Izzy and the Right Answer

by R. Cooper

  Iz opened his eyes and raised his head, not exactly sure when Rocco had arrived. Rocco and Ronnie were near the doorway to the kitchen area, which meant they must have just come in since the entrance was the kitchen. They traveled together a lot. It was comforting in a way that Iz didn’t question. Maybe he liked that neither of them was alone.

  “Iz talks like that when he’s sober,” Ronnie pointed out, not unreasonably. He ran a hand through his short black hair, his expression a beam of sunshine when he noticed Iz looking at him. Ronnie lowkey shined most of the time, as Eric had said once when very drunk. He glowed most when he was happiest, which was when he was with his closest friends, as far as Iz could tell. Ronnie looked like sunlight but not imposing like a Ra or an Apollo. He had golden yellow-toned skin that would darken during the spring and summer, and dimples on both cheeks, and eyes of such a deep brown that they reflected artificial lights, making them seem to sparkle.

  He was not popular in the way Eric or Rahim were, but Iz didn’t think he was lonely. He wasn’t dating anyone, but Iz assumed that was because of Rahim. Rahim had stiffened the second Ronnie spoken, though that was probably more for Ronnie’s presence in general.

  Ronnie had joined their group of friends almost accidentally. He’d asked Iz for help with something their first year of university. Iz had been distracted and dragged him along to his dorm room, where he’d met Patricio and Rahim and the others. Ronnie had been very tense at first, not rude but confused and a little lost. A few months later, he’d abruptly told Iz he was gay and tried to kiss him. Patricio had not been surprised, although Iz had.

  His heart pounding to turn and find Ronnie so close, he’d jerked back, and Ronnie had flinched and jumped to his feet to go stand by the door. Iz was rarely surprised, but when he was, it was always for emotional things. That moment had been so full of them. He’d sat there stunned and breathing hard while Ronnie had apologized. Iz had licked his dry lips and put his hands to his face and started to tell him that it was okay, but Ronnie had given him a strained smile and then left.

  Ronnie stayed friends with them all despite the moment that still made Iz tremble to think about, and didn’t seem upset that Iz hadn’t felt inclined to kiss him back. Imprinted like a gay baby duck, Patricio had remarked at the time. Ronnie Acebedo was now a somewhat out and somewhat proud member of the college’s soccer team, and it was something involving that, or queer athletes, that had brought him into contact with Rocco. Then Rocco was one of their friends too, without any effort at all. But he was calm and steady and everyone had responded to that.

  Iz hadn’t felt anything emotional upon meeting him, but then, he didn’t remember meeting him. Rocco had arrived quietly and settled in quickly, breaking no hearts and making no enemies. He had slipped inside the apartment now in much the same way.

  Rocco was in a leather jacket and baggy red hoodie, with a beanie pulled over most of his hair. He blinked several times, and Iz realized he was staring.

  He looked away. On the other couch, Patricio raised his eyebrows at him but said nothing.

  “He’s had whatever anxiety meds he’d already taken before he came over, and then, like, one sip of vodka. That’s all I know about. But he was talking about clouds until Rahim distracted him.” Eric briefly surfaced from scrolling through his phone, big blue eyes darting from person to person in question. “Some Engineering students are having some sort of gathering this evening involving wine. Fucking pretentious nerds practicing for their suburban futures. But—free wine. You guys wanna go?”

  Iz felt as if he should scowl about something. But he didn’t want to scowl. His heart was beating so fast.

  He really should have noticed this before and connected it to the man giving him concerned looks, who was so obviously the cause.

  “Clouds,” Rocco echoed, almost a question in it, and met Iz’s gaze.

  “Hello,” Iz greeted Rocco warmly. “I saw pictures of undulatus asperatus cloud formations today and they were breathtaking.”

  “Iz always talks like that,” Ronnie said again. “And he doesn’t—”

  “Shut up, Ronald,” Rahim told him, acid-sweet. “Save yourself.”

  “—Get high,” Ronnie finished quietly. “That’s all I was going to say.”

  “It’s so good to see you,” Iz continued to Rocco and caught Patricio making a discreet ‘calm down’ hand gesture.

