An Exaltation of Larks

by Suanne Laqueur

  “What, to get them back or me?”

  “You.” He brushed her cheek. “I’d jump out of a fucking plane for you.”

  She reached her hands out and he took them. He pulled her against his body and wrapped his arms around her, exhaling. Letting her fill him up like a rich dessert after weeks of strict dieting.

  “Valerie, please forgive me,” he said.

  “I will,” she said.

  He buried his hands in her hair. “Soon?”

  “We’re better off doing this together,” she said. “I don’t like doing this shit without you.”

  “Me neither. I suck without you.”

  She squeezed him, wiped her face against his shirt and then looked up. “I think you should make dulce de leche.”

  He felt his smile unfold until a chuckle fell out. “You’re brilliant.”

  She touched a fingertip to one of his dimples. “I know.”

  Alex never had a burning need to keep his culinary heritage alive, but after Deane was born, he felt it his fatherly duty to produce dulce de leche. Buying it pre-made in a jar was cheating. He made it the way his father did, by taking a can of condensed milk and letting it simmer in water for three hours, turning to a rich, dark caramel spread. It was Deane’s favorite thing in the world. She and Alex ate it on toast. Or straight out of the can, depending on what kind of day it was.

  Today called for the can. And a soup spoon.

  Alex stayed downstairs most of the afternoon, supervising the milk-and-sugar alchemy and doing odd jobs outside. A luscious, comforting perfume slowly filled the quiet house with sweetness. Alex took the can out of the water to cool, turned off the stove and went upstairs.

  Val was napping, which he expected. He didn’t expect Deane to be in bed with her. She and Val were spooned up tight under the covers, Val curved like a shield against Deane’s back, an arm holding her close. Both Deane’s hands were in fists against her collarbones, the crown of her head right under Val’s chin. Her mouth was slightly parted and her hairline damp with sweat, the way it always was when she napped as a toddler.

  Deane stirred when Alex moved closer to the bed, and Val opened her eyes.

  “We for to take leetle nap,” she whispered.

  Alex heeled off his shoes and lay down. He put his hand at the back of Deane’s neck and pressed his mouth against her flushed forehead. She made a little hum in her chest and gave a heavy sigh.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said softly, taking a bit of his shirt into her fingers.

  “Hey, babe.”

  She put her face into Alex’s chest and cried. He dug in his pocket but for once, a handkerchief wasn’t in it. He found the one under his pillow and handed it over.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Ever since I can remember, I wanted a love like the one you guys have. I finally found it. And now I’m supposed to walk away and forget it?”

  “No,” Alex said against her head. “No one’s suggesting you do that.”

  “I think you should love him and see what happens,” Val said, running her hand along the long, blonde ponytail.

  Deane sniffed, swallowed hard and looked back at her mother.

  Val smiled. “You love him. And love isn’t something you can switch on and off.” Over Deane’s head, Val’s eyes met Alex’s and held a moment. “You’re young, baby. And the world is yours. Maybe you’ll feel differently when you go to school and you’re away from him. Maybe you won’t. The only thing to do is find out. Love him and see what happens.”

  Deane looked at Alex then, as if for approval. He gazed back, seeing his daughter’s face morph back and forth between little girl and woman.

  What you feel now is all that matters. What you believe and feel right now. Later on, you might feel differently. Later you might be able to explain it better. But it doesn’t ever change how you felt at the time…

  “Who am I to tell you can’t love your cousin, cosita?” he said. “I practically married my sister.”

  He smoothed her hair, then reached beyond and caressed Val’s face. Her fingers crept over and tucked into one of his belt loops. “Rest,” she said softly.

  But Alex stayed awake, holding his girls.

  “Do you want me to be here when Rog comes?” Jav asked.

  Ari thought about it, already feeling his loyalty was being tested and one answer or the other would be dickish to somebody. “I guess,” he said, lobbing the decision back into Jav’s court.

  Jav closed his laptop and unplugged the power cord. “Tell you what. I’ll go sit in Celeste’s and write. Then you can have privacy and if shit gets weird, I’m twenty feet away.”

