Fireworks – A Madeline Short

Note: Madeline is a character from the book I’m working on. These short stories are just character building pieces where I explore her and her interactions with her best friend, Dev. I find them endearing. I’ll share a few of them. Here’s the first. Consider it as one last appreciation for summer.

“Why haven’t I been to your place before?” Madeline asked. She was on the phone with Dev. She made sure to keep her phone from pressing flush against her cheek; it was uncharacteristically hot this summer and she didn’t want her phone to be slick with sweat.

Dev was silent for a moment. Madeline spent the time cursing the pavement and the heat it held and released back into the air.

“You notice your surroundings?” he asked. Madeline kicked a rock and looked up, squinting against the setting sun, wishing it would hurry and take its torturous heat with it.

“Yeah,” she said. “You live in upper Eastside Manhattan.”

It was nicer looking than where she lived, but it was still the city. The crowds swarmed heavier through here. Not just because of the fireworks show over the river later, but also because of the plethora of museums in the area. To Madeline, it was still a part of the same, grimy city she lived in.

“Isn’t that why you called?” Dev asked. Madeline frowned.

“No,” she said. Her eyebrows drew together. “I called to ask if you wanted a slushy from the convenience store.”

Dev released a breath. She could see it in her mind, the way his posture would change. Was he that stressed about her perception of it?

“Then why,” he said, laughing, “Would you lead with such a confrontational question?”

Madeline pursed her lips together, staring at the green signage outside of the convenience store. “I was curious.”

“Are you satisfied with my answer?”

“Absolutely not,” she said, pushing through the door. The store smelled of stale taquitos and grotesquely red hotdogs. Memories of stopping here on her way home from school flooded her brain and made her stomach churn. Those were not great memories. Her stomach did not agree with convenience store food.

“Hey, Madeline,” Rick said from behind the counter. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Rick was a big man with a five o’clock shadow. He wore the same thing everyday: a green and black striped shirt, khaki pants, and tattered old nonslip shoes.

“School’s been out. No reason to stop by,” she said. He laughed.

“I just hope you’re staying out of trouble,” he said. “Keeping your head on straight.”

Madeline waved him off. “Of course, of course.”

She walked towards the back of the store, phone still pressed against her ear. There were scuff marks on the sticky floor.

“What flavor do you want?” she asked. Dev hummed.

“What flavors do they have?” he asked. Madeline rolled her eyes.

“They have the same flavors every time I ask you this. And you always ask me what flavors they have.”

She stared at the spinning ice in the machines, the green lights above all four flavors: Coke, sour apple, blue raspberry, and cherry. Though she called to ask him if he wanted one, she knew what flavor he would get. He would hear sour apple and blue raspberry said one after the other and assume it would be an amazing combination. He would get it and pat himself on the back for being an amazing chef, even though it was flavored ice he had no hand in making. Madeline put her phone on speaker and placed it on the counter so she could free her hand.

“Are you going to tell me?” he asked.

“Coke, sour apple, blue raspberry–“

“That sounds good,” he said.

“What sounds good?”

“Sour apple and blue raspberry.”

“You are aware you get this every time, right?” she said.

“You are aware we don’t get slushies that often, right? Why would I remember?”

Madeline pulled down on the lever for blue raspberry.

“You know what?” Dev continued. “Just do sour apple.”

Madeline stopped pulling the lever.

“Are you doing this just to prove me wrong?” she said.

“Ye-“

“I already put blue raspberry in the cup.”

“Then do blue raspberry, then,” he said. “That way I don’t get the same thing every time.”

“Fine,” she said. Madeline sighed, filled the cup up halfway with blue raspberry and filled it the rest of the rest of the way with apple. He wouldn’t like it as much if he didn’t get the apple. It was his favorite. He liked how the sweetness of the blue raspberry took the edge off the tartness of the apple. She grabbed a cup for herself and filled it with half cherry and half Coke. She snapped the plastic lids into place and grabbed two straws.

“I’m going to go,” she said, “so I can pay for this and carry both of them. I’m two blocks away.”

“Alright,” Dev said. She hung up and put her phone in her pocket. She picked the cups up and carried them to the register. Despite the amount of people in the streets, clamoring for a spot to watch the Macy’s Fourth fireworks, the inside of the store was dead.

“Hey, Rick,” she said. She put two cups on the counter and pulled her wallet out of the pocket of her jean shorts. “How’s it been? How’s your uncle?”

Rick stiffened.