  Rocco paused. His eyebrows tumbled together in a frown of confusion, although Iz didn’t think it was that unusual for him to be welcoming. He liked all of his friends. But after a moment, Rocco shook his head and forgot his frown. He gave Iz an easy smile. “You too,” he returned politely, then turned to talk to Eric.

  Iz dropped his chin to his chest. He picked at his jeans, then started to pick at his nails before seeing his nail polish and remembering he didn’t do that anymore. He huffed instead, then shifted and squirmed since he wasn’t comfortable.

  “Iz,” Patricio called out quietly and gave him a smile filled enough understanding for Iz to realize that he was acting peevish, and why. Rocco had never paid him special attention. Iz shouldn’t expect it now.

  “Human emotions are puzzling and an embarrassment to all we have achieved as a species,” Iz informed Rahim, who looked at him with eyes like strong coffee, glanced over to Ronnie, then held out his phone to Iz.

  “Help me pick out someone nice,” he said loudly. Several people looked their way. Rocco looked at Ronnie.

  Iz held Rahim’s phone with quiet reverence and considered several profiles on whatever app Rahim was using.

  If Rahim was looking for sex, Iz would be no help. But he flipped through different pages anyway, curious and interested. Some people from his classes were there.

  “What are you interested in, other than someone athletic and sensitive and good with kids?” Iz asked, not noticing that he hadn’t kept his voice down until Rahim cleared his throat.

  “What on earth makes you think that is my type, Jamie Islington?” Rahim took his phone back, although he didn’t snatch it, so he wasn’t that mad. He had painted nails too, clear polish tinted silver, like the studs in his ears, clearly visible since he had just had his hair done in a short Mohawk afro.

  Iz stared at him, wondered if this was one of those things that his last therapist and Patricio insisted he learn to not talk about, and finally avoided the question by busying himself pulling his sleeves over his hands.

  “Patterns and anomalies,” Iz murmured. Rahim directed a lot of energy toward Ronnie, who was great and nice and all of the things Iz had listed. Iz had assumed Rahim knew that, but maybe he didn’t. Or maybe he didn’t want to. Iz didn’t understand that; anyone should want Ronnie. But if he asked, he doubted Rahim would answer. Patricio would say something about ‘frustration’ and ‘pride’ and ‘freshmen are dumb. It’s just how it is.’ Iz peered at the phone. “What do you like? If you aren’t looking for more than a fuck,” he added, to be clear.

  There was a distinct moment of silence.

  “My God. My dear God. It’s so disconcerting when he does that.” Alistair poked his head out of the bathroom, shaving cream still on part of his face. “It’s like my baby cousin asking me about sex.”

  “Rahim also likes a bubble butt,” Iz informed him—everyone—loftily. They shouldn’t assume he was a child or ignorant because he didn’t date. “Though a lot of you like that, so that is less specific. I would say the same for cocks of at least six inches. Alistair likes piercings. Rahim likes tattoos but not full-body ones.” Ronnie had Filipino tribal designs around each arm, decorating his shoulders and his biceps. “Patricio enjoys hair he can run his fingers through. But Rahim asked me to pick out someone nice for him, and I think that requires more information than physical attributes.”

  “I did say that.” Rahim handed him back the phone. “All right, Iz. Find me a nice, fit man with a decent dick. No smokers. Don’t worry about the kids-stuff,” he went on, voice lower, “This is only a hookup.”


  Iz flicked a glance to Ronnie, now staring hard at whatever was on TV. As he looked away, his gaze caught Rocco’s. For a second, Iz wondered if Rocco saw what Iz saw between Ronnie and Rahim and what Rocco thought of it. But Rocco’s jaw was tight, and he didn’t say anything, and Iz couldn’t. In any case, Iz didn’t know about Ronnie’s dick, so he couldn’t volunteer him as a candidate.

  He also knew nothing about Rocco’s dick, except for what his clothing hinted. But those apps were easy to navigate, and Rocco might use them too. Iz could find out. He might find pictures of him naked. Which created an ethical dilemma—was he allowed to look if Rocco had posted them for people to look, or was it inappropriate to look when Iz was obviously never going to be someone Rocco would want?

  His hands froze over the screen. He had to force himself to move and to focus on his current task. Conversations started up again around him.

