You know him as well as I do. Tell me this: how is it possible to love someone and hate them at the same time?

Fine. Don’t tell me. Be like that. You’re not still mad, are you? Look, it’s not my fault we were late for breakfast. Whose idea was it to take a shower together anyway? What did you expect?

Anyway. As I was saying, how is it possible that he can annoy me like no one else in the world with his bossiness and his overprotectiveness, but that I would still take a bullet for him tomorrow without hesitating even a second? You tell me.

Yes, I *know* I have taken bullets for him. *Yes*, I agree it’s a good thing he’s become a pro at healing gunshot wounds over the years. Yes, I know it’s too bad that I never became as proficient at that power. Stop rubbing it in, all right?

Cheesehead.

Look, this is the first real vacation we’ve had since college started. And here we are in one of those fancy all-expenses-paid tropical resorts where you don’t have to worry about a thing for six days while you’re enjoying your well-deserved vacation. I mean, we’re all tired. Exhausted even. Max and Liz have been killing themselves in Boston with studying and taking care of Claudia. You’ve been working day and night trying to make your idea about tying your mom’s doo-dad business to the Crashdown’s restaurant business work. And I’ve been helping you and painting in every spare minute that I’m not helping you, trying to come up with enough canvases for my first "real" show. And what does he do?

Oh, what the hell. Don’t look like that. I’m sorry I called it a doo-dad business. I’ll apologize to your mom personally when we go home, all right?

Cheeseheaded pixie girl.

I was telling you what he did today. Do you want to know or not?

Fine. So ... after spending the first half of our vacation stuck inside the resort compound, we finally ventured outside this morning to visit the actual town of Ocho Rios, and where do we end up but in a shantytown that turns out to be the town’s commercial center--

I am *not* trying to insult your intelligence. I know you were there. I’m trying to tell the story from the beginning, and I’m trying to tell it right, so just give me a break, okay? Trust me, I’m getting to the parts that you weren’t there for. Now do you want to hear it or not?

Fine then. Stop interrupting.

While you and Liz were wandering around the booths, Max and I were hanging around outside the market. You know, just talking and joking around. It’s been months since we’ve been able to just joke around, and it was good to do that again.

When that woman wearing the tie-dyed dress offered to do that braiding-hair-beads-thing to your hair, of course I moved closer. I was curious to see how you would look in corn-rows. But then I realized that Max hadn’t followed us into the market, and my usual sense of needing to protect him at all costs got to me.

Don’t look like that. I know he’s an adult and more than capable of protecting himself. It’s partly an instinct, all right? But it’s more than just genetic programming -- a second-in-command protecting his leader. I’m telling you, it’s more than that. To tell you the truth, I protect him because he’s too innocent and trusting for his own good. He needs protecting. You know him. You know what he’s like. I’m right, aren’t I?

Of course I looked for him while you and Liz were playing with your hair. Wouldn’t you have, if you hadn’t been otherwise occupied with the hair-beading-whatever thing?

No, that was *not* a insult. And yes, I do like the corn-rows. They’re cute. But I like your curls better.

Cork-screw-curl cheeseheaded pixie girl.

I’m not going to keep telling you what happened if you keep interrupting. Once and for all, do you want me to tell you or not?

Fine. Stop flapping your lips then. And no, I won’t kiss them until after.

I was starting to tell you that he wasn’t hard to find. I found him still outside the market, surrounded by at least fifteen raggedly dressed children, all skinny elbows and scraped knees and toothy smiles. Even from a distance, I could tell that he was listening to them as if they were the only people in the world. You know how he gets.

As I got closer, I got a better look at exactly what was going on. The kids were taking turns shining Max’s shoes. When he saw me on the fringes of his crowd of children, he gave me this quiet, apologetic smile -- you know the one -- like he was sorry he’d let the kids delay him. As if that was what was worrying me. You’d think he’d have worried a little more about his own safety. But you know how he gets.

When all the kids had had a chance to shine his shoes, he gave two American dollars to each child. I don’t think those kids had even seen that many dollar bills all together at once. He realized that, I think. You know him. He tried to make them feel better about it. He’s impossible. Really he is. He drives me completely nuts.

*Don’t* interrupt. I can see you about to interrupt, and I’m telling you right now, *don’t*. Let me finish what I was telling you. All right? Thank you.

When the kids finally left us alone, I looked down at their handiwork. His sneakers looked like shit. His ankles were scuffed and raw where the kids had mistaken skin for shoe. And his wallet was considerably lighter -- and you know as well as I do that as graduate students with a kid, he and Liz don’t have a lot of money to spare. But he looked totally and completely happy.

He really drives me completely nuts sometimes. And sometimes I admire him so much I just don’t know what to do with him.

We joined you and Liz after that. I watched him slip his arm around Liz as they worked their way through the market together, as if they didn’t have a care in the world....

See why he drives me nuts? How do I protect him from himself?

You’re right. I know you’re right. I should just trust him to know what he’s doing. Yes, I agree he’s a big boy.

Mmmm ... yes, I’m tired of talking about this right now too.

Yes, I’ll kiss you now. Yes, you were very patient. Yes, you were a good listener.

Sort of.

Sparkly cork-screw-curl cheeseheaded pixie girl.

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