An Exaltation of Larks

by Suanne Laqueur

  “Are you a senior?” she asked.

  “Junior.”

  “Same.”

  “Do you work here?” he asked.

  “I volunteer,” she said. “Gets me community service hours. And I like it. Sometimes it’s easier dealing with animals than people.”

  “I know.”

  “But you also deal with a lot of people who treat animals like shit. That’s the hard part.”

  Ari hummed as she knelt to pet Roman. The wind blew along the fine wisps at her hairline. The pink was rising up in her cheeks. Even through jeans he could see the definition of her quadriceps. Two silver bracelets jingled at her wrist as she scratched Roman under the chin.

  Say something.

  He swallowed. “You speak Spanish?”

  She shrugged. “A little. My dad’s from Chile.”

  “Think you want to be a vet someday?”

  She smiled and he saw she only had one dimple, not two like her father. “My science grades are shit,” she said. “I love animals and I think about running a shelter or something. But I don’t know if I could go the full-on veterinarian degree.”

  “You play sports?”

  “I ski. Lacrosse in spring. You play anything?”

  “I used to wrestle. Not anymore.” As their hands stroked the dog in tandem, their fingers kept bumping, then parting.

  “I’m really sorry about your mom,” she said. “It must’ve been horrible.”

  He looked into the grey eyes. This close, he noticed flecks of gold close to the pupil. Her eyes weren’t icy at all. They were warm. Friendly. “Thanks,” he said. “It was pretty fucked up.”

  “I don’t want to make you talk about it, I just…”

  “I know,” he said. “It’s all right.”

  “What will happen to you now?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “I have this uncle. I didn’t know I did, my mom never talked about him. But she named him my guardian in her will and he showed up yesterday and…” The rush of words trailed off as he worried he was coming off too pathetic. He shrugged with a careless chuckle. “Sounds like a Charles Dickens story.”

  “Only if he’s rich,” she said.

  Ari laughed. His face felt stiff around it, as if it had forgotten how to handle a joke.

  “Is he cool?” Deane asked. “What’s your gut feeling about him?”

  “He’s all right, I guess. He’s not treating me like a baby and he’s…honest. I think he’s just as thrown off by this as I am. He and my mother hadn’t spoken in twenty-five years.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why?”

  The story was on the tip of his tongue but he checked it, biting on the realization it was only half the story. Jav’s half. And the other half was lost forever.

  Deane shook her head. “Never mind, it’s none of my biz,” she said. “I’m glad you had someone who can help you. And man, I’m glad Roman’s all right. My dad said he’s never seen this kind of poisoning before. It was pretty hairy that first night.”

  “I know,” Ari said. “And from gum. Who saw that coming?” Gum made him think of his mother’s purse spilled across the floor, the strap laying across her open palm.

  Did she see it coming? Did she die right away? Did it take a while? Was she scared? Was she sorry? Did she call out for me?

  He squeezed his eyes, like hitting the power button on the TV remote. He put his face against Roman’s head and let the dog’s panting breath warm his ear.

  Deane sat cross-legged now. “Do you think you’ll stay at your school the rest of the year?”

  “I guess. I’m right in the middle of my portfolio, it would suck having to switch schools now.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “Like an art portfolio?”

  “Yeah. I’m in this fast track program for visual arts.”

  “I love art,” she said. “I only do it for fun, though.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Mostly paper collage. I’m obsessed with paper, it’s really stupid. I collect it the way my mother collects fabric swatches. I like watercolors, too.”

  “I suck at watercolors,” Ari said. “I can’t control a brush to save my life. Give me pencils or markers any day.”

  “I’m obsessed with magic markers.”

  “I love a new pack,” he said. “You know how you open a new thing of markers and they’re all lined up in color order, and none of the tips are smashed or dry. It’s like you’ve got the world at your fingertips.”

  “New box of Crayola crayons,” she said. “Sixty-four colors. All the points are perfect and none of the labels are peeling.”

