Those Brown Eyes
I'd still yank the stars out of the skies,
Just to put the twinkle back into your eyes
some unnamed genius on the internet
"This isn't fair, Lawrence."
"What isn't?" he asked as he fixated his lens on Dalia's face. "Stand still, this thing won't focus."
She put on her ugliest face and looked into the camera. "Don't act stupid. You're bad at lying, we've already established this."
They both stood in the brightly lit room. Summer had just ended, and the sun was shining brighter than ever. Lawrence and Dalia both liked it dim, but they couldn't flip a switch on the sun and make it disappear.
Her dad had just bought a house plant to put in the studio against Lawrence's wishes. He said it took away from the "vibe" he was trying to create. The light bounced off of the plant's shiny leaves and into her eyes. She squinted and held up a hand in an attempt to silence it.
"And what exactly do I lie about?"
"You act oblivious because you have problems being up front for whatever reason. I literally just burped like a sumo a second ago and you don't see me having any shame. I don't think you should either. I can handle the truth."
Okay, the last part was a lie. The bottom line was that she was a better liar than Lawrence, and that was all that mattered. Dalia knew that she was a bigger liar than Lawrence would ever be; but he didn't have to know that.
"So, again I say, this isn't fair."
"You didn't say that to Wendy when she got with Dean."
"So we're playing that card."
He shrugged his shoulders and snapped another picture of her.
That camera gave her so many conflicting emotions. She'd loathed it since she was a child; it took her dad's time and it put an immense amount of pressure on her to be great.
She learned to avoid it, but in a moment of desperation, last last summer, she'd tried it out. She learned that she was terrible with it. Then, in turn, she met someone who was the opposite of terrible with it.
Then the whole thing just went to shit.
There was no problem with the camera making her feel insignificant; there were many things that did that. It was nothing new.
The problem was that she liked it more than she let on.
She didn't know what was in Lawrence's fingers to make him so gifted, but she wanted more. She felt beautiful on the other end of it, but she'd never say that.
The same camera that made her feel beautiful, and the same boy alongside it, made everyone feel beautiful. She'd be setting herself up for failure if she believed otherwise.
That's why it didn't make sense for girls like her to develop crushes on guys like Lawrence. It didn't even make sense.
Karielle was a testament to that. The universe had shoved the girl down Dalia's throat so forcefully that she didn't even have the option to be blindly optimistic. Karielle and Lawerence looked well together.
Then she really took a while to look at Karielle. Dalia thought she herself was hot shit until she saw that girl. Then realized there were a thousand more just like her. Then she felt like cold shit.
Her feet were hurting from the Mary Janes she wore five days a week, and less when there wre holidays. Her socks were way too thick that day. She pulled them from her feet and chucked them across the room. They hit the plant that she'd been growing more and more agitated with. A little bit of the soil even spilled out onto the floor.
"I can destroy all this shit in here," she smiled. "Answer my question, employee."
"So you're playing that card now?"
Dalia shrugged her shoulders.
"I think we got a problem," Lawrence said as he set his camera down on his side and leaned back onto one of the desks in there.
"And that is?"
"You're entitled as fuck Dalia. You act like the world owes you something," he said plainly.
Dalia cocked her head back in surprise and crossed her arms. "And what exactly does the world owe me?"
"Answers, to everything. What you want when you want it."
"Because the world revolves around me, duh."
Dalia was masquerading the hurt she received on the back end of Lawrence's words. Yeah, she felt like the world owed her. No, it was not because the world revolved around her. It was because maybe, just maybe, she'd be happier if it did. Instead, it revolved around everyone else. And she had to sit, watch, and enjoy the movie.
And now she had to watch Lawrence and Karielle.
Headache. Nightmare.
"I'm not being funny," Lawrence said, despite his smile.
"Right," she focused on his teeth instead of the words he'd just let through them. "All I'm saying is, I think I'm a lot more fun than Karielle and the rest of your customers here," she snatched his camera from him.
"You're not doing this right now," he muttered as he tried to reach for it, to no avail.