  Rocco didn’t sit down or take his jacket off. He said something softly to Ronnie, went to get Alistair a drink from the kitchen, and then Eric called him over to look at something on his phone.

  Ronnie was left to stand awkwardly by himself, and immediately took out his phone. Iz wanted to beckon him over to sit with him, but couldn’t do that without bringing him closer to Rahim, and he did not want that. He shot Ronnie a smile though he didn’t think Ronnie saw, before sighing and returning to the task Rahim had given him.

  The two apps Rahim was flipping between featured a lot of pictures of bodies, most of them without faces attached. This limited Iz’s ability to find “nice” but he finally found one who had a face and nurse’s scrubs on in one of his pics and handed the phone to Rahim for inspection, who said, “Hello, hot nurse.”

  “I don’t know the entire code to be able to weed out all the assholes—or to identify the nice ones. Subcultures have languages of their own.” Iz sat up. Some of his hair fell over his ear. He sank down in the other direction, feet under Rahim’s thigh, his shoulder against the arm of the couch and one suspect pillow. He propped his chin up with one hand.

  Rocco grinned at whatever Eric was showing him, then glanced up. He paused, his eyebrows dipping into another puzzled frown.

  Iz smiled happily at him.

  Rocco seemed even more puzzled but smiled back, the gap in his teeth visible and adorable. “You don’t look like you’re coming out with us, sweaterpaws,” he observed lightly.

  “Did you want me to come out with you?” Iz asked. He was comfortable and not sure where his shoes were. But if Rocco wanted him to go out with them, he would think about it, although he didn’t think Rocco would stay with him all night.

  “If you want to go,” Rocco replied after a beat. He was friendly, jocular, and already distracted by Ronnie abruptly announcing he had to head out to his car to grab something. He watched Ronnie go before adding, “There’s nothing stopping you.”

  “I don’t think I’m good to have around when people are trying to hook up,” Iz said, only a little morose.

  Rocco’s full attention came back to him. He was warm with concern. “Because you’re a distraction?”

  “Ethereal twink is what that one guy called you, right, Iz?” Rahim was listening, apparently, despite messaging with someone, presumably Hot Nurse.

  “I don’t understand the rules,” Iz complained. “Chemistry eludes me. People want things physically. But also they want other things they can’t put into words. It. A spark. Their type. What’s your type, for example?” He gestured at Rocco with one floppy sleeve.

  Rocco raised his head, startled, then glanced around at the others. His smile was quick and overly bright. “I’d say anyone drunk enough to be interested, but I’d be kidding. Anybody that drunk could never consent.”

  Nothing dimmed on his face, but his gaze darted away. He smiled again, crooked.

  Patricio coughed.

  Iz studied Rocco while he replayed memories. “I’ve seen you pull people. Not-drunk people.” Perhaps not fully sober, but people rarely were at house parties. Iz had a lot of memories of that. Apparently, his brain had been paying attention to Rocco for a while. “They seemed enthusiastic.”

  Patricio coughed again, a few times, nearly drowning out the front door closing when Ronnie came back in.

  Rocco looked at Iz. “Sometimes people are desperate,” he said and shrugged. Iz did not understand the shrug, or the way Rocco waved loosely over his body. “Sometimes, rarely, this does it for them.” His expression hardened when Iz didn’t respond, then relaxed a second later into something almost fond. “Don’t worry,” Rocco added softly, “No one expects you to understand.”

  “What?” Iz would have glanced around if he could have looked away.

  “He means you’re beautiful, you bitch,” Alistair sang out from the bathroom.

  Iz turned to Eric, then Patricio, then Ronnie, who quickly went back to staring at his phone.

  Iz was aware of how people saw him. He wasn’t unobservant. People deemed attractive by modern American society were given things others weren’t, and Iz was thin and white with symmetrical features. Plenty of people objected to lots of things about his appearance, but they did agree on that.

  He wouldn’t have said beautiful, though.

  He put a hand to his cheek, fingers falling to brush over his mouth as he looked directly at Rocco. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  “Oooh my God,” Patricio muttered.

  Rocco was frozen. “Yeah,” he said at last, then cleared his throat. “Everyone does. Classical standards and all.”

