Izzy and the Right Answer

by R. Cooper

  “I had a tiny cold,” Ronnie told his mom. His voice was still rough, but he was right. The cold had been at its worst for about a day, leaving him with a lingering cough and a red nose.

  Iz’s throat felt funny, but he’d come out anyway, a scarf wrapped high around his neck although it was pretty warm inside the store.

  Rocco, who had the strongest immune system, apparently, had escaped unscathed.

  “Tiny!” Ronnie explained to his mother. “Barely even a cold. It lasted a day. Yes, I took care of myself, I promise. And I’m eating right.” He picked up a different flavor of ramen.

  Ronnie and Rocco both shopped on tight budgets, and Iz wasn’t a cook in any way and had no strong opinions on diet. But he did wonder how much of both boys’ meals consisted of noodles and protein bars, and if they would eat that way even if given all the money in the world.

  “Oh, Dad’s there?” Ronnie’s soft voice got even softer. “No, I don’t need to—I’m sure he’s great. Nay, please. Well, anyway, I’m fine now, so you don’t have to worry.” He turned to Iz again to playfully roll his eyes. “She never believes me.”

  Iz nodded and then held still while Ronnie tweaked one end of his scarf. “What? Oh, I’m with Izzy at the store. Mom, I don’t have time to go home this weekend. No, that sounds amazing. Of course, I want you to cook for me. But I don’t have time. What? I picked up a couple more hours, but mostly I’m just busy. Uh, looking at grad schools versus credentials…. Stuff….”

  Ronnie reached down to grab Iz’s hand. He squeezed it, stressed or annoyed, then let go. “Really. I’m okay. Fine.” He held his phone in front of Iz’s face and sighed dramatically. “She wants to talk to you.”

  Iz shifted his basket full of orange juice and instant oatmeal to his other arm so he could take the phone. “Hello? Dee?”

  “Jamie!” Dee wasn’t loud, but Iz always felt extra welcomed when she spoke to him. He smiled and Ronnie made an exasperated face as if Iz or his mother were a trial. Iz didn’t understand how. Dee was usually only upset because in her opinion not enough people worried about Ronnie. Iz agreed with her.

  “Dee.” Iz made a face back at Ronnie and, for some reason, this brought Ronnie to him again to play with his scarf some more. “I haven’t spoken to you since Ronnie’s birthday.”

  “I expected you over Christmas.” Dee hummed in a way that was somehow judgmental. “But I appreciated the email.”

  “You emailed my mom?” Ronnie demanded, slowing his hand and meeting Iz’s stare.

  “She invited me to,” Iz explained, uncertain if he should apologize.

  “Of course.” Ronnie shut his eyes, exhaled, then opened them.

  Iz shook his head, but Ronnie’s bittersweet expression was fleeting. His stare got warmer with every second Iz couldn’t look away.

  “How are you? You’re good? You’re eating?” The series of questions from Dee knocked Iz from the moment, and the tension Ronnie could create in him with one gentle press of his fingertips to Iz’s skin.

  “I’m fine.” Iz’s voice was too high. Ronnie’s lips quirked, but he moved back and then stepped to the side to peer at all the boxes of flavored rice. Iz felt strangled and abruptly cheated and had no idea what to make of it. “Actually, I might be getting a cold.” Iz didn’t want to admit it, partly because of Dee’s gasp and partly because of the way Ronnie spun around to study him guiltily. “But I have juice.” Iz wiggled the basket she couldn’t see.

  “Give the phone back to Ronnie,” Dee ordered, so Iz did. Ronnie accepted the phone, still staring at Iz, and nodded along to whatever his mom said in faint, echoing Tagalog and English. When she went quiet, Ronnie handed the phone back to Iz.

  “Ronnie’s going to get you some soup,” Dee informed him. Iz glanced at Ronnie, who had probably given him the cold in the first place, but said nothing. “You’ll both eat it,” Dee continued, then shuffled around and turned down the volume of something, probably a TV. “Ronnie tells me he’s busy.”

  “He has been,” Iz answered her silent question. “His classes, and considering schools, and his job. And he got a boyfriend.”

  Ronnie stopped walking so abruptly his running shoe squeaked on the floor.