“It’s been okay,” he said. His round face looked crestfallen. He was sporting a five o’clock shadow and he had a slightly sour smell, as if he had skipped his shower yesterday. “My mom is working around the clock to pay for his hospital bills. I’ve picked up extra shifts, here, but we can only do so much, you know?”

Madeline nodded as he rung in her drinks. She put her aunt’s credit card in the machine, feeling a spike of guilt at having someone to pay for her things when confronted by someone working so hard to afford the bare minimum.

“Is Dev doing alright?” Rick asked. Madeline thought of the penthouse apartment she was headed to, the comfort, the lack of worry. The contrast was stark.

“Yeah. We’re both stressed about college applications. His look a lot better than mine, though.”

“Just make sure you go. Get the degree,” he said as he handed her the receipt. Madeline offered an awkward close-lipped smile as she put her wallet in her pocket.

The sun, while it was beating her down earlier, was welcome on her skin as it melted the suffocating environment of the store off her. She adored Rick, but he had become all doom and gloom since his uncle got sick. It made sense, of course, but that didn’t make it any less challenging to be around.

The two blocks Madeline walked were crowded. Tourists paused to take pictures of the East River, selfies in front of it, pictures of the buildings, etc. Madeline ducked through them, lips pressed together. She hated crowds. It was part of the reason she had never gone to see a fireworks show. That, and the fact that her aunt had never taken the time for it.

She tucked one of the slushies under her arm and pulled her phone out of her pocket. She checked the address, looking at the building in front of her, and craned her neck. This was it. And there, way at the top, was Devon’s apartment. Madeline tried not to feel intimidated. Dev didn’t act differently, but would his parents?

She pressed the small, black button to be buzzed in.

“Who is it?” Dev’s choppy voice came through the old speaker.

“Madeline.”

The sound of a lock clicking let her know she could open the lobby door. She did so and walked on marble floors to get to the elevator. She looked down at the scuff marks on her shoes, the grayed strings on her jean shorts, and her faded t-shirt. It felt wrong.

She melted under the security guard’s scrutinizing gaze.

She got into the gold hued elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. Would it open into his apartment? She knew some places did that, but wouldn’t that be nerve wracking? What if a stranger got in? her stomach started flipping. She was out of her depth.

But it was Dev. Dev wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. The apartment was huge. Madeline didn’t know where to look first. The apartment had an open floor plan. The den was sunk in the middle and had pristine white couches, a fur rug, and a glass table. The walls were lined with photographs. Madeline recognized them as Dev’s work, photos he had taken, mostly while they were together.

“Hey!” Dev said. He poked his head over the lofted second floor that overlooked the den and kitchen. “You made it.”

“Yeah,” she said. “This… This is crazy. Are your parents home?”

Dev jogged down the stairs, black hair a mess on his head. He was in a pair of sweats and a Princeton sweater. In July.

“No,” he said. “They’re on a couple’s retreat in Bali.”

Madeline pursed her lips. Bali. Couple’s retreat. “Aren’t you hot?”

“Why, yes, I am,” Dev said. He walked past her and towards the kitchen. “Thank you for nothing.”

Madeline felt dirty. She felt like she should take her shoes off and leave them at the door or change into different clothes. The area felt less like a home and more like a place to keep clean. She hesitated, but moved towards the kitchen, trailing behind Dev, captivated by the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the East River.

Dev pulled something wrapped in brown paper out of the fridge. “You want to help me cook?”

“Hold up,” she said. She put the slushies on the island in the middle of the kitchen. “What is the plan? I thought we were going to watch fireworks.”

“We are,” he said. He pointed towards the window. “They fire them over the river, Lyn.”

Madeline looked at the setting sun, the way it reflected off the gentle ripples left by the wake of boats. In the floor, center to the windows, was a pile of pillows and a couple of blankets.

“Oh.”

It was all she could say. She pushed the slushy across the counter. Dev picked it up, pulled the paper off the straw, and took a sip.

“Apple?” he said.

“You never know what you want,” she said. “I didn’t want to get you something you wouldn’t like because I was bullying you.”

Dev chuckled. “You are ridiculous.”

“No, you are,” Madeline said. “Why wouldn’t you invite me over before now?”

“I uh…” Dev shrugged. “I didn’t want you to change your opinion of me.”

“Do you think I care?” she said. Dev looked down. His shoulders were tense. He peeled the sticker off the brown wrapper and took raw chicken out of it.

“Let me make you homemade chicken nuggets,” he said. He turned and pulled a knife out of the wooden block on the counter. Madeline frowned, but took a sip of her slushy and let the odd behavior slide.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” she said. Madeline sat at one of the chairs at the island as Dev began to chop the chicken into bite size pieces.

