When He Talks

"I'll be going." Connie stood up abruptly when Carmine barged through the door. He looked happy and proud so I felt safe to say he must've felt overall productive today, but the tiredness in his eyes made its own imprint that I could almost brush his happiness aside.

His mother glanced at him, and when back at me, winked as she got up. She intended for me to remember everything she's told me, and somehow, whatever spell she had behind those eyes of hers, it worked. Everything was coming back like she just said it to me, and that it was a fresh topic that barely ended.

Carmine saw that wink, and for a moment he looked disturbed to know that his mother and the random girl living in his house had a secret that he didn't know about, but he didn't push it. He didn't say anything about it, or ask what it could be. "So soon? I just got back. You came here solely for the Alaska chick and not for me? Ow, that hurts." He exaggeratively clutched the cloth of his shirt over his heart.

"You're right." She stuck out her tongue to mock him. "Is there a problem with that?"

"yOuRe riGhT. iS tHeRe a pRobLem wItH thAT? Yes, maybe because I'm your son?" Carmine slurred her words right back at her like some sort of weapon of defense, but if it were made of styrofoam. They both laughed harder than I've seen out of Carmine since the mall incident. They weren't putting jokes aside. Not right now.

Man, are they adorable. I wish I had a bond like that with someone. I wish my mom was still alive.

"Alright, Ma. Get home safe." He said his goodbyes when their laughter gradually came to a stop, and she said hers. From then, he watched her from his door until he was certain she got into her car and that it was functioning fine. Only then did he let himself collapse on the couch.

"How was today? Were the scenes difficult?" I asked. The little things, is what Connie wanted me to focus on, but how exactly was I supposed to go about it? - I chose a casual strategy. It's never been abnormal to ask someone how their day was, right? That didn't mean I had faith that it would work, but I had to start somewhere. Square one is where we're at in this mini mission he didn't know about.

"It was alright. I feel like I had to cry 900 times though. That JV Kim character is weak." He could go on about it forever by the tone of his voice, and with as husky as it was getting as the night got to him, I could listen forever too, whether he kids around, complains, or radiantly grins. I felt bad at the same time. I knew he was tired, but the soothing sound of his voice tickled my ears and I loved it.

I loved it and it's owner even more whether he knew that or not. I couldn't get myself out of such an addiction. Not yet. It was self-centered, but I wanted to listen a little while longer. I had to, or else I would die. I swear. A couple moments more and I'll be satisfied.

Even five minutes. Give me five more minutes with him until sleep has to take over and we wouldn't lay glances on each other until morning.

"What do you think about during your crying scenes? What's on your mind that makes tears fall down your face?" I sat down on the floor near the couch he laid in. He didn't seem to mind my sudden closeness and I was surprised at my own bravery to come this near. With my head leaned against the cushion, on the end he placed his feet, I asked questions just so he would talk to me, and pass over my simple desire.

"I could ask you the same thing." He replied. His head boosted up to a position that put him between a sitting and laying stance, but he fell back into laying once he got one look at my face.

"What?"

"I saw you cry when we practiced lines together. What was on your mind?" I could feel my pulse in my temples, my wrists, my neck, - and it was rapid I could barely count them when he mentioned that. I didn't realize that he cared to remember anything having to do with me, even if it wasn't significantly long ago, and if he did, I would've never expected him to say so.

Usually it'd drive me nuts when someone would turn my questions back on me, but this, for the first time I could recall, didn't make me fume. He wanted to know about me, and I could never complain about that.

I debated to answer his question in detail, or to skim the surface of it. "Well, the line just made me remember something. If it was anything else, I wouldn't have cried." I started. I was still thinking about leaving it at that, but with the look on his face, though not on me, but on the ceiling, he somehow seemed interested on where I was gonna take it. So I did go in detail. I wouldn't know if I'd regret it unless I tried. I had to try, and it's not impossible that me opening up would make him open up too.

Even if it's slim, it's not impossible.

"It was about the moon, right? That line; it talked about what the moon symboled for that character and how it could change if the person who inspired it changed, or disappeared." I steadied my breathing that was already wobbling about. Carmine nodded until I could get the words out, waiting patiently but eagerly.

"On some nights from the cramped place we were seeking shelter, the moonlight would shine just right so we can see it through this little dent in I guess what would be our roof. Every time it did, my mom would say the same thing, and it became so common that I'd repeat it in a monotone, as if I was fed up with it, and if I'm telling the truth, I was super fed up with it. I was fed up with it until that day I read the line, when it's true meaning hit me." I blinked way more than the normal, and he straightened up his back against the arm rest for support, to show that he was listening. I knew he was, he didn't need to do that, but the gesture was thoughtful.

