May 2085: crazy for you, part 4

Natty and Charlie are 20. 


“Hey, Charlie, are you sleeping?”

“Mmmm, yeah. Is it time yet?”

“No, not yet. Do you want me to quiz you some more?”

“No, I think I got it. Are you bored? Do you wanna go?”

Spring was coming to an end and the sun was strong and bright again. “No, let's stay. We need some Vitamin D. It'll make us feel happier.”

“You aren't happy?”

“I didn't mean that,” she said. “I'm fine.”



He stretched out his arms and she rolled her head onto his shoulder. Fine wasn't quite accurate. She'd worried that he was sad, that he might be depressed, but as the semester went on, she realized that maybe it was her. Depressed was such a large word though; it wasn't that. Confused? Scared? Unhinged? Unfulfilled? Unsettled?

If she'd worried that she hadn't had enough firsts that were just her own, well then she just bombed her Tax Culture exam. There was a first. She'd never flunked anything in her life before. She didn't even need it to be graded to know she failed—she hadn't even answered half of the questions. She didn't want to think about it now. She didn't want to worry Charlie with it before he had his own final exam to take. She didn't want to be upset before Sophia's concert tonight, which she'd really been looking forward to. Natty had never been to a symphony before, not even in high school to see her cousins play.

She knew Charlie couldn't come out this time before she even bothered to beg him, though he might have actually wanted to go this time. He always liked classical music. She remembered how his parents would play it when they were hanging out at his house, twelve years-old, still kids really. They would do their silly bows and curtsies, like they were about to take off on some elegant ballroom dance, but neither of them knew how to dance in the least, so they would spin each other around instead, then chase each other through the house, falling into a pile somewhere, laughing and tickling and whispering their secrets and promises and dreams.


“And I just remembered how you'd stand outside my house with me until my dad came home so you could see his helicopter. Didn’t you know you could have just seen it from your own front yard anyway?”

“That helicopter was sweet. But I wasn’t there for the helicopter.” He leaned over to kiss her nose.

She laughed. “Right, you were there to talk to my dad.”

“Ha, your dad was pretty cool too.”

“I always thought you'd grow up to build helicopters or something.”

“Really?” He sat up half way, his eyes full of surprise and wonder.

“Sure. You were always picking at things like that, taking stuff apart, putting it back together. Seems logical, doesn't it?”

“I guess it does.”


With renewed purpose, he sat up and curled himself around her. She could almost hear him thinking, his head full of new ideas, a busy silence. Then he laughed to himself. “Would you still love me if I didn’t want to be a marine biologist?”

“Of course, Charlie. Don't be silly. What do you want to be?”

“I don't really know. I’m jealous that you always knew.”

Maybe she’d known that she would be a pediatrician since she was a kid herself, but that didn’t mean she felt any more sure about her future than he did. “I don't think anybody really knows.” She giggled lightly. “Would you still love me if I cut all my hair off?”

“All of it? Like a mohawk?”

“Not like that. But I’ve had such long hair for such a long time. Have I ever had short hair?”

“I’d still love you if you had a mohawk. That might be hot.” He got quiet. “Would you still love me if...”

“If what?”

“I don’t know. Nothing. Come on, I’ll push you on the swings.”


He took her hips in his hands and pushed.

“I know you're looking up my skirt,” she said.

“You better believe it.”

“Push me higher.”

And he did.


She was flying. All she could see was sky. Sky and pink clouds and birds. He pushed her until his arms hurt, then he stopped and let her keep going. He leaned against the poles and watched her.


“I can't believe you still want to look up my skirt.”

“Who wouldn't want to look up your skirt?”

“Hey, I have an idea. Do you have any soap?”

“Who carries soap around?”

She sighed. “We used to, sometimes.”


“Why did we ever stop putting soap suds in the water fountains?”

“I guess we grew up,” he said.

“Did we?”

“Ha, maybe a little. We had to, right?”

Would you still love me if...? He had to take an exam in thirty minutes. The questions she had to ask were too big and complicated and scary to spring on him right now.


So instead they watched the sky turn shades of bubble gum and orange dreamsicles. The warmth of his body next to hers was something she knew she’d taken for granted. How could she not? He’d been her automatic sidekick for eight years, nearly half of her whole life. She had taken him for granted. When did that start? Because she knew at one point, as a girl, as a young woman, she'd known for certain he was everything she ever needed and she didn't know when that had started to become a question.

Charlie whispered, “Would you still love me if I mess everything up and have to start all over again?”

There was so much fear in his voice, it hit her in the heart. “Oh, Charlie. You could never mess anything up that badly.”

Not as badly as she could.


She hugged him fiercely, which he didn't seem quite prepared for but accepted anyway. He didn't ask any more questions, and neither did she. She just breathed into his shoulder and he rubbed his hands over her back. She hadn't noticed when it got dark—had they been holding each other that long or had the sky turned that fast?


“I think it's time now,” he whispered to her.

She didn't want to let go, but she had to. At least for a little while.

“Good luck on your exam,” she told him. “You're gonna do great.”

“Have fun at the concert. Tell me all about it when you get home.”

“I will,” she said.

———