Ch. 02: Pieces of Night

"Hey," Casey said as she reached Hassan again near the shed.

"Hey." He smiled warmly, and, lifting a foot, put his cigarette out on the soul of his shoe, throwing it in a rusted mesh trash can against the brick wall of the school.

"Eco-concious... Good," Casey observed slyly, following suit.

"Do you want to go over to the park? As cool as this spot is," Hassan said as he gestured around them mockingly, "I think it might be more fun."

"Sure," Casey replied, wondering briefly, insanely, if she were glowing on the outside the way she was on the inside.

The pair walked along the side of the school. It was a long, narrow building with an open space of grass beyond the shed, and beyond that, a small park with a playground, complete with a steel jungle gym that had once caused Casey to bite her tongue, so hard it bled.

More tall oaks surrounded the place, causing shadowy recesses where small bushes, rarely attended to, stole any remaining light. It felt odd to her to be out at this time of night. Usually she'd just be in her room, with no more than her imagination and her vivid daydreaming ability to keep her company.

Yet, tonight, Hassan walked by her side. Stealing a glance at him, she could hardly believe it. She'd come to feel very strange indeed for having had such an enduring crush on him. She'd known him since she had attended the very same building they had begun to walk away from. She remembered him then, a skinny, energetic kid who became one of the choir's star pupils. The way he sang reminded Casey of the sea, as though she were listening to large waves rise and crash from a distance, their crescendos rippling at the peaks and diving down to deep depths. He was quite talented, and Casey always wondered why he hadn't pursued singing in high school.

They soon reached the park, and sat under the roofed structure there, with its plasticky, rubberized benches that had etched strange circular patterns into many a thigh. The night air was sweet, and crisp. It wasn't cold, but a bit chilly. Casey was glad she'd worn a long-sleeve shirt.

As they sat opposite each other, she was surprised that she didn't feel more awkward or shy. It was as though a gentle understanding had come to the surface, that perhaps neither of them were in their best form and so silences need not be a big deal. She liked that. Often, she felt as though she were being talked at instead of with; it seemed to her that lots of people found her a good person to vent to, to complain to, but whenever she tried to say something, the other person stopped listening. She'd almost given up, but had recently tried to make an effort to listen more and stop caring about her own response, and she'd found that suited her well enough.

The silence went on for a few minutes, and Hassan fell as well, into a comfortable lull, but then the thought occurred to him. "So, I guess you heard that, um, argument, between Mary and I?"

Casey was unsure how to feel or what to do in that moment, but she answered honestly.

"Yeah. We can talk about it if you want, but we also don't have to. I won't tell anyone." She looked at him briefly, finding his face an empty canvas save for those warm eyes she loved so well.

"Thanks. I appreciate that. I don't really want to talk about it. It's not that I don't trust you, I just... Yeah." He swallowed hard, gazing out at the trees and farther beyond to the tennis court on the crest of the hill, largely unused by the surrounding populace.

"No problem. Let's just pretend nothing matters, okay, and let's not be boring. I don't want to do small talk, if that's okay with you." Casey was surprised at her frankness and the decisive tone she took. Being as introspective as she was, though, she realized quickly that she absolutely did not, in fact, want to talk about how her life was 'going,' or her family, or her mother, her brother, her gone-now father. She just wanted something else.

Hassan chuckled lightly. "Fine by me."

A few more moments of silence followed.

Then he continued with, "I love this time of year. You know, it really is beautiful here, in a way. At least here you can see the stars well, and it's not cold anymore. You know, I come here sometimes alone at night. No one else is ever here. Well, rarely they are, but sometimes I just like to be alone." He took a slightly deeper breath than his others, barely perceptible, but Casey noticed.

"I know what that's like. I prefer to be alone." Casey said the words, but whether she really meant them was anyone's guess at that point.

"You always were kind of a loner," Hassan teased, "I don't mean that in a bad way. I think the need to be around others all the time is probably a kind of weakness."

"I guess you're right, but so is the lack of desire for social connection and self-isolation," she replied.

"True." He responded quickly, sitting with his thoughts for a moment before continuing, "Hey, this might be weird but do you want to go down the slide?" He laughed. "I'm going to, whether you do or not. I always do, but you can help me feel like less of a loser by going down too." He smirked at her.