  “Don’t touch them,” Ari said. “You want to color, use the shoebox full of peeled, broken crayons. These are for display only.”

  She was laughing and nodding, her ponytail sliding across one temple. Ari’s eyes picked out the different shades, remembering Crayola colors like tumbleweed, desert sand, raw sienna.

  And beaver.

  He swallowed and looked away. Nice, dude.

  The outside door banged open then and they both turned. A blond boy stood there.

  Jesus, what’s with the blonds in this town, Ari thought.

  This one was tall and husky and good-looking. An alpha aura filling the doorframe, wearing an identical jacket to Deane’s.

  “Hey, you,” Deane said.

  “Here you are. What’s going on, baby?”

  Ari had been expanding in Deane’s friendly presence and just starting to touch the edges of attraction. Now he felt his bones shrink inside his clothes as he immediately guessed who had shown up.

  Shit.

  “I thought you were working at Celeste’s today,” the boy said, reaching a hand down to her.

  “No, it’s Saturday,” Deane said, taking it and letting herself be pulled up. “I’m here.”

  “Damn, that’s a cool-looking dog,” the boy said. “What happened to him?”

  “Case, this is Ari,” Deane said.

  “Hey,” Ari said, transferring the IV bag into his left hand so he could shake the hand being offered.

  “Casey,” the boy said, holding the shake an extra moment, as if measuring, then letting go and sinking onto a knee. He held a hand out to Roman, who took an extra moment of his own to sniff it out. When he acquiesced to being petted, he looked sideways at Ari with a resigned expression.

  Thanks, bud, Ari thought. I feel the same.

  “Is he a retriever?” Casey asked. “I’ve never seen one this copper color.”

  “He’s a Toller,” Ari said. “It’s a Canadian breed.”

  “Gotcha.” Still scratching Roman’s head, Casey looked up at Deane. “What time you get out?”

  “Four.”

  “Can you get sprung any earlier?”

  Deane blinked coolly. “No. Sorry. It’s really busy today.”

  “What about tonight,” Casey said. “Russ and Joey might get a keg from Joey’s brother, tap it over at Grayson’s Field.”

  “Kind of cold for an outdoor kegger,” Deane said, her eyes glancing at Ari and moving away again.

  “C’mon.” Casey reached up and took Deane’s hand, making her bracelets jingle.

  “I’ll see.” She looked more directly at Ari now. “You need help taking Roman in?”

  “Nah, I’m good,” Ari said, arranging his face into a careless smile. “Nice meeting you. I’ll see you around here, I guess.”

  He pulled up to the top of his six feet as he walked toward the building, imagining his shoulders pulling wide and the air getting the hell out of his way. He didn’t look back to see if Deane was watching him go. He led Roman inside and caught the door with a foot before it could slam.

  When Jav came back to the shelter, Ari looked worn down to a thread. From the far end of the kennel, Jav stared as his nephew said goodnight to his dog. Deep in his bones he felt a strange tug. Something that felt like ownership, but at an instinctive level. Could it be the bond of blood?

  I just met him, he thought. Yest
erday, I wouldn’t turn my head if I passed him on the street. Today he feels like mine.

  “I talked to your lawyer and the police chief in Morgantown,” Jav said as they headed outside. “I can take you over to your house. If there’s anything you want to get from there.”

  “Yeah,” Ari said. “Would you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  Ari fell asleep on the drive across the bridge, again in the boneless sprawl of the young, his head curled down against the window in a way that made Jav’s neck ache. He exploded awake with a cry when Jav touched his arm.

  “Disculpa, disculpa,” Jav said softly, patting him. “I need you to navigate.”

  “Jesus,” Ari said, rubbing his face. “I keep crashing.”

  “Sorry, I know you’re tired.”

