But when she came off the field and kicked off her cleats, Deane softened into something like butterscotch. Her expression went dreamy. It turned into a book, or went looking for a pencil to sketch, a brush to paint, scissors to cut paper. Her strong arms reached to hold and soothe frightened cats. Her voice dropped into a gentle hush as she bathed abandoned dogs, trimming matted fur and picking off ticks. When she thought nobody was around, she sang Spanish nursery songs to the animals, just like Alex.
Ari couldn’t figure out if the athlete was the real Deane and the artist a secret alter-ego. Or the other way around. He liked both manifestations.
Sometimes he thought he loved both.
The drama of prom was behind them. Deane and Stella gave the collective male race the finger and went stag, accompanied by Henry. The service dog was resplendent in a black satin vest Val made for the occasion and at the end of the evening, he was unanimously voted Prom King.
With the grind of final exams and Regents finally over, Deane was relieved to be getting away from Guelisten’s social politics. She was going to Chile with the ski team on a three-week exchange trip.
“In June?” Ari said.
“June’s the start of the season in the southern hemisphere.”
“Oh duh,” he said. “That’s cool.”
Actually, that sucked. Ari was looking forward to school being out and longer hours to hang with Deane at Celeste’s or the shelter.
As her trip date approached, he worried through an anxious fear she would forget him.
Don’t meet a hot guy over there, he thought. Don’t not come back. Don’t forget me.
He’d give anything to be going along. But he didn’t ski.
Then he got an idea.
He drove over the bridge and back to Morgantown, where he remembered a Catholic Book and Gift shop. “Who’s the patron saint of skiing?” he asked the shop worker.
She looked it up and while the canon showed no saint specifically for skiing, St. Bernard was the patron of mountaineers and alpinists. The woman checked her inventory and held up a handsome silver medal with the saint surrounded by snowflakes and the entreaty engraved on the back. It hung off a thin black leather cord. It reminded Ari of Deane’s silvery grey eyes, fringed with black lashes.
“It’s perfect,” he said.
The day before she left, he took it over to Tulip Street. Deane was upstairs in the guest room, packing. A heat wave had come through Guelisten and Deane’s skin was flushed and her hairline damp as she folded and packed her layers of ski gear.
“I can’t imagine wearing all this in a few days,” she said, drawing a forearm across her damp brow.
“I guess you’ll be glad for it, though. Are you excited?”
“Kind of freaked. I’ve never been this far from home alone before. I mean, I won’t be alone. But I’m used to traveling far with my parents.”
Ari leaned against the dresser. “Why isn’t your Dad chaperoning? You’d think he’d jump at the chance to go back to Chile to ski.”
Deane’s mouth twisted as her shoulder shrugged. “Everyone thought that except him. I guess it’s too upsetting. Even after all this time.”
“Jav told me a little about what happened. How he hasn’t seen his parents since he was eleven.”
Deane nodded. “All the emotional stuff, plus he hates to fly.”
“Really?”
“When he was in college he did this internship out in Colorado. He drove out west rather than fly. He needs like three Valium to get through security.”
“Huh.” Ari always had trouble reconciling this dark, troubled side of Alex. At the shelter or in passing, Ari never saw Alex depressed, agitated or fearful. He was always smiling and gentle and even-keeled. His touch with animals was magic. He could charm the nastiest, spitting cats and soothe the most high-strung, mistrustful dogs. Rabbits, ferrets, guinea pigs and rats: they looked daggers at their owners, then turned and ate out of Alex’s hand.
Everyone nibbled on Alex’s chill demeanor. “Not a problem,” he said when things got stressful. “No worries. We’ll work it out.”
He projected such a Zen façade, you’d never guess he carried around a strange, ghostly pain from the past. That he’d nearly had a nervous breakdown once. That Sheba often woke him up from nightmares and he had odd little phobias tucked in his pockets.
Esmeralda jumped up on the dresser and started rubbing against Ari, breaking him out of his thoughts. “I brought you something for the trip,” he said.
