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Mabel deduced it early on after the two first met.
Tim Kono was weird.
He showed his affection in mean, snarky remarks. He walked with intent and spoke in sentences that had no reservations behind them. The complete opposite of Mabel. The girl who stumbled over her words just as much as she stumbled on the cobblestone pathways of the Arconia. And mostly, she trusted too much, to a fault.
They say that opposites attract. Which may have been the reason she gravitated toward Tim instead of the other kids that inhabited the Arconia. Or maybe, she thought, she loved the thrill. The New York mystique that Tim seemed to radiate; cruel, cold, yet caring.
Tim was weird, maybe not in the best way. Maybe in a bad way. That was just the Arconia itself to the Long Island tween. Weird, in either a funny or bad way.
But, The Boy from 6B…
Theo Dimas was weird in an intriguing way.
He was like a mystery waiting to unfold. A puzzle not quite finished. Pieces missing.
She remembers the first time she met him. The first year she spent with her Aunt at the Arconia. Summer was just beginning, still a slight chill in the air as the sun began to set. Mabel struggled to keep her eyes open in the elevator. She let out a yawn and clutched her American Girl doll closer to her chest. She spent the entire afternoon being doted on by little old ladies all over the city. How cute she looked dressed up exactly like her doll in a matching white hat and sweater set. Like she stepped straight out of Meet Kit.
Her friends back in Long Island would have laughed at her, dressed up as a doll, but deep down, she loved it. It pleased her Aunt, and it gave her the minuscule chance, even for a few hours, to be someone else other than Mabel Mora.
When the boy and his father walked into the elevator just moments after her and her aunt, she was met straight on by a pair of blue eyes. It wasn’t exactly head-on; The boy was a few inches taller than her, definitely a year older than her at least. He smiled quickly at her and she smiled back as he took the empty spot by his father. Mabel and the boy stood at opposite ends. She peeked over, from the wall created by the two adults, hoping to catch his eye.
It was as if he could feel eyes leering into him as he turned to face her again. She could see his face clearer now, dusty brown hair, soft, kind features nothing like Tim’s sharp edges.
Who said she couldn’t have more than one friend at the Arconia?
She smiled back before letting out a quiet “Hi,” across the elevator. Her face fell as he looked at her, silent and puzzled.
Thinking perhaps he didn’t hear her she spoke louder, thinking back to her parents. Speak like you mean it.
“Hi,” she said again, this time loud enough that she saw the boy’s father steal a look at her, a tinge of annoyance on his face.
She then felt her Aunt’s grip on her hand tighten and under gritted teeth whispered, “Mabel be quiet.”
She stayed silent the rest of the way, eyes firmly staring at her Mary Janes as the elevator stopped on Six. She didn’t look up until she felt the presence of both bodies leave the elevator. Just in time to see him turn his head back toward them. Sad eyes, sad smile on his face.
The image bore into her mind as she gave an equally sad smile back.
Her Aunt, once finally home, told her all about the young boy. Theo Dimas, what a poor boy she tsked.
Tim called Theo a freak. Basically balked when Mabel asked about the boy, but Tim didn’t like many people. He barely tolerated Mabel, she thought. If anything, Tim didn’t like anyone who couldn’t hear his incessant torrent of rhetoric and critique.
Still, she was intrigued by the case of Theo Dimas, the silent resident of the Arconia. Sometimes from her perch on the fountain, she would see him in the window of his apartment. Sometimes reading, sometimes staring. On days when Tim wasn’t around, she would sit and sketch. The details weren’t perfect, too far away to see every curve of his face or just how blue his eyes were but she did her best. Tried to memorize his features from the quick glances. The moments in the courtyard or lobby when they crossed paths.
Those sketches she methodically tore out of her sketchbook and hid under her bed so Tim couldn’t see. Just a secret for her.
When she returned to Long Island, she borrowed a book on ASL from her local library with the intent of learning.
By the time she returned to the Arconia the next year, she had only learned how to say hello and how to spell her name.
---
Tim Kono hates Theo Dimas.
It’s fine because he’s sure, almost positive, that Theo hated his guts too.
Tim has every right. He saw Theo that night. Saw the glances that Zoe made to him well before too. The glances he made back. Stringing her along.
The night plays back in his mind, the fear, the guilt as he saw his friend in handcuffs. Zoe falling. He’s still not sure, did she slip or was it Theo? Regardless, he still sees it over and over in his head, Zoe falling and Theo’s face, disbelief in what they both saw.