  Morgantown crouched like a rat beneath the span of the bridge. Ari directed him through a depressing business district into a run-down residential area. They turned onto a street that was slightly smarter looking, but still a far cry from Guelisten’s handsome and healthy lanes high above the river. A police car was parked out front and a tatter of yellow ribbon fluttered from one of the front stoop railings.

  “Do me a favor,” Ari said, looking out the window as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Wait here. I won’t take long.”

  Jav detected a vein of embarrassment in the thickened voice and agreed. He wasn’t sure himself if he wanted to go in anyway.

  The cop let Ari in, then walked down to Jav’s car. Jav got out and they chatted a while.

  “Shame,” the officer kept saying. His badge read Morales. “It’s a goddamn shame. Tell you man, I can see the most fucked-up crime scenes—shootings, stabbings, babies thrown in the garbage, guys who set their wives on fire. And I’m numb to it. I can turn the feeling off, you know? But I see something like this? Hardworking single mother who never bothered nobody trips on the stairs and her boy is left alone in the world? It haunts me for weeks. I want to go home and cushion all my own stairwells. Tell my wife to go down the steps on her butt.”

  “It’s crazy,” Jav said.

  Morales pulled at his ear as if it were bothering him. “He’ll come live with you now?”

  “I’ll take care of him, but I’ve got a tiny place in Manhattan that doesn’t take pets. Plus I have to think about his school and his health needs and a bunch of other things. I want him disrupted as little as possible, you know?”

  Again, the odd, inherent sense of responsibility. Deep in his bones, as if coded into his DNA and awakened only when in the presence of similar DNA.

  Ari came out with two duffle bags.

  “Well, in the meantime, would you feed that kid’s ass?” Morales said quietly. “Good lord, one good gust off the river and we’ll be picking him up in Poughkeepsie.”

  “Got everything you need?” Jav called. “For now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Take it one day at a time, my friend,” Morales said, and Jav thought he could hear the more anxious subtext: one step at a time, and watch your step, go down on your butt if you need to.

  “I want you to eat something,” Jav said, making his voice firm as he pulled into a diner. Ari made no objection, but only ordered some soup. The waitress set down a magnificent Mom-made-this-with-love bowl swimming with tender chicken and wide noodles. Bright orange carrots and slivers of onion and celery. Flecked with fresh parsley. Ari started with slow spoonfuls but accelerated as his stomach warmed up. He drank the last dregs and exhaled, showing the empty vessel to Jav.

  “Proud member of the clean plate club.”

  Jav smiled. “How much you weigh?”

  “None of your business,” Ari said, puncturing the amiable balloon between them.

  “Wow, you killed that quick,” the waitress said, picking up the bowl.

  “You want another?” Jav asked.

  Ari nodded and the waitress put a fist on her hip, smiling around her gum. “How about a cup this time. And a grilled cheese with it, maybe?”

  Ari ate it all. Plus a chocolate milkshake and a side of fries that Jav picked at.

  “You’re a junior, right?” Jav said. “Have you started looking at colleges yet?”

  Ari nodded, wiping his mouth. “Mostly the SUNYs. Purchase and New Paltz have good visual art programs.”

  “That’s what you want to pursue?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What medium?”

  Jav was expecting a shrug but Ari answered without hesitation. “Illustration and sequential art. Animation, too, and minor in creative writing.”

  Jav closed his eyes, letting the pieces fit together. “Sounds like you want to be a graphic novelist.”

  “I do.”

  “What drew you to that?”

  Now the shrug, but justified, because it was never any one thing but an array of influences. “I always loved comics,” Ari said. “I’d trace and color them when I was little. Then I started making my own. And I kind of have a reading disability. I can’t process big chunks of text. My eyes freak out and start wandering all over the place. I have to use this card when I read: it has a two-inch wide window cut in it so I cover the page and only see a block of text at a time.”

  “That’s smart.”

