pocket protector

"Why can't you ever just be joyful?" asked Addam.

"Well," said Minoth, "I can."

And he was, so true to his word, even as Addam, some hypocrite, reproached. For Minoth was joyful to be at Addam's back, to support him when the road was rough. Minoth was sprung where his step was sturdy. Minoth was Addam's ideal idea of a man.

(And ideas of men could be generalities, when one worked with so many different types: father and sons and bards and huns and farmers and irresolutions.)

Now, Addam was not a nerd. Addam was a jock. And yet Addam had these unjockish tendencies. He worried, like a nerd. Wore polo shirts, like a nerd. Called people out on their unpleasant behaviors. If he was irritable, he was irritable in the way of a speculous bird.

All metaphorically, of course. It mattered little, for their post-present day.

Minoth was not a jock. Minoth was a nerd. And yet Minoth had this strange tendency: to be emotionally unavailable whenever anyone was looking at him. To be perpetual and unchanged. To be always avoiding the appearance.

But Minoth liked to be seen just as much as any person, though he would through and through deny it. Perhaps in that way, he sacrificed his joy, which Addam found never to be spied. He denied that he had it, when anyone was watching. He was nervous, so nervous, to be seen.

If Addam asked, however, and Minoth could respond in righteous defiance, then he would show it. Then he would point it out.

How Addam's laughter rolled off of him like pillbugs caught in a wave, like Minoth's own acrobatics to propel him across the back of a big-breasted monster. How food was heartier and richer and sweeter, for the gladness of a companion to share it with. How every day was another chance, just waiting in lain for the taking, if one so chose to stoop and swoop it up.

Addam was like that, like the sun rearising. Addam was optional, but constant. Addam was like a bastion point.

To Addam, Minoth could be a rear-guard protector. To Minoth, Addam could be a spacious royal pocket.

And someday, maybe, there would be smiling sitting in laps. There would be hands stuffed in those pockets, to find hearts humbled there. There would be dressing, or undressing, for the opportunity at bay. There would be simplification, to make room for complexity to enter.

Right now, Addam wondered. He wasn't sure what to see. He wasn't sure how to be right, to be correct, and simultaneously to offer space for one so contrarian to shake about, and to grow.

"I suppose I wonder why you don't want to," said Addam, in slower tones.

"Because it's difficult. I save my energy."

Save your energy for fussing and fighting? Save your wrinkles for scowling, and switching out?

"If you'd like, I could make it easy."

Minoth nodded, eyes wandered to the camp. There were others there, by and by. There were many others, in the world, and still the path traveled itself straightly forward.

Easy. Make it easy. Take it easy, on me.

But Minoth hated to be babied. Minoth just hated to be led.

So Addam was just right, then. Addam was the perfect challenge.

"You couldn't do much better, at that."