I continued. "My mom would say, 'Riz, always remember that people can never be as loyal as the moon is. It shines in the darkness every night that people don't even think about it. They just know it'll come back. But there's two kinds of people. One that tries to be as loyal as it's able to, and one that doesn't try at all. Know that we tried until the very end, and know that in your life, whatever happens to you, that's the only kind of people you deserve. The ones that can't be the moon, but try to be."

I pushed myself off of the cushion to formalize my posture. Carmine had and I felt the need to. "I was barely born when she started to say this to me. It was beyond my head, and by time I was nine I didn't care to know what it meant because I heard it too much. But I realized in that line as Joan, that my parents left every single day to provide for me, knowing that it could very well possibly be their last. When they died, I breathed everyday doubting my worth, and I still do, but all along they were hoping I didn't. It's too late now, I can't get out of that mindset and they tried to warn me."

He was silent. I didn't have anything to add besides that, and after talking for more than I usually ever, I didn't know what to do with myself. Awkwardly, I stretched my feet out in front of me and leaned my back against the base of the couch so I wouldn't have to look at him. "So crying in a line was a once in a lifetime kind of thing that you happened to be able to see. I'm not really talented in the acting field, and it's probably easy for you to cry if you needed to. On demand, just because. You always do so well in those scenes."

"That's not necessarily true. I think you are worthy and talented in the acting field to be honest, and the strategy you coincidentally used is one of many that actors use too, including myself. You deserve a future as an actress if you wanted it." He said it as he got up from his spot to sit with his back against the base of the couch like I was. Opening up seemed to lead him to want to open up to. Maybe he wanted me to know I wasn't alone and he was willing to make his words meaningful once. Maybe somewhere in him he did care, even if it was as thin as a strand of hair.

"During the painful scripts, I always think back to when I was growing up. When I'd go to the grocery store as a child and see kids my age, or when my classmates were getting picked up by their parents in elementary school, they would be holding hands with their mom on their left and their dad on their right, and I only had my mom's hand to hold." He turned to look at me briefly, but I managed to notice it. "Not that it wasn't enough. With all her effort, I was glad to have her. She's played the role of two people and I've always been thankful, but I knew she was sad, and I thought my father had fault in that because she didn't like to talk about it. When we'd celebrate something like good grades, soccer championships and graduations, and she asked what I wanted, I couldn't say anything because all I wanted was for her to be happy and I couldn't bring him back for her."

He paused, being cautious about how he said his next phrase. His hands ran through his hair unknotting a couple of clusters that formed as the words would hit the back of his lips. It's a deep breath that motivated them to make their way out. "That's why being an actor is hard sometimes. It is really a passion of mine. I love doing it, but to get through some parts, you have to remember things that you wouldn't have wanted to remember. It makes it harder to heal." He licked his lips that were going dry. "But I do think it's worth it. It's worth it knowing that people that need their escape from reality can get one when they watch you. Knowing that you're helping someone helps yourself too. Still, if that's ever too much I do find it important I put myself first."

Carmine dragged his back where it was relying for support down to the carpet until his whole body was stretched out across it. Goodness, he's back at it again showing his perfect proportions and he's not even trying. Argh!

He rubbed his face tiredly and I started to realize that I was forcing him awake for much too long. Sleep was overdue. "Carmine, you're tired. You should've told me, so you could've already been sleeping by now."

"No. It's okay. I'm used to it." He said, and he lied, but Connie wasn't wrong. When he lied, you could see right through him. He didn't know how to do it if you paid attention. I already know he's an early bird - such an early bird that a night owl isn't only the other side of the world, but an entirely different planet. I've seen that with my own eyes.

"No you're not."

"Yes, really. I am. I'm perfectly fine, Iowa." He insisted, and that's when I started to see what his mom was talking about. He is a man of amazingly meaningful actions, more than I did already notice. Even though what he said today was deep and personal, the efforts he was making were much stronger than what he verbally shared. After a long day, he talked to me. He talked to me on a level that was unlike him, freely and without holding back. His sleepiness might've caused that, but there wasn't anger with it, which is possible to happen.

Connie most definitely knows her son. I believe her, and I'll wait however long it takes until he's ready to burst of that feeling he's hiding and admit it.

It must be there. Somewhere.

Somewhere within him, and somehow, Carmine loves me back. I hope soon enough he'll tell me what he sees that made him do so.

Someone as mesmerizing as him.

Because I'm not so sure I love myself and he might be the last hope to teach me how to.