Casey felt electric and warm, like parts of her were liquid. "Well," she said, pausing momentarily for gravity, "If I must."

They made their way over to the cherry-red slide, faded in spots from the sun beating down upon it, and scratched with wear. Hassan climbed the structure, giant-looking in reference.

"Here we go," He smiled back at her as he went down first, whipping himself through the tube and exiting the otherside raucously. "Pretty anti-climactic, huh?" He looked back as he asked.

"Very," Casey said, laughing, "but, still looks fun." She felt unsure of herself as she positioned herself to go down, but, with Hassan standing now farther away and waiting for her to oblige, she went down in much the same way.

"Wee," she said half-heartedly, but grinning widely, though a small thread of self-consciousness seemed to be wrapping its way around her. "Does this mean Trix aren't just for kids, too?" She asked.

"I still eat 'em," Hassan replied, putting his hands in his pockets. "Once more?"

They abandoned the charade of mocking comments and enjoyed themselves as they slid down a couple more times. Casey felt like a kid briefly as she slid down again and again, like the moments passing her by were stolen ones, ones that shouldn't be accessible but suddenly were. She was sitting at the end of it when she felt the first drop on her hand.

"Oh," she said, a little dismayed, "Seems to be starting to rain." She looked at her hand in defiance, and then at the sky, now pitch black, but with obvious cloud-cover; the stars Hassan had spoken of were hard to see.

"Guess we must take shelter," he said quickly, climbing up once more, in that moment reminding Casey of the energetic and overtly enthusiastic person she'd known. He climbed into the covered section at the top of the structure, yellow with rounded bubbles of plastic on the sides, providing the chance to look down below.

Casey didn't hesitate, and followed after him.

It was decidedly small, and the patter of the rain outside made the inner warmth, and the fact that Casey's leg had to be bent awkwardly so as not to touch Hassan's, uniquely intimate for her. She looked at him, and took in his features, his dark hair a bit shaggier than she'd remembered the last time she'd seen him, with a slight shadow on his jaw. Yet, he was still the same, and still made her feel the same, mushy like chewed gum.

She decided to bury any awkwardness as quickly as she could. "That was fun. I can't remember the last time I went down a slide. I remember playing here, or, well, sitting and watching the other kids play here." She laughed, now at an age and a level of self-acceptance that permitted her to do so.

"Yeah. I do this to clear my head. It's weird, maybe, I know, but I sometimes have to be alone with how busy it gets at my house."

Casey couldn't imagine- had no idea of what his home life might be like. Was Mary over all the time, or did he go to hers to escape the 'busy-ness? She didn't care to ask, and she didn't have to, because Hassan continued with an explanation.

"My Daada-- my grandfather," he said, correcting himself quickly so she'd understand, as he had to others so many times before, "And my Uncle live with us. My uncle is constantly getting into trouble and my grandfather requires a lot of care. My mother has friends over a lot and then with my Dad and the bowling alley, and Mary... It can just be a lot."

Casey considered this, and how polar opposite his experience was to hers. Sure, Olly had friends over occasionally, but he was often out playing with them elsewhere, or in school, or at basketball practice, but other than that, it was just her and her Mom, residing in a mostly comfortable silence. Casey felt a deep weight thinking of her Mom, that she must care for her and help to tide the flood from rising too high when she became emotional over her husband's absence.

"Sounds busy. I completely understand why you come here," she said, leaning back gently against the side of the bubble.

"I wish we'd spent more time together in school," Hassan said, looking at Casey. He said it, probably innocuously, she thought, but to her it meant more than just the words.

"You do?" She replied, feeling hot but also icy all over. Little pinpricks of cold night rose goosebumps on her skin, then were warmed by his presence.

He cleared his throat slightly, looking graciously away for a moment. "Yeah, I mean, you're really nice, and smart. I could have used more of that in high school."

He then looked back at her and seemed to take her in. Casey was pretty sure she saw him scan her features, look into her eyes and quickly observe the curvature of her body, but she wasn't certain- the dark provided a convenient excuse for such glimpses, anyway. She hoped her lipstick wasn't smeared or makeup running. She remembered that she'd painted her lips red that day, like the slide they'd just shared.