  The other end of the call went silent for several seconds. “Boyfriend?” Dee demanded quietly. “What boyfriend? Who is this boyfriend? What about you?”

  “What about me?” Iz was pulled back from running into a pallet of mac and cheese by Ronnie’s hand on his shoulder. “Ronnie and I aren’t together.”

  “Not now. But someday!” Dee insisted. “He adores you and you treat him like he’s special.”

  “He is special,” Iz argued.

  “You see this. It’s why I like you. Who is this boyfriend, then? How does he treat my Aldo?”

  Ronnie snatched the phone from Iz. “Nay, we have been over this. You can’t decide someone is your future son-in-law and expect that to happen. I—” Ronnie spun around, away from Iz. “I’ll be right back,” he told Iz, then walked to the end of the aisle while having a hushed, half-English, furiously embarrassed conversation with his mother.

  Ronnie ran his hand through his hair three times. He looked at Iz twice. Iz considered texting Rocco to ask if he had met or talked to Dee yet since she was probably going to want to talk to him now, but Ronnie might have better advice for that. Also… also, Iz had never texted Rocco and didn’t think it would be appreciated for this.

  “It’s complicated,” Ronnie finally said with a sigh. “But he’s not going anywhere. And you’ll like him—Rocco. You would have met him before but he works when he’s not in class. He’s a very hard worker. Good in school too. No, no one else is that smart, but Iz likes him. Iz likes him a lot.” Ronnie swallowed. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah? We’re freaking him out right now. I love you. Tell Dad, you know, whatever.”

  He ended the call then stood still for almost a minute, tapping his phone screen but not typing. Then he put his phone away and came back.

  Iz stuck his hand in his pocket so his nail polish would stay undisturbed. “Sorry.”

  “It’s not like I wouldn’t have told her. I’ve been waiting for a way to sort of ease her into it.” Ronnie’s smile wasn’t his brightest, but it was there.

  Dee knew Ronnie was gay. According to Ronnie, when he’d told her, she had said she’d already known. So that wasn’t what he meant.

  “She thought you’d date me?” Iz should have noticed what Ronnie must not have been hiding very well. Iz hadn’t had a clue, but Ronnie’s mother had caught on through phone calls and meeting Iz a handful of times.

  “She likes you. For some reason, she thinks you’re a good influence on me.” Ronnie nudged him. “Come on, let’s go get some soup. We’ll get Rocco some too, just in case.”

  “You should prepare him.” Iz frowned. “She’s apparently been expecting you to bring me home. She might give Rocco a hard time, and he is difficult to know.” It was quite a problem. “If it helps, I could tell her how great he is, and how much I think he loves you.”

  “It might,” Ronnie said, and then let out a small, helpless laugh.

  “It’s not a joke.” Iz didn’t really make jokes. “He loves you so much—although love itself is not measurable. But actions are. Words are. The way he has arranged his life around you even before you ever kissed him. Did I ever tell you how brave you are for that, Ronnie? I meant to. You are quietly admirable, and I think now that this is probably what made Rahim so annoyed with you. You’re wonderful, but your affection wasn’t really directed toward him.”

  “I—no?” Ronnie shook his head. “No, you didn’t. And, uh, that’s—how do you manage to say the most romantic things when you aren’t even sure you like romance?”

  “Why do you hesitate over voicing your opinions with the group or in class, but lead Rocco around with one crook of your finger?” Iz truly didn’t understand. “I like you this way. He cannot take his eyes off you when you tease him.” The pressure in Iz’s ches
t was not relieved even when he sighed. “We will have to make sure Dee can witness that. Then she’ll love him too.”

  “’We,’” Ronnie said faintly before another laugh burst from him. He tossed his head but then laughed again so hard his shoulders shook. “Oh shit,” he whispered when he finally got himself under control. “Oh fucking shit. Like, I knew this was going to get difficult, but I didn’t think it’d be this soon.”

  “What?” The tickle in Iz’s throat was getting stronger. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to attend Ronnie’s game in the park and didn’t like that idea.

  “The enormity of the situation.” Ronnie stared at the two dozen packets of ramen he’d picked up so far, then whispered, “I don’t even have a vegetable. How can she trust me to be an adult about this when I don’t even have a vegetable in my basket?”