Whenever his head reaches his pillow he reimagines that night, and he grows to hate Theo just a little bit more each time.
He thinks he’ll always have the upper hand though. Peering back into his mind at just why Theo would hate him so much. It’s not just that his life was held in the balance, in the pocket of Tim’s well-tailored suits. At any moment he could reveal the dark secret he holds, but no, he knows Theo hates him so much because of Mabel.
It’s always Mabel.
They weren’t friends, not that Tim knew, but if Zoe could hide things then why not Mabel? Tim was direct. Always spoke the truth. Mabel kept her cards close, even to those who she cared about.
Sometimes he felt like he was on his own mystery case, to find out exactly what was going on in people’s minds around him. Mabel and Theo…he couldn’t read.
It was an astute observation that wherever Zoe and Mabel went, Theo seemed to suddenly appear. And while she seemed to ignore the teenage boy, dopey and lanky; the corners of her mouth would tick upwards and she’d huff to herself gently. Too much warmth for a casual smile to a stranger.
One thing Tim knew to be true — Theo was a creep. The silent resident of the Arconia. It had its blessings and curses.
Such as the blistery hot summer day of Tim and Mabel’s 16th year. Tim suddenly snatching her copy of the most recent volume of The Hardy Boys out of her hands.
“Hey!” She says from her seat on the courtyard fountain. “It was just starting to get juicy.” Her hands pawed at him as he teased the book from his grasp. Standing on the fountain ledge, peering down over her. Lord of the land, just how he liked it.
Mabel laughs in a way that only seemed to affect Tim. In one of those sappy, ‘I hate everyone but you’ ways that shitty sitcoms seemed to tote around those days. A laugh that caused his shoulders to slump – his edges to soften.
Tim sat down next to Mabel, staring at her, unsure of exactly what to say. Not exactly a first. Mabel was used to Tim’s silence. He never said anything unless he meant it. Unless he wanted someone to hear it. The rest was unnecessary.
“Something on your mind Tim?” Mabel freed the book from his grasp, setting it on her crossed legs. Emotions from confusion to worry played across her face waiting for Tim to speak. But he still silently stared, as if analyzing the thoughts in his words.
“Just thinking about Oscar and Zoe.”
“What about them?”
“I don’t know. You ever wonder what it would be like if we were like them?”
Mabel flinched at the words, a laugh escaping her lips. “What do you mean?” She said, puzzled.
Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve known each other for six years now. Haven’t you ever thought about it?”
Tim knew Mabel to be astute. To read between the words to understand the meaning. To be like Oscar and Zoe. To be romantic with each other.
She picks the skin around her nail, a bad habit she couldn’t seem to kick, and mirrored back his shrug. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” He laughs, the rare Tim Kono smile gracing his face. The kind only reserved for the Hardy Boys, Mabel especially.
“Well sure, I’ve thought about it but,” she sighs, turning her body closer to him. “You’re my best friend so — maybe we shouldn’t?”
“Thought Zoe was your best friend.” He says it less as a question and more like a statement. Mabel playfully punches his arm and laughs.
“Fine, you’re my closest, oldest friend.”
Tim narrows his eyes, leans closer, scans the features of her face — focuses on her lips. “Won’t know until we try.”
It feels like he enters a fugue state, his lips on hers. He doesn’t remember moving forward, closing his eyes, or how Mabel moves her body in towards him. Lips crushing against each other.
As soon as it starts it’s over and the teens pull away from each other. Tim opens his eyes to see Mabel, flushed eyes starry, confused — her lips still in a slight pout.
The puzzled look was back on her face as the cogs in Tim’s mind move. He blinks as he evaluates the event that transpired between the two.
The idea of love is confusing to Tim. He was certain, for weeks even, that he may have been in love with Mabel Mora. The butterflies in his heart when he saw her laugh, her smile. The wires short-circuiting every time her hand touched his arm.
And yet.
When their lips met, something felt wrong. And in the pit of his stomach, he feels a kind of guilt, residing there, among the butterflies. A feeling that perhaps in another lifetime this could work, but it wasn’t this life. Not this time. The guilt wracks him as he stares back into Mabel’s dark eyes. The guilt of stringing her along if only for just this short moment. There was something there though, beneath her eyes that said I know, and his fears were quelled.