Her nails were freshly done, and long at that. It was only a matter of time before she--
The camera slipped out of her clawed hands, where Lawrence had to catch it by the strap, just as he did the first time they met.
She looked at him with scared eyes. Then they looked at each other. Then he coughed and looked away.
"I know now is not the best time to say this, but also yes it is," she started. Lawrence looked at her fingers click together. He looked prepared for some daunting news. "I stole your favorite camera. It didn't disappear."
The last time Karielle was there, and Dalia told Lawrence she'd shut down for him, she took it as her chance to nab his camera. It was for personal, top-secret operations.
He sucked his teeth. "See, this is what I'm talking about. You don't even like cameras. You just wanted to take something of mine."
"Fuck you. Because you're absolutely right. But only halfway. I've actually been working on something."
"Is that right?" They were still standing in front of each other. Face to face.
The homewrecker side-character spirit in her stirred; she wanted to take her piece right then.
Instead, she kept her fortitude and looked him in his eyes. You're the main character."I've been taking notes."
This time, he was the one to step back. She felt powerful.
"I got another question," Dalia said.
Lawrence blew air out of his nose. "What, Dalia, what?"
"What you getting mad for?"
Lawrence grabbed his face and shook tension out of his shoulders. "Nothing, just ask."
"How many Karielles are there?"
She was prepared for him to act lost like he always did, but he gave her a straight-forward answer. "One. Her name's Aniya."
"What's she look like?"
Lawrence walked over to his desk in the corner and unplugged his computer to give to her. He typed in her Instagram and slid it set it down on the floor in front of Dalia.
"I know you didn't just put that down like I'm a dog."
"I put it down like you're a klutz and I don't have daddy's money to replace this computer if and when you drop it. You almost broke a camera for the second time."
So he hadn't forgotten their encounter that day.
"You think I'm spoiled," she crossed her arms. "I'll have you know--"
"I don't care, Dalia. Just look at the computer. This is already weird."
"Weird how?" she inquired as she sat down on the floor to join the computer. She opened up another tab with Karielle's Instagram on it to compare the two.
"I have my girl friend examining my girlfriends? Seems wrong."
"Aw, I told you we were a power couple," she chided. "Don't worry, I'm not jealous." The power couple jokes were just starting to slide out. She was going to say the wrong thing one of those days.
Lawrence looked down at the screen and saw Karielle before he reeled back. "How did you know her handle?"
"I instastalked you," Dalia said without hesitation.
Lawrence clearly did not know what to make of that, so he just stood and let her do what she wanted to.
Her eyes darted back and forth between the computer screens. "You clearly have a type."
"And that is?"
"Fine and thick. Beautiful, admirable, enviable women."
Lawrence couldn't object.
Dalia was trying to keep from weeping, looking at the two. The space in between her thighs and her tall frame did nothing to compare to those girls. It was hard feeling like hot shit when girls like that existed. She so desperately longed for the days when she was oblivious to the existence of others. She looked over the top of the screen at her long, thin legs and at her bright blue, knee-high socks.
She shut the computer.
"I need advice."
Lawrence looked at her, waiting for her to say what she thought. He knew it was going to be something bizarre, she could tell already. She didn't like how he made her feel predictable.
"So, girls like Karielle. Like Aniya. How do they do it? I know I don't look like that, but I know there has to be some type of algorithm that could convince everyone I do. And maybe I could get the guy. Like, not the corny one or the hyper-masculine one. But the one everyone wishes they could marry and bed and love."
"I don't really think you need to do anything, Lia."
"Since you're my friend and it only made sense for you to respond that way, let me rephrase. What makes you choose girls like Karielle over others?"
"I get with who I get with because both parties involved know what they want."
"So sex."
Lawrence cringed. "No?"
"Okay, so all you guys want from each other is dick and clit?"
"It's not even about that."
"Well, what is it about?"
He looked down at her, and sighed before he joined her on the floor. "You're making my head hurt, Lia."
You make my heart hurt.
"Just tell me."
"It's about... I don't know, company?"
"I'm keeping you company. I keep you company all the time. What about Karielle makes you want her company more than mine?"
She's staring at me with those eyes again.
