In This Life by Christine Brae Page B

have to.”
    He leaned the weight of his body on his arms and stretched out his legs. The bottom of his jeans were perfectly frayed and torn. His feet looked so fine, his toes long and slender.
    “So how do you know Chiayo?” I asked, once again impressed by the many friends he had in the village.
    “I stayed with their family when—” He caught himself. “Nothing.”
    “What?” I insisted. “Tell me.”
    His tone turned softer as he avoided my eyes. “Chiayo is Lao’s cousin. Lao’s mom was really sick. I sat with them throughout her final nights. I also helped to build their new house by the river.”
    “Is that why you’re here? To help people? Are you here to help people or to find yourself?” I asked, trying not to sound too emphatic about what I thought he was going to say.
    “Both, I guess. Anna, the world is neither black nor white. I find myself when I help people as much as I do when I hurt the people I love. I’m trying to learn about what’s important and to give as much of myself as I can. But sometimes, I can’t help but wonder what’s really out there for me.” His eyes bore into mine, and for the first time since I’d met him, I was sure that I was falling for him. He was selfless and giving. He wanted to make a difference in the world like I did.
    Jude spoke with certainty, never failing to make me see things from both points of view. His words made me realize that my mother had to hurt us to find herself. And there was nothing really wrong about wanting what she deserved. There was nothing really wrong about wanting to be happy.The problem was that sometimes our happiness was at someone else’s detriment. We were burglars in the night, stealing someone else’s laughter for our own and replacing it with tears.
    “Listen, Blue, can we be friends, hang out together, and just go back to normal?”
    “Believe it or not, I really can’t afford any more complications in my life right now. So, of course we can be friends. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I smiled with genuine affinity. My affection for him was rising to the surface.
    “Good,” he said. “Thank you.”
    I turned my head in the direction of the wooden chest. It was ornate but worn, with ivory carvings running down its sides.
    “What’s in here?” I asked. I got on my knees and slowly lifted its lid. Inside were bits and pieces of the life of the family that lived here—broken toys, a rusty makeup mirror, damaged pictures, tiny baby clothes. I fished in between the clothes and pulled out a funny looking contraption. “What is this?” I asked, holding it up for him to see. “Oh, a cassette player! Of course! We had one of these when I was growing up.”
    The beauty of this place had to do with the way time seemed to stand still. Old memories mixed with new ones, the love of a family lost and found in the companionship of two strangers.
    “Yeah. It even has a tape inside of it,” he said. “I’ve played it a few times, actually. I just changed the batteries the other day.”
    I placed it in the middle of the floor. He slid himself behind me and pulled me close against his chest.
    “Let’s hear it,” I said, taking his hand and pushing it down on the PLAY button. Music started to fill the room. We swung our heads and swayed to the music, waiting for the chorus, and then belted out at the top of our lungs:
     
    You’ve got to believe in magic
    Something stronger than the moon above
    ‘Cause it’s magic when two people fall in love
     
    “You know this song?” he asked, his eyes wide with surprise. “Were you even born yet?”
    “ Zapped! Scott Baio! My older cousins used to watch it over and over again when I was a kid!” I laughed. “And listen to you, Mr. Two Years Older than Me.”
    “Well then,” he whispered as he stood up and offered me his hand.
    I took his lead as he pulled me into his arms, and slowly, so slowly, we moved together to the words of the song. My head was buried in his