  “She’ll love him.” Iz slid his hand into Ronnie’s and tugged. “And you are on a budget. And we can buy vegetables once we get soup.”

  “Not canned. Fresh soup from the deli if they still have any.” Ronnie trailed after him. “I’m going to have to see her in person to talk about this. I’ll have to take him too, if not for the first visit, then the second. She’ll be frosty about it since this is not the situation she imagined. He’s going to be so nervous. You’re going to have to help calm him down.”

  That was a surprise. “Will I be there?”

  Ronnie halted mid-step, then firmed his grip and sped up. “Yeah, if I have a say in it. Which I do. And anyway,” he glanced over, “you’re always wanted, Izzy.”

  There it was, another stare that left Iz too excited for nighttime in a grocery store.

  “I want you around too,” Iz responded honestly. “Even though now when you’re close, I sometimes feel the way I did then, when we were freshmen.”

  Ronnie raised his eyebrows, then lowered them. “Do you mean scared?”

  Iz shook his head. “I thought it was fear at the time. I know better now.”

  “Oh,” Ronnie said quietly. Then added, “Oh,” and stopped dead. He stared at the floor, but Iz could see his growing smile.

  A woman passed them. She was lugging a giant bag of dog food and was too busy struggling to pay them any attention.

  “I’d like to bring you home with me.” Ronnie kept his gaze down as if that could hide his glow. “With us. Whenever that happens.”

  His happiness was infectious. “If you want me.” Iz believed in him. Ronnie had never been wrong, even when Iz had thought he was at first. “But won’t it be weird?”

  Ronnie lightly urged them back into motion. “Exceptional was your word, wasn’t it?” he asked. He paused only long enough to grab one bottle of hot sauce from an aisle endcap. He put his hand in Iz’s again before carrying on toward the deli, and soup.

  “Ronnie.” Iz waited for him to notice. “You’re still holding my hand.”

  “Yeah?” Ronnie stopped again. He looked down at their hands, then slowly looked back up. “Do you not want me to?”

  “I thought… I am trying to do what people are supposed to do.” Iz didn’t have a better explanation. “I know we did this before, but couples hold hands. Oh.” Iz should have noticed this, but he had never been on this side of things before. “We hold hands and I email your mother. No wonder Dee thought what she did. We were couple-like already, weren’t we?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, we were. Yeah, we are, Iz, whether or not we’re having sex.” Ronnie was firm on this point, not letting Iz glance away. It was a Rocco sort of trick, except that Ronnie wasn’t even trying to be commanding. “You and I—you might not have realized that you loved me, but you did, and you acted on it. That—still kind of hurts to think about. But it doesn’t matter right now because it’s true and I love you back. Oh shit,” he said again, exhaling the swear words in amazement. “I’m just… saying it now, I guess.” He refocused on Iz, intense and breathtaking. “So… so think about what you want to do, and if you think I’d want you to do it, and not whatever you think you’re supposed to be doing. I don’t think there is a particular etiquette for this situation, first of all.” Ronnie let go of Iz’s hand, but to fuss over the ends of Iz’s scarf. Someday, Iz was going to ask why he did that. “And secondly—wait, is this why you text Rocco by texting me instead of messaging him yourself?”

  “Did he complain?” Iz worried immediately.

  “He wondered.” Ronnie sniffled as if his cold wasn’t that far gone. “Ugh, I have to get up by six, too,” he murmured, likely to himself. Then he leaned in and met Iz’s stare again. “It’s late, and I’m tired, and we’re all figuring this out on the fly, Iz, but listen. As long as nobody’s hiding anything, you don’t need to get anxious—lowercase ‘a’ anxious, I mean. You can talk to him or me or both of us. He’d like to talk to you more. But he’s an awkward dork under the muscles.”

  “You have muscles,” Iz pointed out.

  “Different muscles.” Ronnie was barely fazed. “Whatever it is you think we’re all supposed to do right now… stop worrying about that, too. I mean, Rocco and I are worrying enough for everyone, anyway. But also—stop. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Iz, but in all the romcoms and stuff you think are evidence of ‘normal,’ there aren’t a lot of people like us. And when we are there, the love story is never about us, or we’re dying miserably, or our endings are afterthoughts. Those movies are not made with us in mind and they aren’t about what we want or need. We are going to have to decide that on our own.”