  “My remedial reading teacher thought of it. She was awesome, had a lot of cool and creative ideas. When my class started reading harder books, I was having a really tough time. She was the one who got me the graphic novel version of Canterbury Tales. When I’d read them side-by-side, it clicked all of a sudden. I could understand what I was reading and I liked what I was reading. For the first time in my life, I was reading on my own for pleasure. Graphic novels changed my life.”

  Ari was barely drawing a breath. It was the most animated Jav had seen him.

  “I started collecting them,” Ari said. “I convinced the school libraries to get copies because I couldn’t be the only kid with this issue, right? Graphic novels can be a godsend for kids who struggle with reading comprehension. I did a whole exhibit on it for the freshman science fair.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Well, I had to get my English teacher on board. We divided the class into three groups. One read the straight text. The second read the text side-by-side with the graphic novel. And the third read only the graphic novel.”

  “What was this for, what book?”

  “Tale of Two Cities.”

  “Gotcha. And then you compared test scores at the end?”

  Ari nodded around his straw. “Drilling down into short answer, reading comprehension and essay questions. The essays were where you could really see the difference. Kids who read the text side-by-side with the graphic novel blew the other groups away.”

  “No shit? And you took this study to the science fair?”

  “Yeah. I won second place. Got beat by a kid who built a robot. Figures.” He slumped back in his seat, as if the exchange drained him. “Did you go to college?”

  “In fits and starts. I got an associate degree from Hostos. Then a bachelor’s from CUNY. It took a bunch of years because I was working at the same time.”

  Ari chewed on a fry. “Must’ve been hard. Being on your own, I mean. What did you do for work?”

  “Anything I could. I lived hand to mouth for a long time. Waiting tables, tending bar. I did a few things I’m not too proud of, but you do what you have to to survive.”

  The words were spilling out, starting a story he couldn’t finish. Not with a seventeen-year-old kid. Under the table, he kicked his own ankle in a cue to rein it in. “Anyway,” he said. “I met a woman who helped me get my act together and eventually, I got into writing.”

  Ari slurped at the last of his milkshake. Hungry, rattling bubbles from the bottom of the glass, intent on getting every last bit. “Can I see your tattoos?” he asked.

  Jav pushed his sleeves up further and showed the inked designs.

  “Nice,” Ari said. “They have a story?”

  “Everything has a story,” Jav said.
“These don’t have a particularly happy one.”

  “I’m guessing you save it for date five or six?”

  Jav was about to jokingly agree, when he felt a ghostly hand touch the nape of his neck and a remembered voice say, Tell him. Simple story. You have until the light changes.

  “I lost a good friend on Nine-Eleven,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” Ari said.

  Jav touched the dragonfly. “This one was his. I mean he had it on his arm and I copied it. The wheel is… Kind of hard to explain, but to me, he was one of those Captain, My Captain kind of guys. Know what I mean?”

  Ari nodded. “Like he’s on the other side helping to steer you now.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That sucks. I’m really sorry.”

  “Thanks.” Jav pulled his sleeves down. “So. You have any savings for college?”

  Ari rolls his lips into a tight line. “Some,” he said. “Tom Kingston… Let’s say he didn’t only screw my mother.”

  Jav felt his eyes widen. “He cleaned you out, too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jesus…”

  “We got some of it back after he was convicted. But… Heroin, man. It’s like a jealous God. Demands everything, takes everything.” Ari’s eyes focused intently on his fingers, which were shredding a napkin.

  “Do you have any after school jobs?”

  “I work three days a week at the library and Starbucks on the weekend.”

  “Mm.” Jav laced his fingers together and set his chin on top. He tapped his thumbs, thinking about all he had to do.

  “How long do I have to stay at Lark House?” Ari asked.

  “Well. I can take you back to my place in Manhattan. But one, it’s a small place. Two, it interrupts your school year and takes you away from your jobs and the precious few things familiar to you. Including your dog. Who wouldn’t be allowed in my building.”

  Ari’s eyes stabbed Jav’s with bald alarm. “So I have to stay in Guelisten then?”