“You did?” Deane said, putting down a fleece.
“It’s nothing.” He held out the tiny pouch. “I mean, it’s just a thing. For good luck.”
“Dude, you shouldn’t have.”
She unwrapped the medal and held it up to the light, squinting. “Saint Bernard?”
“Patron saint of mountaineers. And skiers, if you take a little poetic license.”
She laughed. “Oh my God, it’s perfect.” She put it on right away. “I love it. I’ll wear it the whole time. Me and Bernie.”
Ari smiled as his stomach collapsed in relief. She liked it. She wouldn’t forget about him.
“All right,” he said. “I gotta go. Have a great time.” They hugged quick and with a last wave, he turned to leave.
“Ari, wait.”
He turned back, his chest immediately tight. Deane walked toward him, one hand touching the St. Bernard medal. The other slid around the back of Ari’s neck. Her face came close, then stopped with her mouth an eighth of an inch from his. Ari closed his eyes, feeling the floor sway under his feet.
A long breathing moment. Then he felt her smile.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered, opening his eyes. His smile curled up, matching hers. They didn’t kiss. Not yet. Only smiled close together, breathing each other.
Ari could smell chocolate and taste butterscotch. His hand touched Deane’s hip. Inched into the curve of her waist. And finally settled in the small of her back. Her lips touched his gently and her fingers tightened in the hair at the back of his head.
“How about we talk more about this when I get back?” she said.
“Okay.”
Their mouths brushed again. A long shared inhale and exhale.
“Bye,” he said. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
Deane’s ski trip overlapped with Jav’s own jaunt to South America. One of his longtime clients was on the board of Banco Santander and hired him for a long weekend down to Buenos Aires.
Jav had left Ari alone overnight a few times, but now he’d be gone four nights and five days. He felt confident about it. Ari was a good kid. Being raised by a single mother had given him both heightened independence and heightened responsibility. He was making friends in town, but Jav sensed Ari respected Trelawney far too much to host a keg party in her apartment. Plus, working two jobs kept him busy. And monitored. Between the shelter and Celeste’s and Roman living at Tulip Street, one of the Larks would always have an eye on him.
While Jav packed, Ari lay around and ate. Used to eating out or shopping for one, Jav was still getting the hang of feeding his nephew. He was pleased Ari was finally putting on some weight, but good lord, the kid was a bottomless pit at one end and a mass consumer of toilet paper at the other.
“Remember Val said to go over for dinner,” he called out to the living room. “Anytime you want.”
Ari grunted. He was flopped on the couch with a book, his card with the cut-out window pressed to the pages, keeping the visible text to a minimum. Jav passed back and forth three times before noticing Ari was reading Client Privilege, his short story collection.
He had a panicked, parental moment of Hey, you can’t read that. Then a flattered curiosity took its place. He kept quiet and continued packing. Feedback wasn’t any fun when you had to fish for it.
“Know something, T?” Ari called.
“T?” Jav said.
“T for Tío. That all right?”
“You write short,” Ari said.
“What do you mean?”
Ari came in with the book and wormed between piles of clothes to lay on the bed. “You write short chapters. And inside the chapters, you write short paragraphs. Like each one fits exactly inside my little card window here.”
“I write the way I like to read,” Jav said.
“But it reads like a comic strip. These blocks of action would totally work as a graphic novel.”
“You think?”
“I’m surprised no one’s approached you about it.”
“Huh. I’ll mention it to my agent.”
“You should.” Ari fanned through the pages with his thumb. “What’s your next book about?”
“I don’t have the elevator pitch yet, but shortest summary is a woman who’s in an abusive relationship finds a way out after Nine-Eleven.”
“How?”
“She worked in the World Trade Center and everyone who knew her before Nine-Eleven now believes she’s dead.”
“Wow,” Ari said. “You think that could’ve actually happened?”
Jav got the Post Secret card and showed him. “I don’t know if it’s real or not, but it made me think a story was in it. If the muse pitches me an idea, I swing.”