Dalia had a thing for asking questions that a child would ask. It seemed like she was in her own world half the time, only exiting that space to gain new perspective and retreat again.
Lawrence sometimes felt like he was another one of her adventures; he didn't know how to feel about that. He wasn't sure if he'd be another one of her paintbrushes, or tap shoes. All she did was ask questions and confuse him. He didn't know why she trusted his counsel so much; he didn't know any more than she did. He was only a year older than she was.
Dalia was much wiser than she let on, he could tell. That's why he didn't know why she had to badger him all the time; half of it, she could figure out by herself.
He had to find an answer to her last interrogation.
It wasn't that he liked Karielle's company more than Dalia's. That was far from the truth. And he wouldn't sit there and lie to her and say that it wasn't.
Lawrence's soul felt comfortable with Dalia, but his body was comfortable with Karielle. He knew how to move, what to say. Her, and the idea of her, never stressed him out. His palms got sweaty any time Dalia was near. She was menacing under that soft exterior of hers. There was a constant fear that she was going to break something of his.
She'd finally bought more hair ties; he wanted to tell her to lose them again. Wild and free Dalia was his favorite version of her; there were lots of them, too.
Most of those days, her hair stuck up, defying gravity. Others, Wendy got so tired of the look that she would braid Dalia's hair out for her. He didn't like that as much; her hair got all in her face and hid her beauty mark.
Her eyes still glittered from behind her stray hairs on those days; Lawrence couldn't get away from them.
There were boundaries to friendships. Lawrence had never had a girl friend like Dalia, but he knew there were some things one simply did not do. Pulling her hair back to see her beautiful face would be overstepping those boundaries, so there was at least one upside to her buying more hair ties.
Her hair was coarse; Dalia told him once that she hated brushing it. He knew that one time he tried raking his fingers through it and failed miserably. He could've sworn he felt a dread in there. She did a good job of covering that up though; she always looked neat.
They looked well together, with their matching afros.
Lawrence never thought himself secretive. He just thought that not everything was for all ears to hear. He told people what he thought was relevant to his relation to him; nothing more, nothing less.
Dalia put a pin in that real quick.
The way she'd just made her big, watery eyes steely and cold shook him. He was mad at her for making him stand down the way she just had. She was getting a leg up on him, and he didn't know how to make it stop.
She had a new inquiry for him every time he could stop his head from spinning. He had to admit, her questions were good most of the time.
His problem with her was that he knew she was sensitive. He never wanted to say anything that would hurt her or make her feel a way about him. Odd things could set Dalia over the edge, and she never showed how much of it she internalized. She would just wipe her tears and come up with some clever quip to change the subject.
Lawrence didn't know how he grew to be so protective of her. It started with Cole, he thought. The way that Cole spoke to her was so haphazard and careless. He wanted to sock him in the mouth that one time.
Then Dalia would come to him with those questions that only had hurtful answers.
"I don't want to hurt you, Dalia," he admitted.
She tilted her head to the side. "I don't think that quite answers my question."
"I think everyone in our lives is meant to come and eventually leave. There's no such thing as a constant. Someone comes, changes your life for the better or worse, and they move on. To a jail cell, a new life or lover, or to the grave."
"Morbid," she responded as she stared into space.
She pulled her knees up to her chest and said, "You smell good," before she knocked her head over onto his shoulder.
"I mean, I know that's somewhat true," she started. "I just don't want it to be. I watch these movies and read these books, hoping that somewhere in the pages of real life that there's some kind of silver lining in there somewhere."
His phone rang briefly, signifying that he had a text from someone. He picked it up and flicked her head away from his shoulder.
"Uh, Karielle said she got caught up at this gig she's doing. I'm all yours."
"Good. Because I was going to box her for my time on the clock," she muttered.
"You're kidding, right?"
"We both know I'm not."
She looked up at him before she put her head back on his shoulder and continued speaking. "I don't think it's unfair for me to feel like life owes me. Life chose me, therefore I think that life can give me at least some of what I want. And I want really really badly to have my own story. I want to be the main character. I want the boy. I want the journey. And I want the focus to be on me for once. I don't think that's so much to ask," her voice cracked a little bit.