Suddenly Tim is back to standard-fashioned, robotic, buttoned-up. A sly smile paints his face as he says “Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t.”
He gets up to leave and Mabel catches the sleeve of his shirt. Even in the summer he can’t help but be buttoned up. She tries her best not to tug, the polo is worth more than all of the clothes she owns. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah. Got a music lesson and I’ll catch hell for missing it.”
“Catch you later Tim.” He sees Mabel smile as she lets go of his sleeve.
The skin of his wrist where her fingers lightly grazed start to prickle and burn, missing the warmth. He’ll think about it the entire lesson but with each note, it’ll slowly pass and fade — much like the burning of his lips.
But what he will think about the most was what he saw as he left the Arconia courtyard. Out of the corner of his eye, Theo Dimas, watching from the wayside. Surely he saw, just by the way his ears seemed to be tinged pink and a sort of sad grimace splayed out on his face. A longing, loneliness. A chance that he didn’t know he wanted until it was already lost.
And in the dark of the night, years later when Tim thinks back on Zoe. While the torrent of emotions swirls in his head, he’ll think about Theo’s face. Think of the moment when he saw Tim kiss Mabel Mora. Knowing well that he would always have the upper hand. Sure it was petty. It was stupid in his own right, to care so much about the drama of romance and feelings. But try as he might, Tim was still human.
Theo would always be the lost cause. As long as he was in his orbit, Tim always had someone to hate more than himself.
Little creep.
---
“What’s the point in going anywhere else when you have everything you need in New York?”
That’s what Teddy Dimas used to say any time Theo even mentioned going anywhere outside the city.
Sure there were vacations. Summers in Greece, where great aunts and yiayias would dote on the young Dimas boy. Where they would fill his plate to the brim with dolmas and pinch his cheeks. But when it came to day trips, small weekend vacations out of the city — it was almost unheard of.
The truth is that when the entire city is your backyard, things tend to get kind of boring. Theo knew the layout of Manhattan like the back of his hand. The Upper West Side beginning to lose its color. Every so often a new restaurant or pop-up or store would emerge and a pocket of color would resurface. But soon enough it too would fade away back into the background of the city that painted his life.
Of course, now the city was less like a backyard and more like a prison. Any semblance of color left in the city washed away. Devoid of vibrance — a world in black and white.
Not Mabel Mora though.
Since her reintroduction into the city and the Arconia, Mabel seemed to radiate with color. A tiny beacon — turning the grayscale world around her back to normal.
Nothing is normal anymore.
Coney Island wasn’t exactly what he imagined from books and tv. For one thing, it was a lot more run-down than they make it appear. Mabel seemed unfazed, walking around like she owned the place. He tries to play the scenes in his mind, the rush of something new, her smile, her laugh.
It’s the way her mouth ticks up; eyes scrunch; like she’s trying not to laugh but ultimately failing. Almost angelic.
When thoughts of Zoe plague his mind at night, he tries his best to focus on Mabel’s smile. And it helps him to sleep just a little better at night.
Seeing Mabel in the flesh still causes his blood pressure to rise.
The Arconia is huge and yet somehow every time he visits Theo is graced by the presence of Mabel.
One moment he’s standing in the elevator alone on his way up to the sixth floor. Then as the door is closing there she is. A surprised smile on her face. And it feels almost like Deja Vu — though the two are a couple feet taller than they were before. She smiles and he has to stop his knees from buckling. He feels gangly and dumb, embarrassed that the sight of Mabel makes him feel weak in the knees.
They stand side by side as the elevator starts to rise. One thing about Mabel he can appreciate is that she takes joy in the silence, but there is something eating at her. She picks at her fingernail and steals quick glances. He wonders if she can see him stealing looks too. Then the elevator stops revealing the sixth floor.
Theo looks over to her, giving a smile, and nods goodbye as he leaves. He’s surprised to see that Mabel joined him on the sixth floor, her hand tugging at his coat sleeve.
When he turns around to face her, her cheeks seem to be tinged rosy pink, more in embarrassment than anything. Her mouth slightly open, trying to formulate her words. Then she speaks and he concentrates on her mouth as she speaks, trying her best to articulate.
“We should exchange numbers." She flinches in embarrassment, eyes wide as she corrected herself. “Phone numbers I mean.”
Theo stares in confusion as his mind processes the words and his heart skips a beat. Looking down he saw her phone, angled towards him in an effort for him to take it. She was serious. A new contact entry open, waiting for his phone number.