“What’s the title?”
Jav hesitated. Typically the title was the last thing to reveal itself to him and the last thing he revealed to others. Once something became typical, it became superstition. But this book was different. And this was a good conversation.
“I think,” he said, “it’s going to be called The Trade.”
“The Trade,” Ari said slowly. “Trade like the World Trade. And trade like trading one life for another. I get it. T, that’s fucking genius.”
Jav felt his face get warm. “You think?”
“Totally. The muse will aim a knuckleball at your head if you don’t use it.”
“She’s such a bitch.”
Ari turned on his side, his expression thoughtful. “Is this woman in Argentina your girlfriend?”
“A girlfriend.”
“You have a lot of girlfriends.”
“In other news, water is wet.”
“But you don’t have anyone special.”
“Well, what about you,” Jav said. “Who’s your main squeeze?”
Ari snorted. “Girls only hang with me so they can get to you.”
Jav laughed. “Please.”
“Think you could see Deane while you’re down there?”
“Down there? Dude, look at a map. South America is a big ass continent.”
“Yeah, I don’t know why I said that.” Ari pulled the pillow partway over his red face and slung one knee over the other, his foot jiggling. “I kind of kissed her.”
“Kind of? What, with one lip?”
“Shut up.”
“You tripped and fell and your mouth landed on hers.”
“Whenever you’re done,” Ari said.
“I’m sorry. Tell me about kind of.”
Ari stayed hidden under the pillow. “It was more than a peck. Less than a full-blown makeout session.”
“Well,” Jav said, rolling socks. “That’s something.”
“Yeah.”
“Where’d you leave it?”
Now the pillow was moved a little. “We’re going to talk about it when she gets back.”
The temperature in the room dropped five degrees. The hairs stood up on Jav’s forearms and a faint roaring filled his ears.
When I come back, we should have a conversation.
Jav swallowed, waving mental arms to clear the fog. “Sounds like a good plan,” he said, trying not to think of Deane’s ten-hour return flight.
We’ll talk about it later.
Ari rolled over, shoving the pillow under his chest and wrapping his arms around it. “I like her a lot.”
“She’s a great girl. And you already know her parents like you.”
“Mm.”
Jav went on packing. He tried to whistle and project casualness, but his mouth was dry. Echoes of the past ricocheted off the insides of his skull. It had been a long time since he planted Flip in his every day activities. A while since he imagined something ordinary like packing a suitcase, while Flip lolled around on the bed, watching him. Asking questions.
“Qué lo qué?” Ari said. “You look morose, T.”
“I’m remembering someone I loved,” Jav said in Spanish.
“You talk too fast.” Ari put his forehead down. “Think you’ll ever get married?”
“Nah. It’s not my style. Dude, you’re wrinkling my sport coat, get off.”
Ari got up, swatted Jav playfully with the book and headed for the couch again.
Jav had been meeting Marianna Sastre-Vaca in various places in South America for years. She practiced international law in Rio before becoming Vice President of Legal-Latin American Affairs at FedEx. She served on the board of Santander and if things went her way, she’d be named its next chair. Things typically went Marianna’s way, either by skill, reason or force. But in the bedroom, she liked to beg for things.
“It keeps me humble,” she said.
Whatever, sweetheart, Jav thought. Every client had a right to their little quirks. If she was paying, he was playing. He made her ask for everything, and benignly ignored her treaties until she was on her knees. He could hold her on the razor’s edge of an orgasm until her whimpered pleas became screams. She begged to come, but wouldn’t until he let her.
“What do you say, querida?” he then asked over the limp heap of her body in the sheets.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Properly humbled, Marianna threw on suit, heels and her face. Then she was off to meetings and Jav was free to wander until she called for him.
He sat in Plaza Dorrego, enjoying the crisp fall day, a beer and the street tango dancers. His pen hovered over his notebook, trying to pin something down. Something more than the obvious. The wedding cake building at the corner of Defensa and Humberto Primo had to have been described a million times. What could he write about tango that hadn’t been written before?