"I think all of us do, to some extent. I realized a long time ago that we can't control our own narratives as much as we think we can."
Dalia sat up and looked at him. "No."
"No?"
"You're wrong, Lawrence. Look around! You made all of this for yourself." She gestured between the two of them. "We made this. All of this is soulful; it's intentional."
Lawrence smiled at her. He loved when she got that way.
She took one of the rings off of his fingers and slid it onto hers. "I have a proposition."
"Not a literal one, I hope."
"I told you we were a power couple," she laughed. "But no, seriously. I'm constantly pressing you. I thought I could tell you a little bit more about me than what's obvious. You can tell me about you, too, but only after I'm finished, and only if you want to."
"Where is this coming from?"
"My mother," she said as she twisted the ring around her finger. "Don't ask."
"So, growing up, my parents gave me any toy I wanted as long as I wouldn't cry when they dropped me at daycare. I always failed, no matter how hard I tried," she looked away when she spoke.
"I got a couple of toys here and there, but I never wanted them to leave me. My mother would always chastise me when I cried. My dad never checked her about it, but he would always bring me one home when he was done with work. He's always been scared of her, I think."
John was around more than Joanne was, but that wasn't saying much. When she was born, Joy and Glee was just being built from the ground up. Joanne had been nose deep in her lawyer business far before then, but Dalia's birth came right in the middle of the chaos.
"Then, after a couple of years, it got better I guess. My dad was home more. My mother started her own practice at some point, never to be seen again. And she wouldn't just stay there, at her job, and mind her own business. Instead, she would show up to my school for the PTSA meetings or the Award Banquets and get on my ass about not getting anything. Then she would disappear again."
"Then I started reading. I would read about girls who were good with a sword, or dudes who could time travel or some shit. I wanted to emulate that to some realistic capacity. That's also when I started with all the hobbies. I wanted something that I could be good at, recognized for. Maybe I could be proud of myself, even if nobody else was."
It was just recently that Dalia realized that the universe wasn't going to give that to her. She hadn't thought about it much, but she knew that it probably wasn't in the stars for her to be a prodigy. She was just her.
"And then I met you."
Lawrence raised an eyebrow.
"You're a prodigy, for sure. You know how to make anybody feel beautiful," she hesitated. "I mean, look at your clients. One of them even ended up being your girl."
That little voice in her head chuckled. "Since we've become friends, I've learned that we all have our roles. To inspire and to be inspired. You're definitely the former."
"You don't think it goes both ways?" Lawrence finally spoke.
Dalia wasn't sure what he meant by that.
"Sure, I inspire you. You inspire me too."
Everyone else was disposable. They were there to entertain, please, or use him in one way or another. He had no problems with that, as long as the feeling was mutual.
So he was a muse, he figured. Something about the revelation made him salty with hypocrisy. Before he could stop himself, he was saying something he shouldn't have.
"You know, our friendship started because I wanted to make you into a muse."
Her eyes went back to their watery state. "I know."
He'd made a mistake. He recovered quickly.
"So what purpose do your other friends serve in your life?" he asked. "I sound like you," he violently shook his head.
"I think it's more of the same. It just presents itself differently on everyone. Like with Wendy, I love her because she knows what it is to be glamorous and present. She knows what it is to be self-sacrificing and loving. She has no boundaries to her love, I don't think. Even though she can be a terrible simp, she never fails to intimidate and empower me all the same. Not to mention she has killer legs."
Wendy was that unconditional lover that Dalia felt everyone deserved, and not enough got.
"Then there's Julia. She's so smart and so strong. She knows what she wants. She's straightforward and cutthroat. And she's a little manipulative, but in a good way."
She teared up while talking about her friends. Lawrence wished she would stop doing that; it was beginning to mess with him a little bit. He'd asked her the question to keep her from getting to that point, and there she was, at that point.
"You don't have to keep going."
"Don't cut into my main character speech!" she hissed.
Well, she stopped crying, he thought to himself.