  “Sounds good,” Ari said. “Thanks.”

  Jav hooked an arm around Ari’s neck and pulled him in, rubbing his hair. He was touchy-feely lately, and while the bristly, adolescent part of Ari rolled its eyes, the tender and bruised parts of him leaned into the hugs. He rested a moment against Jav’s tall, muscular weight and let it soothe the crackling, confused ends of his nerves.

  “Estas el más valiente,” Jav said.

  “Estas la verdad de mi sangre.”

  Along with accepting physical affection, Ari was attempting to speak Spanish with Jav. It came to him slow and klutzy, words and expressions pried from memory. Elementary phrases and rudimentary words. But it made Jav happy, and his happiness mattered.

  Waiting alone, Ari tried to relax and draw, but his fingers were trembling around the pencil, which annoyed him. He crumpled up paper after paper, firing it over his shoulder.

  Are you nervous? Deane texted.

  Yeah. Which is stupid, because come on it’s just ROG.

  And you’ve met him before.

  Yeah. Which is surreal and stupid.

  I miss you.

  Ari exhaled. Words didn’t exist for the empty place in his heart and the aching need in his hands. Soon, he typed. I’ll see you so soon.

  A knock at the apartment door. A stab of adrenaline in Ari’s chest, cold like an icicle, followed by a boiling rush down his arms. His damp palm slid off the doorknob once before it could get a grip and open it.

  At Thanksgiving, Rog had been soft, tousled and casual. Up in Vermont, he’d been a lumberjack—bearded and rugged. Now he was shaved and combed and sharp. As if for a date.

  “What, no flowers?” Ari said, pretending to close the door as Roger laughed out loud.

  “Goddammit, I was going to get some, too.”

  The chuckles died off as they looked at each other across the threshold.

  “Hey, Schnozz,” Rog finally said. The words were joking but his voice trembled.

  “I prefer Son of Schnozz,” Ari said. He cleared his throat and reached out. “Hale, hearty handshake?”

  Rog’s eyes crinkled above big teeth in a big smile. His big hand folded around Ari’s and gave it a brisk pump. “Nice lid,” he said.

  Ari flicked the brim of the porkpie hat. “It’s Jav’s.”

  “I brought a friend with me,” Rog said, pointing down the stairs. Ari leaned out and looked down. Roman sat at the foot of the steps, his leash looped around the banister bracket.

  “I thought we could take a walk,” Rog said. “Head up to Lark House. I don’t know about you, but I think better on my feet.”

  They headed up Bemelman Street, making small talk and letting the incline burn off some of the nervous energy. They ambled down to the cool, shady grove. Ari looped Roman’s leash around a small beam, then he and Rog climbed one of the spiral staircases to the main platform. They sat, each with a back up against a trunk, and exhaled a sigh.

  “I guess let’s start with the obvious,” Ari said.

  “I didn’t know,” Rog said.

  Ari nodded.

  “I give you my word, I didn’t know.”

  “I believe you.”

  “But I’d like to…get to know you.”

  “I don’t know what I’d like.”

  “That’s fair.”

  The wind blew t
hrough, rustling the green leaves, throwing patterns on the wood platform’s planks.

  “Alondra,” Ari said. “Well-played, Mom.”

  Rog’s smile was sad. “Well-played.”

  “Did you really throw up on her?”

  “Full projectile unload,” Rog said. “Right in her lap.”

  Ari laughed. “Smooth.”

  “And that’s how I met your mother.”

  “How long were you together?”

  “Only a couple months.” Rog reached into one of the pockets of his cargo shorts. “I have some boxes of stuff in my sister’s attic. I went digging around last night…” He handed over a stack of photos.

  Ari took them. A young, sandy Roger stood at the base of a tree, a cast on his arm and signs of construction all around him. Safety goggles pushed up on his forehead, sawdust in his hair and joy in his smile as he looked down at the woman at his side. Tucked under Roger’s arm, she looked off beyond the camera, laughing.

  Ari stared. “Look at her hair,” he said softly. It fell nearly to her waist. He’d only seen it short.

