” he said, noting how nervous thebutmade Dakarai, “that isn’t the first you’ve done of me, is it?”
Dakarai couldn’t hide his shock. “I—” he began but stopped when the server came to fill their water glasses. Elias was sure Dakarai understood his meaning, yet he chose not to interrogate it further, even after the server had gone. This was confirmation enough that it was Dakarai’s drawing he’d found in the trash five years ago.
“What made you draw me?” Elias pressed.
Dakarai rubbed the back of his neck as he often did. “It’s kind ofhard to explain,” he said with a nervous laugh. “I draw everyone.”
“Oh…”
Then Dakarai hastily added, “But only people I want to know better. Because people usually show you one face and hide another, and I try to capture the one that’s underneath.”
“Oh.”
Elias considered asking Dakarai which face he’d seen—after all, he’d drawn it twice—but he was afraid of the answer. Art could be about creating something beautiful. Of course, it was also true that the things we hate or fear could be muses. Elias had to remind himself that Dakarai never actually delivered the first drawing. It had been trashed. Perhaps he didn’t like what he’d seen.