Rip off the band-aid.
As quickly as he typed his number and hit save, her phone was back in her hands. She smiled nervously, biting her lip as she typed something on her phone.
His own phone went off and he checked it to see a text message:
Hey this is me…Mabel.
He chuckled to himself as he stared at his phone almost in disbelief. He waited by the elevators with her waiting for the next one to arrive. Staring at her text trying to formulate the best response. Something suave or cool, but what was Theo but the exact opposite? Fuck it, he thought as he typed the first thing on his mind:
Hey me…Mabel, it’s Theo.
As the doors opened, Mabel checked her phone, laughing softly at the message. A wave goodbye from each other and he could breathe again. His hands couldn’t stop twitching at the sight of her. Before the doors closed she smiles. Her hands move, close to her chest, signing:
‘Take care.’
The doors close and Theo’s brain burns. Did that really happen?
The scene plays over and over in his mind. He’s unsure if it was real or if he was visited by a ghost. Some sort of possessed image, a hologram of Mabel Mora asking for his number.
He makes it back to his father’s apartment and for the moment he’s alone. He stares back at the text conversation as he sits on the couch. Stares at the empty gray circle at the top of the conversation that just has an M in it. Mabel Mora gave me her phone number he repeats in his mind. Like a middle school boy.
Stupid.
The gray photo won’t do; it just doesn’t feel right.
He looks through his camera roll, finds a photo he took that day in Coney Island. The pier overlooking the sea. The circle fills in with the colorfully painted hues of the sky.
Much better.
He inwardly groans as his face begins to burn hot. He crashes face-first into the plush fabric of the couch, trying to regain his senses. The thought strikes him and he curses himself out. Eyes closed tight, embarrassment washing over him.
Shit, he was so down bad.
---
Benjamin Franklin once said that ‘in this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.’
And Mabel cursed him from beyond the grave for speaking such words into existence. Because for the majority of her life, death seemed to follow her. It made her wary, skittish, slow to trust. She put an impenetrable wall around herself and others. People seemed to die around Mabel — like a curse. The logic was sound; if no one got close to her, no one would have to die.
Sometimes she felt like something inhuman — feral. Don’t get too close to Mabel Mora or else she’ll bite. In honesty, she hasn’t felt the same since that New Year’s Eve party when the Hardy Boys dismantled. Oscar in handcuffs, Tim slinking into the shadows — and Zoe…
Zoe splayed out at the entrance of the Arconia forever doomed to haunt the grounds.
Since that night Mabel had one rule; once you broke her trust you never earned it back.
This is why she wondered why she was at Theo Dimas’ door — embroiled in a battle within herself on whether or not she should knock.
And now she’s overthinking things, wondering if she knocked would he even know she was there? Would the vibrations of her knock be enough, was there some other button she needed to press to alert him, or should she send a text message? She curses herself in her head knowing well she should have done that in the first place. Every time she even thinks about it. A casual text, a friendly olive branch, the one that she should have built up the courage to send before standing outside his door. Her hand hovered over the text conversation that still only read:
Hey this is me…Mabel.
Hey me…Mabel, it’s Theo.
She stopped thinking of just how foolish it all seemed. How her cheeks began to flush and she felt like she was a teenager again.
She trembles as she stands, clutching the coat in her hands. The one he lent to her — the one she stole, kept in her closet for six months. Now the city was blisteringly hot and if anything it was a good excuse. The karmic irony she thinks, stealing from a thief.
God bless all petty thieves and whatnot.
Ghosts of the Arconia followed her around, played in her head — laughing, mocking. Both Zoe and Tim look up from hell feeding off of her torment. And as soon as she thought of them, both of them were there taunting.
“Got a date with the creep Mora?” Tim says with his hands in his pristine, tailored suit.
“Getting your kicks from my sloppy seconds?” Zoe says with a toothy grin and a laugh that cuts like glass.
Mabel resists the urge to tell them both to shut the fuck up, in fear of a random passerby seeing her shout at nothing.
The courage inside her was slowly fading. Pulse quickening, deciding it was time to make her exit before something happened.
Much like the sudden opening of the door which causes her to stop, like a deer in headlights. Eyes wide at the image of Theo Dimas. His face mirrors her own, surprised being face-to-face with each other.
Theo smiles and the ghosts around Mabel disappear. Suddenly, in the dimly lit hallways, she focuses on his blue eyes, radiating, and she can’t help but blush.
