I should’ve kept more of an eye on a boy at loose ends. Guys like Lewis always have shit to sell the knotted and unravelled. I touch Aaron’s shoulder. “Okay, I’m done, let’s go.” He’s picking something off the table that isn’t there. “Aaron?” His head lifts like a swan unfolding. Pupils eclipse his irises. “Aaron, what did you take?” I fight for the bamming in my chest to stay out of my voice. “Tell me what you took.”
“Communion.” His eyes ratchet from my face to my shoulder to his hand.
“On your tongue?” I snap to Lewis. “You gave him acid?” One step and his shirt provides a choke hold. “You bastard, did you?”
“Just a hit.”
Crystal shows Lewis the door. “Can you manage, Ari?”
“Yeah.” He’s willing to be led. “Aaron, come with me.”
I coax him along the dark alley. He stops where light from a window arrows the ground. “Where does it end?”
“The ocean.”
He reaches down, touches the dirt. “I love you.”
“I need you to come with me.” Every friggin’ thing distracts him. “Come on, you like mountains. Let’s climb one.” I push him up my steps. “Stop looking down and I’ll show you an eagle’s nest.”
“Whoa, look there.”
Stupid friggin’ idiotic . . . “It’s beautiful.”
“What is that?”
“Trees. Climb higher.” Years in the Village and drug-dropping sisters make me an expert on riding out this shit. I open the door. “Go in, it’s safe.” I sit him on the comfy chair, turn on the soft light, then move everything I don’t want toppling in a “Oh, God look at all of them.”
“I’m going to take off your shoes, okay?” He bends over, mesmerized by his socks, and I wonder what Neruda was on when he wrote “Ode to My Socks.”
I watch him through a night of wondering, murmuring, sitting, wandering. He picks up a red tea towel. “God said this, didn’t he? I should’ve . . .” He drops the towel, fascinated by the appendage underneath. “Whoa.”
I capture his bewildered hand. “God says you should sit and let me hold you.”
He teeters on a floor crack.
“If you fall in, you’ll only float.” I put on trip-tranquilizing music, sit at the head of the bed, and invite him to me.
“Whoa, the walls?”
“They’re singing Pachelbel’s Canon. Drink this.” I lift orange juice to his lips and he drinks.
“Did God say that?”
“God says it’s okay to let go and not be afraid.”
He rubs a spot on my arm. “Oh, geezus.”
“It’s just paint. There’s nothing wrong.”
“I can do this better.”
“There’s no better to be done. Just follow the colour.” I drift. He takes a long time to let go. Light is seeping through the windows before he rolls to the wall and sleeps. A muddy muddle stirs in my belly. My shoulder and wrist ache, hedging the pain in my chest. I look at Aaron in my bed, feeling like someone has left me again.
It’s the first time in his whole life he’s ever messed up. Don’t say goodbye.
But he messed up because of me.
* * *
He rolls to a sit, capturing his head in his hands. “God, what’ve I done?”
“Acid.”
His head droops as he contemplates his socks, which likely don’t look so special today. “I can’t believe I did this. I’m . . . I-I’m . . .”
“You’re through the trip, but I’m guessing you’re going to have a hell of a time collecting your luggage.”
He reaches for his shoes. “I should go.”
“No. You’re staying here and working through whatever made you do such an idiotic, lame-brained, friggin’ stupid thing. Go have a shower while I make some bloody tea. I put some clothes out for you.”
He obeys like a guilty dog and comes out all little-boy tousled. “Whose clothes am I wearing?”
“My old friend Chase’s. Come eat.”
He sits on the red chair, lowers his mouth to the blue mug, then lets his head fall to the scarred yellow wood. Our hair connects as I search for his ear. “Aaron, if you screwed up and screwed up and screwed up again, this friend would still love you. In this room all gods that stand in judgment say not guilty.”
He looks up at me. “I’ll only believe that if you say it’s true for you.”
“Inside these walls, yeah.”