He ordered another beer. He jotted words and crossed them out. He texted Alex: KLK?
Ten minutes went by before Alex replied: Bad situation going on.
Jav squinted at the phone as if the text were in Chinese. What’s up?
Deane crashed. Severe concussion, brain bleed. Bunch of broken bones, maybe a vertebra. They air-lifted her 2 Santiago.
Jav’s mouth dropped open. Holy shit. Call me.
Can’t, on hold w 3 diff airlines. Scrambling 2 find nonstop flight.
Who’s w Deane right now?
No reply.
Once again, cold swept Jav’s limbs and the air roared up in his ears. He stared at his phone, his beer ignored, the breeze rifling the pages of his notebook.
This isn’t happening, he thought. She and Ari have to talk about it later. Ari is waiting and she will come home and they will talk. Ari will get that conversation if I have to bring Deane back myself…
His finger scrolled up and down the screen, reading Alex’s texts.
“Brain bleed,” he said under his breath.
We’ll talk about it when I get back.
The beer soured in his stomach. Flip’s words sat down so hard in his lap, his chair rocked back.
You’re all I have. You have to get me down.
He texted Marianna: PF llámame, tengo una emergencia.
Five minutes later his phone rang. “Querido, what’s wrong?”
He explained the situation, saying his niece had been badly injured in a ski accident in Chile.
“Oh no,” Marianna said. “How old is she?”
“Seventeen. She was air-lifted to Santiago. If her parents can’t find a nonstop flight from New York, it could take them—”
“Oh my God, you have to
go,” she said. “Right away.”
“I’m sorry to—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Javier. Get a cab back to the hotel and pack. I’ll call my pilot and he’ll take you.”
Jav dropped some pesos on the table and ran to find a taxi. He was starting to text Alex when Alex pinged him first:
Bookd flight, leaving 9PM tonight JFK. Nonstop to SCL. 11 hours. Jav, pls help me. I know ur working but can U go?
In a cab already. Heading back 2 my hotel, they’re gassing up the jet for me & I’ll be in Santiago in 2 hours. 3 @ most.
God, thank U… I can’t thank U enough.
U don’t need 2. Tell me what hospital.
Clínica Las Condes.
I’m on the way. U just get urself on that plane.
Val’s crying. She says she loves U. I fucking love u 2. I can’t even…
Love me & cry later. Go pack. Tell hospital I’m coming. I’ll tell Ari 2 take care of dogs. Vamos a superarlo, cachai?
Deane was half a world away.
The sheer helplessness to do anything about the distance made Val want to scream. The limits of twenty-first century technology and the natural laws of the universe didn’t mean shit when it was your child. Fuck how fast a jet could fly and fuck the curvature of the Earth. North and South America were three inches apart on a map, why the hell would it take them until tomorrow to get to their daughter? They needed to be there now.
“Jav’s going,” Alex said, turning his phone to show her the text. “He’s on his way, he’ll be there in two hours.”
Val burst into tears, the relief buckling her knees. Jav was in Argentina. He was dropping everything and going to Santiago. Jav would be with Deane. And Jav being there was the only reason Val then went calm and stayed calm as she and Alex packed up. Her stomach was in a knot, her chest was a clenched fist, but her hands swiftly grabbed clothes and made lists and arrangements. She could function because Jav was on his way to Chile.
While Alex dealt with the flight, Val called Ari. “Can you dog sit?”
“Jav already texted me,” he said. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
“We’re low on their food, you’ll have to—”
“I’ll take care of it, you just go.”
They were going. So was Jav.
As Val emptied food containers out of the fridge and poured perishables down the sink, Alex paced the kitchen, on the phone with the hospital. A flood of Spanish. A pause. Another flood. “Si” repeated over and over. Val gritted her teeth against resentment she couldn’t understand the conversation, only pick out a couple words here and there. It heaped kindling on the bonfire of helplessness. Her eyes stung as if exposed to smoke.
An Exaltation of Larks Page 26