She gulps, both waiting for the first to make a move. Until she realized that she’s the one who needs to make the move. So she smiled sheepishly and mouths out the word ‘Hi’ clutching the coat closer to her chest. Until he smiles and waved back, still bewildered by her darkening his doorstep.
She gulps as she tries to remember the video she watched the night before. The one she studied for at least an hour until she got the moves right. Still, with trembling hands and clumsy movements she signs:
‘I’m here to return your coat.’
The gesture took him aback, surprised to see her signing to him, and a full sentence even.
‘Are you learning ASL?’
He asks.
‘Yes…poorly.’
She managed to sign. Awkwardly, she held the coat out waiting for him to take it. His hand reaches for the edge of it, just so briskly, his hand touches her and they both can feel the shockwave. Skin on skin -- two heartbeats skipping as one. His hand drops and she’s still holding the coat, panic setting in. What is he doing?
Until he looks over to her, blue eyes shining, biting his lip.
‘Do you want to come inside?’
Mabel doesn’t know how it happens. A flurry of time, small talk, a cup of coffee, and suddenly she’s in Theo Dimas’ lap, kissing him. And he’s kissing her back. Hands roaming. Leaving little traces of heat over the now exposed skin between her jeans and sweater. Little droplets of heat that make her twinge. Her thumbs trace over the edge of his jawline as they crush into each other, mouths kissing deeper. The kind of embrace that could only be shared by two people who have been lonely for such a long time.
His hand snakes farther up underneath her sweater. Pulling her closer and her own bringing his face in deeper with desire. The brutal need to become one entity.
When her lips are weary and bruised, she lays her forehead on his own. Eyes closed, listening to the sound of his labored breathing. In the back of her head, she can hear the wisp of Zoe laughing. She shifts, trying to knock the sound out of her. Then, the gentle touch of Theo’s hand on her back sends the laughter back into the deep recesses of her subconscious. She sighs, both relieved and cursed that out of everything to send the voices away, Theo Dimas seemed to be the antidote.
Tracing the edge of his lips she thought of the kisses past. A tinge of jealousy washed through her. She wonders if he was doing the same thing — if he was currently comparing Mabel to Zoe.
Tim was robotic, methodical. Oscar felt like nostalgia, unspoken words. Alice was the temptation of a new change, the absolution of her past sins.
Theo was something completely different. A promise of clarity. To moving forward without forgetting the past. To saying yes to life.
And it scared her.
There’s that panic again. The acid feeling of bile begins to rise. The edges of her eyes became blurry and she thinks that all of this was a huge mistake.
“I-I have to go,” she manages to stammer out. Sitting up straight and untangling herself from him and the couch “I’m sorry.”
She stops in place when his hand encircles her wrist. Mabel whips around to see Theo, pleading eyes, and God, her mind is a battle between running straight out of the apartment or into his arms.
‘Wait,’ he signs, and she gulps. His hand slowly releases its grip on her, making sure she won’t make a run for it. She stands still waiting for his next move. Until his hands slowly sign:
‘Stay.’
She has no more time for love. Mabel decided that a few weeks ago when a dating app date ended in disaster. She thought she was past the ‘Bloody Mabel’ phase of everything, but there were still some weirdos out there. Staring into Theo’s eyes she can’t see past the judgment. The leering eyes of everyone else. The residents of the Arconia, the podcast regulars, Teddy Dimas, Charles, and Oliver. Would it be worth the headache to explain everything? How do you even explain that you’re falling in love with the grave robber who once kidnapped you?
How can they walk down the street while others look at them? Bloody Mabel and Theo the graverobber? She hears the guffaws. I guess even criminals can find love.
Then there’s that word again, love and she sees the world melt away again. Theo’s face becomes clear in her vision and she thinks who the fuck cares what anyone else thinks?
Outside this apartment, the moment she leaves, she knows the ghost will return. Death will follow.
Theo signs it again.
Stay.
She sees the life in his face, in the warmth that was left from his hand on her wrist. Thinks that, maybe tomorrow, the levelheaded Mabel will return. That this will be another thing left in the disastrous past of Mabel Mora.
But for now, Mabel smiles, and Theo smiles back. And Mabel hopes instead for a more pleasant future. Not the one where death is an inevitability that lives at her doorstep. The one instead brimming with life. One where Theo doesn’t have to beg her to stay. She just opens the door and he’s already there.