"Thank you," Casey replied.

"Yeah, of course." He said.

"I always thought you were really great." The words spilled out and Casey cringed internally, waiting for the scene to break and an overhead light to come on in interrogation, illuminating her true nature- that she was maybe nothing more but an imposter looking for shelter from the rain.

"You could've told me that," Hassan laughed, putting his long arms around his knees.

Casey looked quickly at his hands. They looked soft, but a little calloused at the fingers, with large squarish palms. She remembered him in the one theater class she'd taken in middle school. He'd played guitar, even then. She thought he probably still did.

The thought of his hands on her entered her mind and she flushed with embarrassment. Looking up, she found the amber of his eyes now nearly black in the nighttime, and in them she thought she could perhaps see her own thoughts, floating in cartoonish bubbles. The slight upturn at the corner of his lips made her think maybe she wasn't too off-base, and inside, her stomach became a Slinky neatly turning over itself.

"Oh, well I've told you now," she replied softly.

"Right," he said.

A loud trilling sound coming from Casey's purse pierced the bubble of warmth and suddenly the world became real again, became less saturated and duller. "Oh," she said, rummaging around in her purse, "it's probably my Mom calling."

Sure enough, it was, and she'd missed about four or five text messages from her as well, seeming frantic in nature.

"One moment," she said, sounding exasperated, and answered the call. "Hello? Yes... Yes I'm okay... No, we went to the park... I'm fine, Mom. Yes, okay,.. I'll be home soon... No- no I can walk. Yes, okay... You too... Bye."

"Gotta head out?" Hassan asked.

"Yeah. If I don't, my Mother might blow a fuse... or lose a marble."

"Ah, well, we wouldn't want that," he replied.

"No, no, that's best avoided. I better go." She laughed to lighten the tension.

"Can I walk you home?"

Casey felt strange and alien suddenly. The call had sobered her a bit, and she realized what she may have been doing - actively causing herself pain. The concept was not entirely unknown to her, to be sure, but that was primarily why, internally, she knew it when it seemed to be rearing its gruesome head. She thought briefly of Mary, and then of Hassan potentially meeting her Mother after walking her home, and it all seemed to swirl and coalesce into a single category: 'a bit much.'

"That's okay. I'm only a few blocks away. It's not too late yet and I'll be safe. Got my phone." She did feel confident she'd be safe. What she hadn't shared with Hassan was that she, too, was familiar with sneaking out. She'd been doing it as long as she could remember. Living in a basement room with a staired egress window had its perks. "Besides," she said, "You live in the opposite direction right?"

Hassan paused for a moment, but concurred. "Yeah, we're only a couple blocks away from the alley. Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Thank you though," she said happily. "Thanks for hanging out in general; it was fun. I really can't remember the last time I went down a slide."

"Anytime," Hassan assured. "Actually, you should come to the alley this weekend. We're trying out Glow in the Dark Bowling. It's been a hit so far. I haven't seen you come in in a while."

Casey considered this. She thought it might be a good excuse to try and reconnect with Vickie, and the promise of seeing Hassan again was certainly a nice thought, if just to exchange pleasantries. His wording made her flush again and she was thankful he probably couldn't see it.

"Okay, I'll try and make it," she replied.

"Saturday, 10."

"Okay," she said. The rain became loud for a moment in Casey's ears. She thought maybe she could smell whatever soap he used in the confined structure. I have to get out of here, she thought.

She climbed out, a bit awkwardly as she planted her leg to get down. She was soon back at the bottom though, and watched as, from above, Hassan quickly exited as well, swinging down from a hanging bar onto the wood chips covering the ground. They met his feet, squishing with the rain. She could smell the grass and the soil in the air.

Hassan put up his hood to protect himself from the rain, which was slowing incrementally. Casey followed suit by lifting her purse above as a makeshift shield.

"I'll see you," he said, and in the glow from the yellow street light that had flicked on nearby, she could feel her body heating with his gaze; he had a way of de-thawing her.

"See you," she laughed, and, nodding, they parted ways to rush down the alleys and simple streets of their suburban town.

Hassan's heart beat steady like a drum in his chest, and his head swam as though swept up by crashing waves.