Annie

She was sitting on the bench a little ways off the lazy footpath that meandered its lonely way around the quiet lake. From far away, she could have been anyone—but he watched a little longer and every once in a while, her head would dip down, and she would write something in the notebook on her lap. And then she would look out over the lake again, her blank and yet thoughtful look back on her face. It could only be her.

After a quick moment of indecision and hesitation, he walked over to the bench.

“Annie Zhang.”

She turned slowly, a lazy smile now on her face, almost as if she had been expecting him. “Colin.” She ran a hand absentmindedly through her black hair. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

He stopped as if to feel the sun on his face and the texture of the light breeze brush by before he answered. “Yeah, it’s real nice.” He closed his eyes for a moment and bathed a bit longer in comfort. Slowly, he sat down next to her. “What brings you out here today?”

“Oh,” she flipped her notebook shut, “nothing much. My brother’s playing in the game.”
He gestured vaguely towards the pavilion across the water and the fields beyond. If he tried hard enough, he thought he could see the young players battling away in the distance. “I didn’t know Asian kids could play soccer.”

“Oh, shut up, Colin,” and she swung her notebook at him lightly and—perhaps he was feeling too lazy to move—it hit him softly on the shoulder. Both of them laughed, but it didn’t last long; neither felt like sustaining it any longer. It was one of those lethargic temperatures.

He closed his eyes again. It was incredibly comfortable-feeling there on the bench, but he knew he didn’t really want to fall asleep, although his body was just begging for it. Finally, he shook his head groggily and forced himself to sit up.

Annie seemed to be staring dreamily off into space again. Her eyes were fixed on the far pavilion, but somehow, he could tell they really weren’t. She would be perfectly still, and then, as if upon some sort of signal, she’d suddenly jerk and move to write something into her notebook, sometimes having to flip almost excitedly through the pages to find the right place since she’d closed it after her last entry.

Her small fingers handled her pen dexterously, and they would turn out crisp lines of small print on the paper, neat enough for him to tell that it was neat, too small to read from where he was sitting. She seemed to know that as well.

“What are you writing?” he asked finally, yawning involuntarily. He leaned over as if to get a closer look at the words, but she turned slightly away from him and tried to cover her notebook with her hands.

“Stuff.” Her answer was accompanied by the sound of her notebook flipping shut.

“For school?”

She seemed to think for a moment before answering. Her voice came out in a poor effort to sound broken and accented, “What you think we Asians always to writing? It always maths problems!” He laughed, but she sighed. “I can never do it well. I guess I’m just not Asian enough.”

“You were fine!” he continued to laugh.

“No… not really,” she seemed to know the truth. “But yeah…” she sighed again, “I’m not really doing math problems.”

“How un-Asian of you.”

“I know,” she seemed somewhat depressed for a moment, looking at where the waters of the lake gently lapped against the soft grasses of the bank. “I’m just… writing.”

“… you’re writing,” he nodded approvingly. “I would never have guessed.”

“Colin,” she shook her head. “You’re an interesting person when you open up.”

He yawned again. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just, oh…” she seemed to be searching for a word, “you’re so quiet all the time. I rarely hear you talk out like that.”

He scratched his head. “Well, you’re not much of a talker yourself, Annie.”

She stared at her feet. “I know.”

He looked down, wondering if she had perhaps seen something around there. The squat, freshly-trimmed blades of grass stared back at him. His body was starting to feel tired again, and he tried to beat life into it by shaking.

She watched him curiously. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to stay awake,” he answered. He kicked out at the air with a foot.

“Really,” she seemed amused. For a moment, her hand strayed towards the notebook, pausing with one finger under the cover as she seemed to battle with her indecision. Finally, she moved it away again.

He looked her in the eyes and knew guiltily that she was probably realizing that he had watched her the entire time and could guess what she had been planning to do. “Had an idea?”

Her dark eyes blinked, and then she broke contact. “Sort of…”

“Hey, it’s fine if you don’t want to tell me, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, Colin. That just makes me look bad if I don’t tell you now.”

He looked confused. “What do you mean? Look bad to who?”

“Whom.”

“—Look bad to whom?”

She opened her mouth, closed it. Opened it again. “I don’t know!” shaking her head. “You make me feel bad to myself, then.”

“Sorry.” He wasn’t exactly sure what he should do. “Annie, you’re weird.”

“I know, I know,” she sighed and stared back down at the ground, seemingly fascinated by the questing ants toiling underfoot. “I am weird.”

“What do you mean? I didn’t actually mean it—well, everyone’s weird, in their own ways.”

“But some are weirder than others?” She looked back up.

He paused, unsure. “Err… I don’t know.”

“You’re weird, too, Colin,” she smiled.

“Thanks,” he blinked. “Just what I’ve always wanted to know.”

There was a silence again as both turned to look towards the soccer fields in the distance, the sudden realization that time was passing reaching both. Colin thought he could see the two separate teams forming up in their little huddles on opposite sides of the field. Was the game over already?

“Is it over?” she asked, finally.

“I… I’m not sure, but—yeah—I think so,” he squinted in the sunlight and put up a hand to shade his eyes. “Yeah… I think it’s over.”

“Oh,” her hands tightened their grip around her notebook, and, as if it was a battle at first, she stood up. “I’ll see you around then, Colin.”

“Yeah,” he remained sitting, “I’ll see you on Monday, I suppose.” When he looked up again, she had already gone a little ways down the path back towards the other side. He let out a long sigh, sounding somewhat of disappointment, but also somewhat of relief. After a few more moments, he seemed to gather the strength to get up, and slowly rose out of the bench.

He took one last look at the quickly disappearing figure in the distance before setting off on the opposite way back to the fields.

(Written: 12/24/07; a short character sketch)