When one’s foundations shift, constructing new rooms, tearing down others, it gets crowded inside. “You need some space. There’s an empty journal by the chair and food enough to last a week.” He looks as if I’m leaving him smack in the middle of the Sahara with no water. “I’m going to do laundry and get groceries.”
“What if the owner comes back?”
“I am coming back.”
“This is your place?”
“Jacquie gave it to me.”
He moves to the window. The sun bleaches his face leaving his back stained with shadow. “Have you ever taken . . . ?”
“Couple of times.” He has the lonely sigh of a man that has no one to share an honest thought with. “It’s okay if you liked it. You just have to look smack at why.”
“No, I . . . I . . . Did you?”
“Mushrooms freed me some, but acid, I hated. Life on the outside for me was out of control. I didn’t much care for that on my insides, too.”
“Nothing was defined. Everything was moving.”
“Don’t throw it away.”
“What?”
“Whatever’s opening up in you. Listen to the voice in here.” I nudge the spirit living inside him. It remains as still as a gray rock.
Jasper pipes up when I hoist up the laundry bag. Know how to wake a sleeping dolphin, Ari?
Yeah, I know.
“Wait, take the jeep.” His head cranks around. “My keys? My wallet? My jacket?”
“On the rack. Lesson one: that shit makes you friggin’ stupid.”
I take the streetcar because shifting and clutching are impossible in my present state. There’s a laundromat closer than going to Sabina’s, but Mikey needs to see I’m moving as much as I need to hear him talking.
Mikey is pale as milk and clings to me like a persistent cold, helping me do laundry, when he could be riding the bike Otto fixed up for him. I ask, “You all caught up on your worksheets?” He nods. “If you want to go to the Butters now instead of June end, I’ll take you.”
“Would you stay?”
“Mina’s helping me get all my school stuff done. I’m so far in the hole it’s going to take me a few weeks.”
“I want to go when you go.”
“How about I ask Aaron if he’s up for an adventure tomorrow?”
His smile is small but there’s a little life in it.
* * *
On return to the nest there are washed dishes in the rack, journal fanning from pen-plumped pages, and Aaron curled on my bed, arms wrapped around my stuffed Zodiac. I’m so lonely, Jasper. I want to climb in and have him turn all sleepy and open to me.
I shower, and when I contemplate the underwear basket, Jasper pokes, The lacy ones.
I cook quiet, but the spiced air wakes him. “What time’s it?”
“Six.”
“P.m.?” He rubs his jumbled head. “What time do you work?”
“I’m only working one shift now, remember? Because of my shoulder.”
He tries to order his stressed hair. “Every time I think about what happened to you and Todd, I can’t breathe.”
“Is that why you took it?”
“I guess. You mind if I have another shower?”
“Help yourself.”
“Thanks for taking care of me last night.” His finger lifts mine from its red pepper cutting and he gives me a s
mall kiss on the forehead before disappearing into the bathroom.
We love Aaron.
But I love Jake.
I love the smell of my plain soap. I especially like it on Aaron. “You hungry?”
“Yeah. It smells good.”
“It’s amazing what I can do with a wok on a hot plate.”
“Sounds painful.”
“Set the table, wise ass.”
It’s telling that he matches up the plates when I mix them up on purpose. Every bite yields a question. “What was that?”
“Water chestnut.”
“Is this a cashew?”
I nod.
“What are these?”
“Rice noodles. What do you eat, Aaron West?”
“I’m a farm boy. Meat and potatoes.”
“What about all your travels?”
“I pack crackers and peanut butter.”
“There’s a lot of work to get you ready for living in the southern hemisphere. We’ll start with paella.”
He cowers behind his inside rock.
“Relax. I’ll leave out the squid.” I fill his mug with tea and plunk down a slab of fudgy cake.
“Sabina make this?”
“Yep.”
“How’s Mikey?”
“Processing. Apparently, the Dick called Jennah looking for Mikey.”