  “Oh she had some head of hair,” Roger said. “Thick. I mean it had weight. You’ll never lose your hair, kid, I guarantee you that.”

  Ari glanced up. A quick, two-second look and for the first time, he saw a flicker of himself in Roger’s face.

  He looked at the next picture. Roger and Naroba, down by the river. He was soaking wet in swim trunks, hair slicked back and water beading on his shoulders. His arms held Naroba from behind, the casted one wrapped up in a plastic bag. His face was hidden in her shoulder while her head was turned to the side. She was laughing at him. Happy and confident in a striped bikini, her hair pulled up in a high ponytail. One arm curved up around Roger’s neck.

  A third shot, by the river at sunset. Roger and Naroba sitting on a rock, looking out at the water. He was pointing at something and her gaze followed his finger. Then one more shot of them on the rock, sitting close together. Roger’s arm around Naroba’s back, a hand buried in her thick, weighted hair. Her head lay on his shoulder.

  “You looked really happy,” Ari said, his throat warm.

  “It was a summer love. You find it under H in the dictionary.”

  “Mm.” His eyes kept widening and narrowing, focusing on his mother. So young. So fresh and pretty and full of sass.

  God, Mom…

  “Naroba,” Rog said. “It’s pretty. It rolls around your mouth. But she liked to be called Naria.”

  “I never heard anyone call her that.”

  “You know, it hit me while I was on the plane: Ari is the three middle letters of Naria. I don’t know if it’s significant, but it sure seemed like it.”

  Ari’s mouth hung open a little as he envisioned the name, seeing himself within it. “Holy shit.”

  A long silence passed.

  “Was it here?” Ari asked.

  Rog wrinkled his eyebrows.

  “Here,” Ari said, patting the platform beside him. “In the treehouse.”

  “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “I think I’m entitled to know if I was conceived in a tree. It would explain a lot.”

  Rog laughed and bumped his feet against Ari’s sneakers. “Let’s say it was nowhere near the ground.”

  The quiet between them was comfortable now and they held still under each other’s curious gaze.

  I can see it now, Ari thought. I see me in him.

  “What ended up happening?” he asked.

  “It always had a finite amount of time. I was leaving.”

  “Where?”

  “To southeast Asia. To work with Habitat for Humanity. And then my parents died. That turned the world upside-down and I became a…not pleasant person to be with for the rest of the summer.”

  “I hear you.”

  “It didn’t end badly,” Rog said. “It just finished. It was a summer love story and we came to the end of the book, the way we knew we would.”

  Ari stacked the pictures and extended them back to Roger, but Rog held up a palm. “They’re for you. If you want them, I mean.”

  And all at once, Ari did want them. Wanted more to fill in the gaps, wanted a structure built on this stunted branch of his family tree. “Did you ever see her again? Talk to her?”

  Rog shook his head. “No. For whatever reason, we didn’t reach out again.” He rolled his arm up, showing the rose compass tattoo. “But I never forgot. I always thought about her. There’s always a girl, Schnozz. That girl with a capital G. You keep coming back to in your mind. Not with regret. More like she’s north, with a capital N. And your memory’s compass needle likes to turn toward her and wonder.”

  “She put you on my birth certificate. Sort of. But I’ve been wondering why she didn’t name you my guardian in her will.”

  “When you think about it, she didn’t have much going on in terms of choice, huh? Name me or name her brother—two men she’d had little to no contact with in years. I guess… Well, no need to guess really. Between the two of us, Jav is the better man.”

  “You think?”

  “I know. We got it all backward. Jav should be your father who looks out for you. I should be your uncle who gets you into trouble.”

  “Jav kind of saved my life.” Ari ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, I don’t know what I would’ve done without him this past year.”

  “I don’t want to upset your life,” Rog said. “But I don’t want to be a stranger to you.”

  “What do you want me to call you?”

  “Rog is fine.”

  “All right.”

  “As for Deane… That’s a surreal, shitty situation. Because at the moment I sense she’s that girl. Capital G.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m not one to be giving love advice. Not that you’re asking.”