  Iz had noticed. Of course, he had. But they were what was available. “So mainstream romantic dramas and comedies shouldn’t be the baseline?”

  “Nope. Fuck no.” Ronnie shook his head firmly. “Not on your life. They are not the model for us. They are barely the model for themselves.”

  Iz considered that before slowly nodding. Then he stepped forward and hid his face against Ronnie’s arm. He breathed in the scent of cough drops and laundry detergent. “Then I get to do this again.”

  “I missed you too,” Ronnie whispered above Iz’s head and put his hand on Iz’s back for the few moments before Iz pulled away.

  “Sorry. My throat’s beginning to hurt.” He was chilled without Ronnie close, although that may have been the cold.

  But Ronnie taking his hand again helped. “Soup,” he declared.

  A few men in their late twenties or early thirties were in the deli section, looking over premade dinners. They seemed too hungry to pay much attention to Iz being dragged to the selection of the day’s leftover soups.

  “Text Rocco, would you?” Ronnie asked while sniffing the chicken noodle. “Ask if he’s home so we can drop some off. And be sure to let him know that while he’s hanging out with Ali tomorrow night, you and I will be marathoning Avatar. You need to see it.”

  “What if I’m still sick then?” Iz probably would be.

  Ronnie rolled his eyes and leaned in again, and, for a moment, seemed like he was going to kiss Iz’s cheek. “Like a cold could stop us, at this point. Even my mom didn’t.”

  He let go of Iz to start ladling soup into to-go bowls, and, with nothing else to do, Iz coughed a little and got out his phone to talk to Rocco.

  Outside in the brisk late winter-slash-early-spring air was the last place Iz should have been. He had a stubborn cough that had lasted through the weekend and prevented him from going with Rocco to Ronnie’s game. His nose was red and slightly sore. Nonetheless, Iz was on the library steps in a peacoat and pajama pants, tissues up his sleeves and cough drops flavored like herbs in his pockets.

  He was here because he wanted to be, and he had thought about it, and it seemed okay.

  “This is a bad idea,” Patricio remarked, which would have been startling, except that Patricio was sniffling as he got over the same cold, and clutching a cup of something warm, probably hot chocolate. He wasn’t talking about Iz’s internal conflicts. He was talking about the weather. “I know I won’t study inside, but you know what? I wouldn’t be dying.”

  “You
tend toward hyperbole when sick.” But Iz gave him a worried look. “We can go inside if you’re uncomfortable.”

  “You’re uncomfortable too,” Patricio said, not unreasonably. But he didn’t move. “I assume we’re here for a purpose. And that purpose is probably why you look better—red nose aside. Might it have something to do with the fact that some people we know who run recreationally often end their runs over there?” He flapped a hand toward the jogging trail. “If so, I have some questions.”

  “We’re friends.” Iz had anticipated some curiosity and concern. “Rocco and Ronnie and I are friends, and friends see each other and spend time together sometimes.”

  “Yes,” Patricio agreed. “And you’re in love with both of them and they are dating each other.”

  Iz sucked on what was left of his current cough drop. The herbs were harsh but the honey was sweet. “I know that.”

  Patricio made a noise in his throat that might have been annoyance or might have been phlegm. “I know you know that. But do you feel that?”

  “I have been trying to pay attention to what I’m feeling. They asked me to.” Iz crunched the last bit between his teeth and then swallowed. He pulled out another cough drop and handed it to Patricio, who accepted it without looking away from Iz’s face.

  “They asked you to?”

  Iz got himself another one as well and stuck the wrapper in his other pocket. “They asked me to think and to consider what I want instead of what I think I should want, and since they didn’t give me a deadline or an end date, I assume this is meant to be an ongoing process. Self-examination is somewhat exhausting.”

  “Fuck yeah it is.” Patricio put down his cup to unwrap his cough drop.

  “But worthwhile.” Iz hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t want to hurt them more, and they don’t want to hurt me. We’re… communicating.”

  Patricio studied him for a minute before turning to stare at the end of the jogging trail. “What exactly are you communicating?”