“What’d he want?”
“Last thing I expected. Help picking out Todd’s gravestone.”
“Weird.”
“Yeah. Jenn said the Dick genuinely seemed sad. Sabina thinks Mikey should see that.”
“Don’t trust him, Ari.”
“I don’t. Tino knows a guy. He’ll drive them. I’m going to get Mikey’s schoolwork for the rest of the year and keep him at Sabina’s, so the Dick can’t have him nabbed from school. I’ll go and work on my stuff with him.”
He takes a big bite. “I’ll come after school in hopes of more cake.”
“Stay here and you can have some for breakfast.” Chocolate freezes on his lip and I can see his heart lub-dubbing against his T-shirt. “What? Your stuff’s in storage. Your friend’s couch hurts your back. Stay here ’til you go home. I’ll crash at Sabina’s if you’re scared of me.”
“This place is like being inside a whole other world.”
Light splinters off his shoulder. “Oh, Aaron, look.” I go and open the door. A sky saturated crimson backlights the greening trees.
He stands behind—close, inhaling my coconut-scented hair. “I’ve witnessed a thousand sunsets, but this might be the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”
Push him from shore.
Stop meddling. I pull the door closed, slide the bolt and turn. “Why’d you take it?”
“I had ‘one reckless thing’ on my list.” He stacks the dishes. “And I guess the thought of you moving east is—I know life’s going to take us in different directions, but I don’t want to ever say goodbye to you.” Silence hangs as I put away food and he scrapes and rinses. I hoist myself onto the little counter, drying the dishes he passes my way. He looks up from the soapy water, full in my face, like a diver preparing to do a double-back three-and-a-half full reverse. “I took it because I hoped it’d give me courage.”
“To love me?”
“Every woman I meet, all I think is she’s not you.” I stretch forward by fractions. He leans in by micro-fractions. The air between us stirs like a hummingbird waiting, weightless, for a drink of nectar. When we kiss, the way we kiss, I know he’s entered the water. His wet hand weaves through my hair and the fuse is lit. Small kisses trail his whispered words. “Ari, this is crazy.”
“Be crazy.” My head lifts, neck opening. “The wise teacher doesn’t wall you in the house of wisdom. She leads you to the threshold of your own mind.”
He tucks up to the counter, between my dangling legs. “Pardon?”
“Gibran. It might sound tempting but be warned, this nor’easter will leave your solid house of wisdom in shambles.”
He inhales. Exhales. “Blow.”
I pull my blouse over my head, then lift Aaron’s T-shirt over his. Hands drift up the sensitive skin along my sides, thumbs making my nipples startle up under the silk, strap falling away as he kisses my shoulder. He unhooks my bra and takes hold of the wonder.
His moans spill over my breasts as I unzip him, slipping my hand down his belly to where his penis is trapped like an inflated raft in a closet. My tongue brushes his lips, bringing his mouth back to mine. He dances out of his jeans, kicking away his boxers. I navigate my skirt over my head, barely disconnecting our lips.
I kiss. He kisses. We kiss. Borders cross, disappear. He quiets, like stepping into the storm’s eye. Looking down, his hands explore my naked thighs, fingers tracing the rise of lace like a moon over my hip. He tugs my panties. I lift for their removal and—the meeting of the winds is on. My legs snap ’round him as he gathers my naked skin against his peeled self with more Oh Gods than is heard at the First Pentecostal on resurrection Sunday. He aims us for the bed, landing us on the chair. I kneel, painting from his neck to his chest to his belly with my tongue, then kiss where he’s wanting, wanting, wanting. I meander my lips back up to his face. “Last chance to take shelter.”
One sweep and he lands me on the bed, and we are the untamed spring storm that turns the world green and live. I guide him in, fly him away, tossing him barely conscious on a mountain peak, in an eagle’s nest under my feathered wing.
One forty-six, I sense him staring, open-eyed at the ceiling beams. I turn, studying the shadows above us. “Please don’t tell me you’re sad.”
