"Hmm…"
As always, I had arrived early to class. The place was pretty quiet when no one else was around, too quiet. Still, my voice usually filled the silence thanks to the (mostly one-sided) conversations I had with Aisha. But something was different that day: Aisha hadn't arrived yet.
"Did something happen to her?"
Aisha and I were always the first to get there. She arrived early because she had no distractions, and I arrived early so I could talk to her. The only reasons I could think of for her absence were that she was either sick or had overslept.
And before you ask, no, it wasn't a day off or something I just hadn't realized. I always pay attention to things like that.
TAP TAP TAP
"Aisha?"
I stared at the door, but all I saw were several students entering, and of course, Aisha wasn't among them.
"Maybe she's sick…"
What scared me most about that possibility was that I couldn't picture Aisha taking proper care of herself. The best scenario would be that someone was forcing her to rest and take medicine. The worst scenario was that she didn't give it any importance and it only got worse. Honestly, I had no idea how she handled being sick.
"...I better call her."
Before dialing, I carefully thought about what to say so I wouldn't sound too lonely... Yeah, it did feel kind of lonely without Aisha around, but I didn't want it to be that obvious. After deciding on what to say, I went to my contacts list and selected her number.
"Please pick up…""Hello?""Aisha? Are you okay?""Yeah. Why do you ask?""You usually arrive before everyone else.""I ran into a few complications, but I'm almost there.""Where are you?""Look out the window. You should be able to see me.""Give me a second."
I turned to look outside. The place was really big, and not ideal when trying to spot someone. A few people were chatting with friends, some couples being affectionate, a guy talking with a girl… No matter where I looked, I couldn't see Aisha. Normally, she'd be walking alone, but I couldn't spot anyone who looked like her and wasn't with someone.
"I don't see you.""That's odd…""Try raising your arm.""Sure."
I looked again, expecting to find someone raising an arm, but the only person doing so was a guy clearly chatting with someone else.
"Still don't see you.""Maybe you're looking out the wrong window.""Are you done yet?"
I was surprised to hear another girl's voice on the line. My phone wasn't the best, so her voice sounded odd, but that wasn't the weirdest part.
"Are you with someone?""Yeah, a girl girl stopped me.""You could've started with that. What does she look like?""Is blonde, and tall""That should be enough."
One last time, I looked outside to try and find Aisha, and I spotted a blonde girl talking with someone… but something didn't feel right.
"Aisha…""Yes?""I might be mistaking someone else, but… are you wearing the boys' uniform?""Yeah.""..."
I was confused, but I knew my priorities. Without hesitation, I got up from my seat and quickly left the classroom, heading to the entrance. When I arrived, it was easy to spot Aisha… but that just made me notice even more strange things.
Aside from wearing the boys' uniform, her hair was slicked back except for a strand near one eye. The weirdest thing was her left hand. One of her fingers was black, almost like she had dipped it in paint. I wanted to ask so many questions, but first I had to get her out of there. I walked up to her, quickly grabbed her hand, and started dragging her away.
"Sorry, she's busy. She doesn't want to be bothered.""Hey!"
Ignoring the girl who protested, I pulled Aisha along by her (very cold) hands. At least that confirmed it was really her.
"Oh my god…""...""So, you're cross-dressing.""Yes.""...""...""You're not going to explain why?""You said it looked good on me.""...Was this what you wanted to try?""Yes.""...I have too many questions…"
When we returned to class, a few people stared at us. Everyone was used to seeing me with Aisha, so it made sense they found it odd I was suddenly dragging a boy they'd never seen. Hopefully, this would be the strangest thing people ever saw from me.
Once we reached our seats, I turned Aisha's chair so she was facing me. She understood immediately and sat down.
"Alright, let's begin the interrogation.""What are the questions?""I ask the questions here.""...""Sorry, I've always wanted to say that. Anyway, where did you get that uniform?""A friend of my dad has a son who graduated from here. I asked if I could borrow it.""Your dad let you do this?""Yes, he said he respected my choices.""...I wonder what he thinks of you…"
I didn't know what Aisha's dad looked like, but I could imagine his face when she asked to wear that uniform. Honestly, it was kind of funny to picture.
"And the hairstyle?""My dad suggested it, to experiment.""I admit, it looks good. But you're hard to recognize from certain angles…""Should I move my hair a bit?""...Better not. Like I said, it looks good."
It made me a bit sad to ruin that hairstyle, especially knowing her dad helped her with it. If I had a daughter like Aisha, I wouldn't want her first bold choice ruined. Maybe I'm overthinking it, but I'd rather play it safe and leave her be.
"And why is your finger black?""I tried painting my nails but didn't measure the polish properly…""And you couldn't clean it off?""I was already running late because of the uniform. If I tried cleaning it, I'd be even later…""I'll paint your nails myself when I get the chance.""Thanks…"
"So… what happened out there?""That girl stopped me… what was it for again…?""You weren't paying attention?""I just thought I'd be late… though…""Hmm?""She gave me this."
Aisha pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to me. I opened it and saw a hastily written phone number.
"...""What is it?""I don't know whether to be jealous at how easily you get this kind of thing or feel sorry for the poor soul who found you attractive."
The idea of Aisha in a romantic relationship felt kind of sad… Could you even call it "romantic" if it was so one-sided?