"Dean's a little hero. He knows what it is to be a friend; a true, genuine one. He knows how to be dominant without being an asshole, and he cares about my Wendy. That's all a girl could want for her best friend."
"My turn," Lawrence smiled.
"You're everything."
Lawrence fought the urge to kiss her so hard then. The girl was manipulating him, he figured. Nobody was that good with words. She had been hanging around Julia a lot, recently. It would make sense.
"You know, Lawrence?" she began.
"Lia?"
"I think you're beautiful. No funny shit, and in the most wholesome way possible."
"Ditto. But you knew that already. Glad to see the feeling's mutual." he said without removing his gaze from the road.
"I don't really know how to explain it. I don't usually pick my friends. The universe kind of picks them for me because it knows I'm oblivious to half of this shit most of the time. This time around," she gestured between the two of them again. "It seemed like I had a choice. You were there, at my disposal, but just far enough to where I could choose to keep my distance. And I didn't."
Lawrence always wondered why she latched onto him the way that she did. She didn't have many friends, and she wasn't one to go out of her way. It actually seemed like people latched onto her. He didn't know how she didn't realize that.
"And there you were. With your short shorts and your Jordan 1's. I just thought you were cool at first. I even gave you a nickname."
"And what's that?"
"Photographer dude."
"Real original."
"I'm not the creative here, buddy. Anyway," she fanned her hand. "And I wanted to get pointers from you, I think. You caught me down bad with those trash ass pictures and I wanted to get some kind of point across. I wanted to learn what secret sauce you were using."
So she was using me, Lawrence thought. He no longer regretted the muse comment.
They were just using each other, like everyone else did.
"I don't know, I've never really wanted to get pointers from anybody before," she brought her finger to her chin in wonder. "I usually like admiring people from afar. Like, I never asked Cole what orthodontist he went to. I never tell Wendy to disclose where she got her bag from. It was weird. I think it's because my dad liked you. Then I found out you play baseball, and it's weird because I didn't give a fuck about Cole playing baseball--"
Lawrence put his hand on her kneecap to slow her down. He thought she was going to blow a gasket at the speed she was talking.
"I told you not to do that," she jerked her kneecap away.
"Sorry Glees," he snickered. He knew what she'd told him. He chose to ignore it. It was funny to him, watching her squirm. His mind drifted then, thinking about making her squirm some more. He knew what got her going, and he wondered how much more he could find out about her.
Chill, man.
Something clicked in her head after that. "I remember now."
She got up, and her skirt flew up as she stood. "No, my feet hurt. That's why I sat down in the first place," she sat back down.
All the back and forth and up and down was getting to be a problem. He needed her to sit still, so he could get his brain to sit still as well.
She had to know what she was doing.
Then, she snapped her fingers as if that was going to help her recall the rest of the memory. "Wendy and Dean. They were all up each other's asses, and I thought I could find my own person since Dean stole mine. You were the next available option."
He stopped to interject, but she held up a hand and clamped his lips together. "No, then you started talking about your ideas and shit and I was in it at that point."
"You just gave me like eight different explanations, Dalia. Come on, focus."
He knew what she was trying to say; he just wanted to hear her validate him some more.
She held her head and laid back onto the floor. "Argh, I don't know. I think it's because you exist. You don't trip too much about what you're going to do or be, you just do it. I admire that, I envy that."
She explained her envy list to him, and how his name was on it an infinite amount of times.
"And I don't have that many friends; it's not like I had time to split. Then Wendy got with Dean and I had even more free time on my hands."
"So I'm one of your projects. Like on the side?" He couldn't let go of that.
"Boy, no. I would've been dropped you."
-
SZA: Drew Barrymore
social media
instagram: rachelmcbriide twitter: rachelvmcbride snapchat: rachelmcbriide youtube: rachel mcbride tiktok: rachelmcbriide
i just want to say thank you to everyone who's been reading thus far. this book is so near and dear to my heart, it tugs at so many of my personal emotions. the characters are people i've falled in love with in real life. the insecurities, the thoughts, they all belong to my experience. and i just want everyone reading to know how empowered writing this has made me. i've learned a lot from Dalia Glees.