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Rahim shifts uncomfortably in his seat, asking himself for the umpteenth time what exactly he – a proud cat lover – is doing at small-town dog competition of all places, and on a school night, no less. He toys nervously with the leaflet in his hands before he remembers there’s a poem scribbled on the other side of the advertisement of the show he found himself attending, Adam’s frankly horrible handwriting staring at him as if to judge him. He immediately smooths over the paper and sighs.
What is he doing?
Just when he seriously considers leaving – the competition should have started at least ten minutes ago – the lights dim, and dogs and owners enter the small stadium accompanied by whistles and applauses.
Too late to leave now.
Rahim claps politely, trying to locate Adam among the participants. He’s not difficult to find: he’s the tallest, and by far the most relaxed, scratching the chin of what Rahim assumes can only be Madam.
To Rahim’s endless despair, Adam and his dog are the last to compete, so he has to sit through nine other performances he understands absolutely nothing about, surrounded by the “oooh”s and “ahhh”s of the audience whenever a tiny dog jumps through a hoop or runs through an empty tube. Rahim tries to pay attention, but his eyes keep shifting towards the bench Adam is sitting on waiting for his turn, Madam resting quietly on his lap. Rahim would be lying if he said the two of them didn’t look somewhat sweet.
When Adam’s turn finally arrives, he steps into the arena and raises his eyes for the first time, scanning the crowd. He nods in the direction of a brunette woman with a camera – his mum, Rahim assumes – and then their eyes finally meet. Even through the distance, Rahim can tell Adam is somewhat surprised to see him there, but gives him a small smile nonetheless.
This time, the dog’s performance seems far more interesting to Rahim. Madam is very agile but the real star of the show is Adam – he is completely in his element, there is no other way to describe it. Rahim doesn’t know him that well – does reading all of someone’s poetry mean knowing said person? – but he has never seen Adam smiling that much before in his entire life. It’s almost mesmerizing.
This time, when the audience claps and cheers at the end, Rahim joins enthusiastically.
//
“I thought you said tiny dogs jumping through hoops and shit was stupid”
The words make Rahim looks up from his phone. He has been leaning against the wall outside the stadium for the past ten minutes, torn between the idea of going home and waiting for Adam to tell him – well, he doesn’t know what, exactly. Something.
Just like before, though, Rahim takes too much time to make a decision, and Adam is now standing in front of him, clutching Madam with one arm and holding his third-place trophy in the other hand.
Rahim ignores the comment and puts his phone back into his right pocket. “Congratulations” he says instead, nodding towards the prize.
Adam ignores his congratulations in return. Fair enough, thinks Rahim.
“What are you doing here?”
Rahim digs in his into his left pocket and takes out the piece of paper he was toying with before the show started. “Your last poem was written behind the dog competition leaflet” he explains. “I’m not sure it was on purpose or not” he adds, looking Adam right in the eyes.
The fact that Adam chooses that exact moment to avoid his gaze and crouch on the ground to let Madam down gives Rahim the confirmation he needs. It was on purpose, then, Adam wanted him there. Rahim doesn’t know how to feel about that, but he takes pride in the fact his intuition was right.
“Wanna pet Madam?” offers Adam without looking at him, still crouching on the ground and scratching his dog under her chin.
“Uh,” Rahim is at loss. “I don’t know how dogs work” he lets out. Not one of his most intelligent comments, in retrospect.
That gets Adam’s attention, who finally looks up, bemused. “What do you mean you don’t know how dogs work? They’re dogs”
Rahim crouches on the ground next to him to be at his eye level. “Okay” he starts. “Take cats. You pet them. They purr. You know you are petting them correctly. Dogs don’t purr, so how do you know you are not petting them where they don’t want you to?”
Adam blinks a few times. Rahim half thinks Adam is just going to stand up and leave him there with his stupid question, but instead he just rests his bronze trophy on the ground.
“Well, you already are in the right position” he starts to explain, pointing at the two of them crouching. “You need to be on the same level as the dogs when you pet them, or they might see you as threatening”.
Rahim nods, then Adam gently nudges Madam towards him. “Now let her sniffs you so she can gather information about you. I suppose cats do the same?”.
Rahim nods again. “Should I extend my hand?” he asks.
“Let her come to you” says Adam. “Look at the body language now. See? Her ears are held back and she’s making eye contact. She’s ready to be petted”
“Where?” If Rahim’s voice betrays a hint of panic, Adam politely pretends he doesn’t notice.
“The shoulders, the base of the neck, the chest” lists Adam. “Don’t –” He adds quickly, when he sees Rahim extending his hand right over the top of Madam’s head. Rahim retires it immediately. “Just reach in from the side, rather than starting from the head” continues Adam, and then – Rahim’s breath hitches at the unexpected touch – gently guides Rahim’s hand at the base of Madam’s neck.
Adam’s brain apparently takes a few seconds to make sense of its own actions, but when it does, Adam pulls his hand away so fast one would believe Rahim’s skin was burning. “There” he concludes, clearing his throat and avoiding his eyes “You are successfully petting a dog”
“Thank you” says Rahim petting Madam mechanically, the ghost of Adam’s hand on his still very much present.
“There you are!”
The voice of Adam’s mum makes them both stand up so fast their heads almost bump.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” she says with a big smile, enveloping Adam into a tight hug. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks, mum” Adam clears his throat again, half-proud and half embarrassed. Distantly, Rahim thinks it’s a good look on him. Adam crouches again to pick up his trophy from the ground, which gives his mum all the time to focus her attention on Rahim.
“I’m Maureen. And you are –?” she asks, with a big smile.
Rahim extends his hand and introduces himself. “Rahim” he says, at the same exact moment Adam says “A friend”.
Maureen’s smile grows even bigger. “Ohh” She glances excitedly at the two of them in the least subtle way Rahim has ever seen someone do, clearly misunderstanding the whole situation. Who would even think he and Adam could – ? Anyway.
“It’s not like that” says Rahim, in an attempt to save the situation, since Adam seems to have lost the gift of speech and instead acquired the power of turning slightly green.
“Not like what?” asks Maureen gleefully, pretending not to understand the subtext.
“We just go to school together, mum” intervenes Adam, still looking nauseated.
“Well, it’s very sweet of you to come and see Adam” says Maureen, and Rahim nods politely. “Do you need a ride home, Rahim?”
“No, I live nearby, but thank you.” He checks his watch. It’s almost 12.30, and he should have been home half an hour ago. “I actually should start going, it’s pretty late”.
Maureen smiles understandingly, and Adam gives him a not. He seems to almost have returned to his normal color. “Good night” he says.
“Good night” repeats Rahim. “And thank you for teaching me how to pet your dog” he adds as an afterthought, grimacing exactly one second later.
Maureen’s eyes seem to grow three sizes bigger, and Adam reverts back to looking nauseated faster than the speed of light. Rahim’s cheeks burn as if he’d been sunbathing in the hottest hours of the day. Why do mortifying things keep happening to him while Adam is around? He is pretty sure he wasn’t that embarrassing last semester.
“I mean Madam” he adds quickly, clearing his throat. “Obviously”
“Good night, Rahim” says Adam loudly, and his words seem more of a threat than a farewell.
“Good night” he repeats, walking away as fast as he can without actually running, embarrassment still burning his cheeks.
Lying in bed that night, though, he can’t help but be grateful that Adam’s poem wasn’t written on any other piece of paper.