"If someone ever want a date, at least think it over before saying yes.""Okay…""By the way, are you even allowed to wear that uniform?""The rule says that as long as the student is wearing the uniform, their appearance won't be discriminated against as long as it doesn't harm their physical or mental health.""If it's not against the rules, then I guess that's that…"
At that moment, I decided to drop the topic. If Aisha wanted to look like that, there was nothing more to say. If it wasn't comfortable, she'd wear her usual clothes tomorrow. I liked knowing she had (a little) initiative to wear that outfit, so I had no negative opinion. The matter was settled… but Aisha seemed to want to say something.
"...So…""Yes?""...Do you like it?""...Huh?"
For a second, I thought I'd misheard or someone else had spoken. But when I saw Aisha's mouth moving, I knew I hadn't imagined it.
"Do you like it?""Your look? It suits you.""That's not what I asked."
Aisha didn't have a strong voice, so I noticed right away that she'd raised her tone a little when she said that.
"I didn't ask if it suited me. I want to know what you think.""What's the point of the question?""...I just want your opinion, not something objective…""My opinion…"
The answer was simple: she looked pretty, I liked how it suited her, and I'd love to see her wear that kind of outfit more often. It wasn't hard to say—but when I tried…
"...""Lusia?""...You look nice…"
I don't know why, but something stopped me. I wanted to say I liked how she looked, but I couldn't. I've told her before when something suited her, so why was it so hard now?
"...""Lusia…""You look nice…""You already said that.""You look… nice… that's all…""Lusia, if you don't want to answer—""I don't think anything else… just… you look nice…"
The idea of giving my opinion on her appearance didn't feel right. I felt dizzy—I didn't know why, but the feeling wouldn't stop. I tried to tell her she looked good, but all it did was remind me of something, a voice that I didn't want to remember.
"Get away from me."
I knew what was happening. I was very aware of why I felt this way, more than I'd like to admit. I wanted to pretend I was fine, but that word echoed in my head over and over again. In that moment, I just wanted to go home and never come back. And to think I believed things had gotten better...
Even if I wanted to, I couldn't escape that feeling. It was something I'd have to endure the whole day. My aunt was going to be terribly worried when I got home… Or at least, that's how things should've gone. But then something touched my hand. I don't know why, but when I felt that touch, the noise in my mind suddenly calmed down.
"Huh?""Lusia, here."
Looking down at my hand, I saw a small bottle of blue nail polish. I didn't understand what it meant at first, but it became clear when Aisha offered me her left hand.
"You said you'd help me paint my nails when you had the chance.""But…""It dries quickly. Just do it.""..."
It felt a little strange for Aisha to give me an order, but I didn't question her. I just opened the bottle and started painting.
"...""You're good at this…""Thanks… I've practiced a lot.""I don't see you with painted nails very often.""I'm not great at taking care of them. I only paint them sometimes…""You'd smell better if you did.""What are you suggesting?""That nail polish smells nice."
Aisha's voice was oddly comforting, like someone with a lot of experience was talking to me. And painting her nails was calming. She didn't move much, and though her hands were cold, they were soft. The more I painted, the quieter the world around us felt. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, on the contrary, it was relaxing. In that moment, only Aisha's voice and mine seemed to matter.
"...I'm almost done with this hand.""Are you feeling okay?""Why do you ask?""I don't know. I just felt like I should.""...I don't feel worse.""That's good.""I'm surprised you can talk in that tone.""I'm imitating my dad. I used to spy on him a lot when I was little.""Really?""Imitating isn't hard when you're copying someone you've seen your whole life.""I didn't know you had that talent.""I wouldn't call it a talent…""No need to be modest.""I'm just telling the truth…""...""...""...What made you want to do this?"
Part of me wanted to avoid the question, but it slipped out, almost like a reflex. Of course, Aisha didn't take long to respond.
"I felt like you'd want to use your hands for something healthier.""What do you mean?""Your nails were very close to your other hand.""...""I know I don't understand how you feel, but I knew what you were about to do.""...Am I that easy to read?""I'm not going to dig into it. I'm not going to ask anything or push you in any way. Just finish painting, and let's let the day go on naturally…""...Aisha?""Yes?""...Thank you…""Thanks for painting my nails.""Hehe, too bad I can't do anything about your black finger."
When I finished her other hand, I admired how well I'd done. That sense of pride helped a lot. I felt alive again, and seeing Aisha's usual blank expression only made me feel better. I still felt hurt, I doubted I'd feel truly okay for a while. But at least I wasn't feeling worse.
"Do you like them?""They smell nice…""I guess looks don't matter much to you.""Do I look weird?""I admit I haven't seen many boys with painted nails, but it doesn't look bad—even with that outfit.""I see…"
Aisha stared intently at her own hands, almost like she hadn't just been helped a minute ago. No doubt about it—when something catches her interest, she gets a little weird. But I like that about her.
"Hmm…""Hmm?"
When Aisha's eyes widened a bit, I could tell she was thinking about something. Maybe she wanted to try another color? If so, I'd have to politely decline. However, what she said next wasn't what I expected at all.
"What if…""Are you thinking something weird?""Just wondering… what if you had a bit more time to paint my nails?""You mean during break? That's not going to help.""Not that. I bought some nail polish remover the other day. With some effort and hot water, I could clean off my finger and that nail. We could even try more colors.""You just want to smell the rest, don't you?""Maybe…""Well, are you bringing it during break?""I don't have it.""Huh?""It's at my house.""You forgot it? Then maybe tomorrow—""I'll let my dad know you're visiting. He'll have something ready for us to drink.""...Eh?"
It was clear this was an invitation. I wasn't planning to refuse—in fact, I kind of owed her for stopping me from hurting myself. But what a strange way to invite someone…
And so, in the same weird way as everything in our relationship, I was invited to her house.