  “I don’t know what to do. Advise away.”

  “Just love her. You’re young. Anything could come of this. First love doesn’t always turn into forever love but… I don’t know, Ari. I’m not a clairvoyant but something in my gut tells me this isn’t going to be a tragedy.” He grinned. “I have a nose for these things.”

  Ari slowly nodded. “Want to come to my graduation?”

  Roger blinked a few times. “I’d be honored.” His voice faltered and he looked away, a fist touching his mouth, his large nose resting on top. “Holy shit, it’s all kind of hitting me. You know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I remember at Thanksgiving, and again up in Stowe. I kept saying to Jav, ‘That’s a great kid. I like that kid.’ I mean, I liked you. Right away. Maybe I’m projecting backward but I swear, some instinctive…something was going on. When I think about the whole damn time at the dinner table and later at my house, my own son was sitting right there… Ah, shit, look at me now.” He laughed, pressing the heel of his hand into his eyes. “It’s just crazy.”

  Ari took a deep, trembling breath. “I know.”

  “Oh, hey,” Rog said. “There she is. Perfect timing.”

  “Who?”

  Rog pointed down. “I convinced Alex and Val to spring her.”

  Roman barked as Deane came walking into the grove.

  “Dude, I fucking love you,” Ari said, scrambling to his feet.

  Roger rolled his eyes. “Don’t sweet-talk me, Schnozz. Get out of here.”

  Ari went tearing down the spiral stairs. He took off running. Deane came running, too, and flung herself into his arms. He whipped her around in two whirling circles and then crushed her against him.

  “I love you,” she said, as they stumbled sideways together and came to a rest against a massive oak.

  “I love you.” He pulled her in tight. “I swear being cousins doesn’t matter to me. Maybe someday it will. But not now.”

  He closed his eyes a moment, the hot summer day wrapping around him and Deane. Even the trees crept nearer, joining branches to make a green ring around them.

  Deane lifted up her head, eyes shining silver and
gold. “My dad says how you feel now is all that matters.”

  She kissed him, and as his mouth opened to hers, Ari felt his inner compass needle spin in a slow, contented revolution. Deane wasn’t north. The needle wasn’t even looking for a direction. It only wanted to turn around and around, with Ari at its center, the fulcrum for all the directions, all the possibilities and somedays the world offered. Ari in the middle of a ring of trees, beneath the spot where he was conceived.

  Ari, who was the center of Naria.

  Alex and Val went out to dinner for their anniversary. They had their little cards. And their pens. Nibs poised over the paper and the words prepared: I’d like to be faithful to you another year.

  “I knew one year it would be hard,” Val said.

  “Did you?”

  “It’s silly to think nobody will ever come along who makes the floor rock beneath your feet. Makes you stop and think. Weigh the consequences.”

  Alex nodded. “I know. It’s just…” He rolled his lips in, eyes bright. “This sounds so shitty.”

  “You didn’t think it was going to be you.”

  He shook his head.

  “And certainly not with another guy. Who saw that coming?”

  He pretended to jab the pen into his temple.

  “At least we’re laughing,” she said, even though above the laughter they were both tearing up. And still the squares of paper on the table were blank, the pens uncapped.

  “So, do we not sign this year?” she said. “Give it a pass? Sanction an affair each?”

  He looked a long time at her. “We’re better than that.”

  “This isn’t a competition. Not with anyone else. Not even with ourselves.” She reached her hands across the table and he took them in his. “I know life has rules,” she said. “But the only rules I care about are the ones you and I make for us. And I know now I can handle anything from you except secrets. It sounds crazy, but rather than sneak off to the shed, I’d rather he came into our bedroom as a guest—”

  “Honey, no,” Alex said, twining his fingers with hers.

  “I’d rather you told me you were going to see it through. And then come home to me.”

  “I don’t need to see anything through,” he said. “This attraction to Jav is intense and confusing, and it’s shaking me up. But coming home to you has never been a question. This isn’t coming from a place of dissatisfaction. That’s what’s so bewildering to me. I’m not unhappy. I don’t need anything or anyone else.”