I nodded.
“Ari, you and I don’t have a future.”
I shook my head. “Yes, we do, Dante. It’s just not the kind of future you imagined.”
“You mean we can just be friends? Fuck that.”
And again, there was a long silence between us. And just then I felt like we were two strangers. Two strangers who lived in different neighborhoods, different cities, different countries. I don’t know how long we sat there—but it was a while.
And then I heard Dante’s voice saying, “I’m leaving for Paris tomorrow.”
“It’s good that you’re going. It’s a good thing. A beautiful thing.”
He nodded. “I wanted to thank you, Ari. For everything.”
It’s funny. Dante was always the boy full of tears. There were no tears in him now. But there wasn’t any way I could hold mine back.
He looked at me. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I stopped and took a deep breath and looked into his beautiful face, which would always be beautiful. “You know what, Dante? When you hurt someone, you don’t get to say you didn’t.”
He got up and started walking down the sidewalk.
“Don’t just walk away like that, Dante. I have one more thing to say to you.”
“What’s that?”
“I love you.” And then I whispered it: “I love you.”
He turned around and looked in my direction—but he couldn’t look at me. He just looked down at the ground. And then he looked up at me. Those familiar tears were flowing down his face. The tears fell like the rains that fell on the desert sands in a storm.
He slowly turned around and walked away.
Forty-Two
I SAT DOWN TO WRITE in my journal. I stared at the clean, new page. I started to write Dante’s name. But I didn’t want to talk to Dante. So I set my journal aside and took out a legal pad and started to write a poem. I didn’t really know how to write a poem—but I didn’t care because I had to write something to let out the hurt. Because I didn’t want to live in that hurt.
One day you said to me: I see a yearning.
You saw the want in me that has no name.
You’re gone. There’s a sky and there are trees.
There are dogs and there are birds.
There are waters on this earth and they
are waiting. I hear your voice: Dive in!
You taught me how to swim in stormy waters—
Then left me here to drown.
Forty-Three
THERE THEY WERE, CASSANDRA AND Susie and Gina, sitting at my kitchen table and drinking lemonade.
“I’m going to kick his ass.”
“He’s a complete shit.”
“He’s just like all the rest of them.”
“He’s not like the rest of them, Gina. He’s not a complete shit, Susie. And, Cassandra, you’re not kicking anybody’s ass.”
“But look at you. You’re a mess.”
“Yeah, I am. I have to learn to let go. We’re just kids, anyway.”
“Well, maybe he’s a kid. But you’re not.”
“Can we just go to a movie and think about something else?” And that’s what we did. We went to a movie. And then we went out for pizza. And we didn’t talk about Dante, but he was there. He was like a ghost that was haunting my head. But mostly he was haunting my heart.
Forty-Four
A WEEK WENT BY. CASSANDRA and I went running every morning. I’d spend my time reading. Getting lost in a book wasn’t such a bad way to pass my days. I knew it would stop hurting one day. I ran in the mornings, read, talked to Legs, talked to my mom.
I had a lot of conversations with my mother—but I didn’t remember what we talked about. I lived in that sadness that lay beyond tears. I wasn’t exactly melancholy. I was more like lethargic or, what was that word Dante taught me? Oh yeah, “malaise.” I was feeling malaise.
There was nothing else to do—except to live.
I tried not to think of the name that had been written on my heart. I tried not to whisper his name.
Forty-Five
I WOKE TO THE SOUND of pouring rain. I was having a cup of coffee when the phone rang. I heard Mrs. Q’s voice. She said Dante had left a few things for me. I’d almost forgotten what a nice voice she had.
By the time I arrived at the Quintanas’, it had stopped raining. Mrs. Q was sitting on the steps of the front porch and talking to Sophocles.
“What do you talk to him about?”
“Different things. I was just telling him about the day you saved his brother’s life.”
“Will there be a test?”
“Ever the smart aleck.”
She handed Sophocles to me. “I need to get something for you. I’ll be right back.”
I took Sophocles in my arms. I stared at his deep, curious black eyes. He was a calm baby. He was happy just to be, and he seemed to understand what was going on around him, though I knew that wasn’t really true. He was always sweet when he was in my arms. But he was fussy when Dante held him. I didn’t know why that was.
Sam and Mrs. Q came out the door carrying paintings. Mrs. Q was carrying the painting Emma had given us, and I couldn’t quite see the painting Mr. Q had carried out. Judging by its size, it was the painting Dante had been working on in his room. He’d wrapped it in an old blanket to protect it.
“We’ve missed you around here.” Sam smiled at me. “Let me put this in the back of your truck.” He came back up the steps and took the other painting and put it on my front seat. He bounced up the stairs, and right then I swear it was like watching Dante. He took Sophocles in his arms. “This little guy is getting big.”
“Does he miss Dante?”
“I don’t think so. But you do, don’t you?”
“Guess it’s written all over my face.”
Mrs. Q handed me a letter. “He left this for you.” She looked at me and shook her head softly. “I hate to see you so sad, Ari. Dante had that same look until the day he left for Paris. He never told us what happened between you two.”
“I don’t really understand what happened. I guess he just, I don’t know, just, oh hell, I really don’t know. Listen, I gotta go.”
Mrs. Q followed me to my truck.
“Ari, don’t be a stranger around here. Sam and I think the world of you. And if you ever need anything…”
I nodded.
“Whatever happened between you—remember that Dante loves you.”
“The last time I saw him, it didn’t feel like that.”
“I don’t think you really believe that.”
“I don’t know what I believe.”
“Sometimes confusion is better than certainty.”
“I don’t really get what that means.”
“Write it down—and think about it.” She kissed me on the cheek. “Give my love to Lilly. Tell her not to forget about dinner tomorrow night.”
“Dante used to think that when you had dinner with my mom and dad, all you did was talk about us.”
“Dante wasn’t right about that. He’s not right about a lot of things.”