PART TWELVE | ANCHOVIES AND BEAN SPROUT

We are just a tiny ripple on the ocean, a single flower on the meadow, a star in the night sky.

"Least favorite food?"

We sit side to side on the floor, our back leaning on the rail side of his bed and legs spread over the rug covering the floor. His room is painted in white and surprisingly neat; a well-made double size bed with cream sheet peeking under a brown comforter, a stack of books on the desk facing the window, and an acoustic guitar sitting comfortably on the chair. I can spot an old gramophone is placed on top of the tiny shelf on the corner of the room. Below the gramophone, books and records are lined in alphabetical order. The room is not huge, it is comfortable and smells like cinnamon and cherry. He probably smokes in his bedroom when Diane, his aunt, doesn't see.

When we arrive at his house, Diane is whisking an egg in the kitchen. She gives me a tight hug as Jeremy introduces me to her. Her smile is reaching to her eyes, radiating a warm welcoming look.

"You never bring your friends home, Jeremy. Who's this pretty lady?" Jeremy growls at her blunt comment, but Diane ignores him. Her eyes on me asking for my answer. I smile back and say, "I'm Tara-Jane, Aunt.." My sentence is hanging in the air, not sure what to call her.

"Call me Diane, Tara," she giggles, "okay, lemme finish this so you can taste my signature cookies." Jeremy grabs a banana from the counter then motions me to follow him upstairs. Leaving Diane with her cookies dough in the kitchen.

"Anchovies. Oil packed or salted. I can't eat that," Jeremy sticking out his tongue, his nose scrunches in disgust. It's a relief he has food he doesn't like, it seems he always in love with foods. He tosses the banana peel on the bin next to his bedroom door. It lands smoothly on the hard material. That is a bagatelle if we are comparing to his excellent quarterback throw in the field every Friday nights.

"How about you, Tara-Jane?" His shoulder bumps my shoulder in a light manner.

I place my finger on my chin pretending to think, "guess." I place my hand in his left thigh and squeeze it lightly. He flinches at the touch but covers it with a cough. His eyes flicker to my hand on his thigh. I could feel his well-trained muscle is tensed under his trouser.

"Mm... lemme think.... spoiled milk?" He smirks, his dimple is poking on his left cheek. I laugh at his silly answer. His forehead forms a crease and his lips puckers showing that he is thinking. "Kay, I'm serious now. Bleu cheese?" I shake my head. A cheese with Penicillium scatters on it is not the first thing that comes to my mind when I want to eat cheese. But that is not my least favorite food as well.

He licks his lower lip to moisten it, "Mm... banana? You always gimme your banana." I giggle and shake my head vigorously. He clicks his tongue to the roof of the mouth. "Oh, come on, Jer. Who doesn't love banana?" I poke his nose with my forefinger. But he is fast enough to dodge. He grabs my finger and slips it between his lips, pretending to bite it. I squeal at his sudden movement. I pull my hand from his mouth and shove his shoulder playfully, "gross!"

He chuckles, "Tell me, please."

"Come here," I motion him to come closer. He scoots closer to me, leaning his head. I cup my hand on his ear and whisper, "bean sprout." He aligns his face with me and whispers, "really?" His face is so close to mine, I could feel his minty breath fans my face. A red crimson creeps my cheek.

"Why are we whispering now?" I whisper, but couldn't handle myself from giggling.

"I don't know." He is still on with the whispering game, placing his forefinger on his lips. He bites his lower lip to hold himself from giggling. He leans closer, placing his hand on my earlobe. His nose tickles my neck. The warm air from his breath sends goosebumps through my body as he whispers, "what book do you like, Tara-Jane? Pick somethin' you like." His plump lips graze my earlobe as the word comes out. I feel my face is burning right now.

A soft knock on his bedroom door makes us pull apart. The door is quaking open revealing Diane, she is holding a plate of cookies in his right hand. "Tara, I make cookies. Hope you like it." she smiles whole-heartedly. "What about me, Di?" Jeremy pouts, but I could sense his playful mood.