  “Izzy, you—”

  “Racist standards,” Rahim hissed, cutting Ronnie off. “Pale skin, slim nose, wide eyes, flat stomach—those are all things Western culture prizes.”

  “Don’t forget classist bullshit,” Eric chimed in, although he was white and had all the attributes in that list. “Teeth, clear skin, height, weight. Those are class issues too.”

  “Class intersects with race.” Ronnie seemed hesitant. He didn’t often join in their angrier discussions and debates.

  Rahim put down his phone. “Well, someone’s been paying attention.”

  “One, you should see how dad’s family treats my sister and me because our mom is Filipina, and how mom’s relatives treat my sister because she’s darker than me.” Ronnie scowled, sunshine fading. “And, two, I do go to the same school as you. I can learn things, even if you think I’m stupid.” He took off to the kitchen without another word. Rocco followed him, hovering by the kitchen door for a moment without going in. Maybe Ronnie waved him off or had told him he was fine.

  Rocco frowned, at himself first and then briefly at Rahim.

  Eric looked over at Rahim too, one eyebrow raised. Rahim crossed his arms.

  “You knew all of those things already,” Iz reminded Rahim, not pleased that Ronnie was gone and probably hurt. “Did you say that to make Ronnie walk away?” He blinked a few times, and Rahim lifted an eyebrow at him in a way that told Iz he’d missed something again. “Deliberately keeping someone you like at a distance is very strange,” Iz observed at last, and sighed before flicking a look at Rocco. “With all of that, it feels kind of silly to be so happy at the compliment—implied compliment. But thank you. You’re beautiful too.”

  Time seemed to stop in the apartment. Noises were hushed. Eric’s eyes went wide. Then everything was abruptly in motion again. Alistair’s giggling echoed out of the bathroom. Patricio slid forward in his seat as though he was trying to get Iz’s attention. Rocco narrowed his eyes and worked his jaw.

  “You’re not funny, Iz.” He was very, very quiet.

  Iz’s heart thumped against his ribs at the warning in Rocco’s tone. He transferred his stare to Eric, who shook his head, and then up beyond Eric toward the bathroom, although Alistair didn’t emerge this time. Patricio sighed. Rahim gave Iz a sympathetic smile. Ronnie wasn’t there to explain.

  Rocco’s normally warm gaze was falsely bright. Iz knew that look. He had practiced it in the mirror when he was younger, all his real
thoughts hidden away so he wouldn’t upset his mother.

  “Oh,” Iz exhaled at the realization. “You don’t think you’re beautiful.”

  “I know I’m not beautiful,” Rocco returned without hesitation. “I’m the opposite of beautiful. You’re not doing me any favors by pretending otherwise. It’s insulting, actually.” Some of the flint left his voice, even while part of Iz wondered if that was how Rocco sounded before his competitions, solid and determined. “If you didn’t get that before, then okay. But I’m telling you now.”

  “I like your face,” Iz said softly, weakly. “I’ve always liked it. I’m not pretending.”

  Patricio put his palm over his eyes.

  Rocco studied Iz for long enough that Eric made a show of going back to flipping through his messages for information about parties and Rahim finally got up. Rahim paused in front of Rocco and whispered something, and then, once Rocco let him pass, went into the kitchen with a louder comment about needing a drink.

  Ronnie was still in there, but Iz didn’t hear any explosions. Only the door opening and closing again.

  Rocco stared after him despite that, possibly waiting for something. But whatever it was never happened.

  The tight line of his eyebrows slowly loosened. He was still frowning, but it wasn’t as angry as before. He heaved his shoulders in a not-quite sigh and tossed his head with an attitude of resignation. He tugged his beanie off, sending his hair in all directions.

  Iz wondered what it would feel like if he helped smooth it back down. Rocco only dragged one hand through it.

  “I don’t pretend.” Iz was no good at it, so didn’t bother. “Your face is interesting.”

  “If the genius says so.” Rocco’s voice was too level and he gave Iz a smile that wasn’t wide enough to show the gap in his teeth. Iz gave him a fervent nod and even that smile disappeared. Rocco pulled in a breath and seemed to come to some conclusion. “Am I the same as an undulatus asperatus? Is that what you mean?”