Free Worlds Apart by Luke Loaghan

York. Christine revealed her real name was Izanami.
    After work, we went to a Japanese restaurant in the World Trade Center. Christine ordered sushi for both of us. I had never had sushi before. She couldn’t stop smiling as I tried to get used to the chopsticks. Christine said that in California everyone was eating sushi. I reminded her that we were in New York, where everyone eats bagels and pizza.
    We walked onto the plaza of the Twin Towers, and sat under the two-story monumental bronze sculpture of a sphere. Below the sculpture was a fountain.
    “Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked.
    “No.”
    “Are you a virgin?” I did not know how to answer the question, but before I could, she said, “Never mind, I already know the answer.”
    “How could you possibly know the answer?” I asked.
    “Boys who are not virgins don’t hesitate to answer that question.”
    “Do you know what the word tact means?” I asked, feeling embarrassed. “I’ll be honest with you. I really don’t know if I’m ready for a girlfriend or sex. I’m probably going to go away to college and I really don’t know if I want to start something that leads to a long term relationship,” I said.
    “Don’t assume I want to be your girlfriend, and don’t assume I want to have sex with you either.” She punched my arm, laughing out loud.
    “Don’t assume I was talking about you,” I said. She punched me on the arm much harder this time.
    “I’m always direct. I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t understand the need for small talk or for talking around a subject. If I want to know something I’ll just ask,” she said.
    “Do you ever think that being too direct could be a problem?” I asked with sarcasm.
    “Yes, I do. But I don’t understand why Americans consider it polite not to ask what they want to know, but rather tiptoe around the topic.”
    “Small talk is an art form,” I said.
    “Small talk is a waste of time. What about your family?” she asked.
    “It’s just me, my father, and my brother,” I said.
    “What about your mother?” she asked.
    “My mother died when I was eleven. She was very sick from cancer,” I said.
    Christine grew quiet. “I am sorry,” she said.
    “Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault.”
    I had a good time with Christine. It was nice to have a female friend.
    The long, empty subway ride home allowed opportunity for me to think about Christine. She was so different from Delancey, so much easier to be around. Delancey was one of a kind, but was in a different realm.
     
     

Chapter 5
    On Monday it was nearly six o’clock when I finished writing articles for the school paper. As I exited the lobby of Stanton, Delancey was leaving school.
    “What are you doing here?” I asked.
    “I could ask you the same thing,” she said.
    “You first.”
    “Why should I answer first?”
    “Because I asked you first,” I said.
    “So what, I asked you second.”
    “I plead the fifth,” I said.
    “Well then so do I. If you won’t answer, neither will I,” she grinned.
    “In that case, we should change the subject. Are you heading home?” I asked.
    “I’m going to the city to meet my father for dinner at a steakhouse near Wall Street.”
    “What a strange coincidence, I’m also heading to that very same steakhouse.”
    “You LIE!” she shouted. We both guffawed.
    She punched my arm, and I said, “Is that the best you got?”
    She then punched me even harder, and I felt a stinging pain all the way through to my chest.
    “Ouch!” I yelled.
    “Oh, David, I’m so sorry.” She rubbed my shoulder.
    “You are much stronger than you look,” I said.
    “I’m more than I look in many ways,” she replied.
    “Keep rubbing, it feels good,” I said sheepishly.
    “I BET IT DOES!” she said as she punched my arm again.
    “So are you going to ride the train with me to downtown?” she asked.
    “I’ll do one better. I will even escort you to the restaurant, Madame.”
    Delancey held out