"You have to share this time, Jeremy." Diane winks at him, I think the humor is running in the family gene. Diane places the cookies she made on the desk. She rushes down to pick up the telephone. It might be the Chinese food she ordered for dinner.

"Is she married, Jer?" I ask Jeremy as I checking out his books and records collection. The books are in a good condition, he is taking care of his books I could tell. The collection consists of a philosophical book, novels, and poetries. I never picture him as a bookworm before. It is unbelievable, a jock could land interest in a paper. I blame the movies that framing an athlete has no brain at all. The records also in a good condition, I note several band names I never heard. Suddenly, I remember the swimming pool in his uncle's backyard. "Your uncle.."

He nods, "Yeah, he is her ex-husband. We ain't get along really well."

It all makes sense why his uncle was so furious when he saw Jeremy back then. My fingers touch the edge of a record. I pull it from his shelf, my fingers brushing the cold cover. "Can we play this one, Jer?" I lift the record, showing the Beverly Hills Hotel on the cover to Jeremy.

"Eagles, eh? Sure." He gets up from the floor, setting the record on his gramophone. A piece of familiar music starts to play, Jeremy bows and offering his hands. "Dance with me, please." I chuckle at his request, it would never cross my mind to dance with Eagles on the background. That sounds ridiculous but I place my hand on his.

He pulls me closer, placing his hands on my waist. My hands awkwardly press on his chiseled chest but he leads my hand hooking on his neck. His face is so close to mine, I could see his soft facial hair from here. We move in sync to the Hotel California, the first song on the track. His lips curve to his typical cheeky smile, sometimes humming the lyric.

"Such a lovely place, such a lovely face."

He tightens his grip, moving his hands to embrace my body. I rub his back up and down, placing my cheek on his hard chest. The music is faded, I am focusing on his heartbeat inside his rib cage. Such a beautiful rhythm. I inhale his scent, the laundry perfume of his green shirt mixes with the cologne he applied after a shower.

"I have so many questions, Jer," I say softly.

"Go ahead, honeysuckle." His chest moves up and down as he speaks.

"What do you wanna do?"

"In life?" He strokes my arms with his thumbs. The record starts to move to the second song on the track, New Kid In Town. We are still moving slowly to the music. I nod to respond to him.

"I want to feel good. I want to be a free soul. Traveling around the globe, from the Sahara Desert to Borneo. From the busy street of Manhattan to Chatuchak the night market. But if you ask me, what job I want for a living... it's probably an architect. There is this school in my hometown, London, I want to attend after high school." His voice is soft yet so firm. I frown, "how about NFL?"

He chuckles making his chest vibrates, "Nah, thank you. My ankle is injured, Tara-Jane. This is my last season before leaving. Football is fun, but I have another plan for the future I want to live."

"Your parents?"

"They're in London. I move here after Diane's husband divorced her two years ago, volunteering to company her. Since she has no child. Any further inquiries?" He places his chin on top of my head.

"Any siblings?" He shakes his head, "how about you, Tara-Jane? What do you wanna do?"

"I want to be a medical doctor," I murmur. No one really asks me this question.

"You'll be the prettiest doctor, then," he says with a grin plastered on his face.

"Do you need a company to travel the world, Jer?" I tilt my head to see his face. He looks down at me, "only if it is you." I smile by hearing his answer.

We keep embracing, moving back and forth to the music. He nuzzles his nose to the base of my neck, shoving my hair aside. A whimper slips from his mouth. It sends goosebumps through my body. I could feel his lips smirking against my skin.

"Tara-Jane," he whispers with a husky voice.

"Hmm?"

"You better pick a book you like now," he says, pulling away. Suddenly I feel cold losing his warmth. He doesn't bother to look me in the eye, "I need to go to the loo."

He rushes to the door, exiting the room with a rush. He even stumbles on the rug in the process. I am flabbergasted from his sudden pullout. But then his head pops back on the door frame, "Listen, I ain't mad. I just.. I just need to fix somethin'. Stay there."

Then he vanishes to the bathroom. Finishing his business there.

***

Today, one of my close friends who has been struggling with a brain tumor for 6 months announced dead. This chapter is dedicated to her, may her rest in peace. She is loved.

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