“Just scared. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“I was. You don’t have to worry about any little squalls.”
“How?”
“The pill.” My hand searches for his. “You and me like this has to stay inside these walls, just for us to know. I can’t wreck your life. Promise me.”
“Promise.”
When I wake again, he’s looking at me and I wonder how long he’s been waiting like Zodiac the obedient in the presence of prime rib. He moves hair from my shoulder, kisses it, then unearths my neck.
“Hang on, sailor. This vessel has taken on water and has a dead mackerel in her mouth.” I’ve never seen my bum walking away, but I suspect it might be a good one. Though maybe glimpsing any girl’s ass under a waterfall of hair lures a guy out of bed. He nabs me when I come out of the bathroom. A scratch of new growth prickles as I kiss my way to his ear. “Go shower and get ready for church.” Likely he’s heard those words a thousand times in his life and I feel big disappointment.
Pachelbel’s Canon fills the nest when he returns. I slip the button on his fly. “You’re wearing the wrong suit for this church.”
“When do we have to pick up Mikey?”
“Three hours. Let us pray.”
“Amen.” A slow loving begins, the kind that lingers on a soft thigh, listens to whispered prayers, takes communion from skin, shoulder, breast, hip. He hesitates to shadow me with his body, but the joining is faith—seeing without eyes, feeling without hands, hearing music resonating in bone. He pulls back, willing the divine not to leave him just yet, but the muscled longing in me draws him in, filling me and forcing the dolphin’s cry from his depths into the light.
“Jesus, Ari, Jeeesus.” His neck lengthens and a graceful leap breaks the surface, leaping again and again. He splashes down, floating on me, ocean soaked. “God. What’d you do to me?”
“That was your doing. There’s a dolphin been wanting out.” I kiss the salt from his forehead. “No wonder you’ve been so closed up. A boy from the prairie just wouldn’t know what that was.”
“You are miraculously strange—and astonishingly spectacular, Ari Nor’easter.” He drifts on the afternotes of sacred music for long sweet moments before rea
ching for his jeans crumpled on the floor. He retrieves his wallet and unfolds a hundred-times-folded piece of lined paper.
“Is that the list?”
“You get to cross one off.” He releases it to me.
“Which one?”
“You’ll know it when you see it.”
I turn on the pillow and scan the rows. “Do something reckless?”
“No, I did that idiotic thing all by myself.”
I forge on through seven wonders, writing a novel, sky diving, then arrive at it. I read and reread number seventeen thinking it must be something about getting lost in Virginia. “Holy schmoley, Aaron.” I sit up. “I deflowered you?”
Fifty-Six
Monday morning, Aaron slides the knot up on his tie.
“Better hurry yourself out the door before I rip that shirt off you.”
“Tell me this is okay.”
“I’m partial to the leather tie.”
“No, us.”
“In the nest, nothing is bad. It just is.”
He picks up his gear. “Grab your pack. I’ll drop you at Sabina’s.”
“No thanks. It’s too close to Oakridge. I’m not having Thornton messing up your last couple of weeks at school.”
* * *
Tuesday, he nimble foots up the metal steps like a horny mountain goat.
* * *
Wednesday, I take Mikey to the museum, then back to the nest. “Help me pick the spot for Todd’s sea lion.” He hangs it close to the dragonfly. I ask, “Where’d you find it?”
“Aaron took me to, like, thirty places. We found it in an aquarium store.” We tuck on the bed remembering Todd. “He told me it was you that said he should take care of dogs.”
“I did. We’d go over to the Humane Society when the Dick was totally off the rails. One time there was an ad on the board for a vet assistant. I told him treating dogs would be better than sitting around being treated like one.”
“He really liked that you came to live with us. He told me.”
“Let’s make a pact. I’ll keep telling you that it’s not your fault and you keep telling me that it’s not my fault and we’ll keep doing that until we both believe it.”
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