“SMILE” by Jonathon Wilson

Atzelouuuuu! My cousin yelled.

I bolted up from the desk and out of the office, wondering if everything was all right.

Atzelou I need you help, he said. I clambered down the iron steps anxiously,  one hand bracing myself against the outside wall of the building as I hurried. He was at the parking lot right below the office and the door, squinting up at me with his usual small friendly smirk on his face. He was standing next to his car—an adorable silver mini Smart (don’t even get me started on the stupidity of calling those tiny contraptions smart—one accident and you’re squished like a sandwich before you can even gasp “balogni”). Looming, is more like it; he’s nearly seven feet tall, like most of my male cousins. I’d  probably have relatives in the NBA if we were in America.

I locked my keys in and the windows down and it’s going to rain, he explained, and I looked at the tiny opening of the window.  I looked up; a few clouds, but the sky was positively brilliant. My eyes hurt. Think you can fit your hand through there?

Hell no, I meant to say. My expression probably gave that away. But I flashed a grin and said instead, I can try.

So I did. I got my fingers through, then my wrist, and then it was kind of awkward because I had to angle my arm down vertically, and it really didn’t want to curve down that way. No, I told it, you’ve got to curve. My cousin came up behind me and literally yanked the window towards us, holding the car frame with his other hand. It stretched a few more inches wide and I was able to maneuver my whole arm in up to my elbow. A little more tugging and huffing on my cousin’s part, and my elbow was in too. I hoped I’d manage to pull it out again.

To make a long story short, then, I opened the car door. It was an exhilarating moment for us both. In part, because I was the tiny david who helped a benevolent goliath, and I was very happy to help—and he was very happy to get the door open. On the other hand, I don’t know this cousin of mine too much, as we always lived far apart, and it was a tiny but memorable experience between just the two of us as cousins. I appreciated that, probably more than he’ll ever know.

A few seconds later, it started pouring. I mean, pouring.

So we might not make it as NBA players, I guess. My cousins are nearing their 30s anyway. But prophets? Yeah, maybe. You never know!

“Angreek87″