“Everyone says that,” he said. Madeline leaned forward on her elbows, straw caught between her lips. “It’s an unfair assessment.”

“No it’s not,” she said. “When have you proved otherwise to me?”

Dev gave her a pointed look. “I don’t like you right now.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong!” Madeline threw her hands up. “Don’t be mean.”

Dev laughed as he grabbed eggs out of the fridge. He pulled spices, flour, and bowls out of his cabinet.

“I can’t cook, ” Madeline said. She sunk deeper in her chair and crossed her legs. “I’ll supervise.”

“That’s fine, Lyn,” Dev said. He cracked eggs into a bowl one-handed them whisked them together with a fork. “You don’t have to do anything. How’s Delilah?”

They talked about her comic the entire time they were cooking. Dev asked questions about new planets, jump points, and suit upgrades. Madeline was smiling the entire time as she explained her new plot points, the struggle, and the design of her world. Her art style had been developing; it had gone from bold with harsh lines to a more watercolor-esque style. She adored the softer change. Dev seemed excited to see it. His blue eyes were wide and curious.

Thirty minutes later, they had a platter of golden, homemade nuggets and fries. Dev arranged them on a small tray in the floor amongst the blankets and pillows. He pulled two glass bottles of root beer out of the fridge. They had finished their slushies while Dev was cooking.

“You ready?”

The sun had mostly set. The New York City lights were blinding against the water.

“Yeah,” Madeline said. She felt giddy. She had never seen fireworks this close, with this nice of a view. Her cheeks hurt from smiling. She took her shoes off, sat down, and curled her legs under her. She was staring at the homemade nuggets, the root beer, and the fries, feeling the soft blanket against her skin.

“Wait,” she said. “I need—”

“A sauce?” Dev opened the fridge and pulled a small Tupperware out. “I made honey mustard.”

“You made it?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It was very hard. Incredibly challenging.”

Madeline didn’t know enough to argue with him. She grinned and pat the seat next to her.

“Sit,” she said. “Sit.”

“Okay,” he laughed. “Hold on.”

He walked to the wall and pressed the light switch. All the lights in the apartment dimmed. It made the city seem that much brighter. It reduced the glare against the glass.

“How do you get your windows so clean?”

Dev sat next to her and put the container of honey mustard next to the nuggets. “We pay someone.”

“Really?” Madeline raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he said. “They come three times a week.”

“Three times a week,” she said. “For windows.”

“Of course,” he said. “Why would you want this amazing view obscured?”

He reached over and grabbed a nugget. He dipped it in the honey mustard (He used an obscene amount of sauce with each bite, as usual, but Madeline kept her judgments to herself.) and popped the whole thing in his mouth. His camera was next to him. He took the lens cap off and put it on the windowsill, which was barely an inch off the floor.

“You know,” he said. “I’m trying to get better about capturing light.”

Madeline took a nugget and dipped it in the homemade sauce (She also used an obscene amount of sauce with each bite, but she would never admit it.) and bit it in half. The coating was crunchy and savory, and the chicken was juicy. She didn’t hide her shock well.

“This is good,” she said. “Really good.”

Dev rolled his eyes. “I told you I could cook.”

“Capturing light?” she said. “How would that—” 

A squealing steak and a pop of red light interrupted her. Her jaw popped open as her neck fall back. Gold followed, as well as blue and green, and then all four.

She had never seen it like this. Her eyes were wide. Her lips pulled back into childlike smile. Her aunt her never taken her to fireworks shows, and she had never understood the appeal. Why would you love something that pollutes the air so badly? How could something so loud be fun to see? It was annoying and it was a waste of time and whatever all of the lazy adults in her childhood had told her. She had always stayed inside, drawing, or writing out the story for her comic. She had done this for years, headphones on, ignoring it all. It was easier that way, rather than to face it and see what she had lost as a kid.

But the beautiful colors soaring across the sky made those excuses feel thin.

“It’s so pretty,” she whispered.

She vaguely heard the click of the camera.

“It really is,” Dev murmured.

She was too enraptured with the fireworks, anticipating the next burst, to notice that Dev didn’t take a picture of the fireworks.

It wouldn’t be until weeks later, when she was walking through his apartment looking for her shoes, that she would notice the picture hanging in the hallway: a side profile with messy, curly brown hair cascading down her back, wide brown eyes reflecting red, white, and blue, and a splitting grin.

Her heart glowed with the lights in the sky, healing instead of hurting, for the first time in years.

Note: I’ll be sharing more Madeline going forward. If you enjoyed, leave a comment and check out some of my other original work.