When he fell in love with me—was he right about that? That’s what I wanted to ask her. But I didn’t.
* * *
I had always wanted to meet love, understand it, let it live inside me. I ran into it one summer day when I heard Dante’s voice. Now I wished I’d never run into it. No one had ever told me love didn’t come to stay. Now that it had left me, I was a shell, a hollow body with nothing in it but the echoes of Dante’s voice, distant and unreachable.
And my own voice was gone.
Forty-Six
I STARED AT THE PAINTING that Dante had painted for me as a gift. He’d asked me once, “Ari, if you could paint, what would you paint?” And I said, “Me and you holding hands and staring out at a perfect desert sky.” That’s what I was staring at—the painting I had imagined.
It took my breath away.
I sat on my bed and opened the letter Dante had left for me:
Ari,
I want you to know that I will always love you. I know it hurts you. It hurts me, too. Two guys in a lot of pain. I did want to stay with you forever. But we both knew that wasn’t possible. You think you’re difficult to love. But you’re not. I’m the one who’s difficult to love. I ask for what isn’t possible. I’m more than a little ashamed of how I ended us—of how I ended Aristotle and Dante. You think I always know what to say—but that’s not true. When I was walking away from you, you said, “I love you.” I love you too, Ari. I don’t know what to do—and I don’t know what I’m doing. I know I broke your heart. But I broke mine, too. Ari, I know I can’t keep you. But I just don’t know how to let go. So I walked away—not because I didn’t love you, but because I haven’t learned the art of letting go with any kind of grace or dignity. I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone as beautiful as you again.
Dante
I read the note over and over and over.
And then I knew what I had to do.
I called Cassandra and Susie and Gina—and asked them to come to my house.
* * *
All three of them stared at the painting. “It’s astonishing,” Cassandra said.
Susie and Gina just nodded.
“Let me ask you something.”
Cassandra put on her best English accent. “Well, there’s never any harm in asking, darling. But you mustn’t expect a pleasant answer.”
“You’re just trying to make me smile.”
“It worked.”
“What do you see when you look at that painting?”
Susie shrugged. “Is that a trick question? I see you and Dante holding hands and looking out into the desert.”
“Does it conjure anything up for you?”
“It seems as though the two boys just might be in love,” Gina said.
“Exactly. I see Dante’s love. And that love is pointed in my direction. He painted it for me. For me.”
Cassandra nodded. “What’s this about?”
“He loves me. And he’s afraid to lose me. That’s what I think.”
“So he just leaves? Because he loves you? And makes sure he loses you. Brilliant.”
“It hurts too much.”
“Letting go is that way,” Susie said. “Who wants to let go when you love someone?”
“But you had to know that it wasn’t going to be forever.” Sometimes I hated Gina’s brutal honesty.
“Who gives a shit about forever?”
“Dante let go. Maybe it’s time for you to let go, too, Ari.”
“Dante let go? The hell he did. I’m going to Paris.”
Forty-Seven
“IS IT POSSIBLE TO GET a passport in two weeks?”
“I think so. It costs more. But yes, why do you ask?”
“I’m going to Paris.”
I was trying to read my mother’s expression. “You’re sure?”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“I can’t stand that look of hurt on your face. And I don’t think it’s going away anytime soon. You and Dante have some unfinished business. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do. And if it’s the right thing, it may not be the right time. And I’m not saying it’s the wrong thing to do either. As you recently reminded me, this is your life. But I know better than anyone that you can’t fix everything.”
“Mom, I don’t believe Dante and I are broken.”
My mom looked at me for a long time. Then she smiled. “Look at you, Ari: You’re not afraid to love anymore.”
She combed my hair with her fingers. “Why don’t you and I go the passport office? And let’s get you a ticket to Paris. Luckily, your father left you some money. And your aunt Ophelia’s house will help you put yourself through school once we sell it. Graduate school, too, if you decide that’s what you want to do. Though I’m not sure your father and Ophelia dreamed that they’d be paying your way halfway around the world chasing some boy.”
“He’s not just some boy, Mom. He’s Dante Quintana.”
Forty-Eight
I DIDN’T DRIVE TO THE Quintanas’ house that evening. I walked. We’d had an afternoon downpour, and it was cool outside, the streets still running with rainwater. I breathed in the smell of the rain and thought about that day when Dante and I had gone out for a walk after the rain—and how that day had changed the direction of our lives. It seemed like it happened such a long time ago.
I rang the doorbell at the Quintanas’ front door.
Sam held the door open for me. “Hi, Ari,” he said, wearing that kind and familiar smile on his face. He hugged me. “Come on in.”
Mrs. Q was setting Sophocles down next to her on the couch.
“I understand you’ve decided to take a trip to Paris.”
“And I understand that the two of you had a lengthy discussion about this over dinner last night with my mom.”
Mrs. Q laughed. “I wouldn’t call it lengthy. We had other things to talk about.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “UFOs.”
Sam’s grin—right then, he looked just like Dante. Though I’m sure it was the other way around.
“You’re sure about this.”
“Yes.”
I could tell Mrs. Q was trying to say the right thing—or at least trying not to say the wrong thing. “There’s a part of my heart that’s breaking for both of you. Dante can be very stubborn and unpredictable. He’s all emotion, and sometimes his fine intellect gets thrown out the window. He was dead set on spending the summer with you.
“Dante has many fine qualities, but he’s not selfless. And you are, Ari. I know that you wanted to spend the summer with him as much as he did. He sees how much he loves you, but he forgets to see how much you love him. He fails to understand how much you care about him because you care in such different ways.”
“We have unfinished business. I have to be able to tell myself that I did my part. I know that the odds are that Dante and I will move on one of these days—because we’re young. But I think I should have a say in when that moving on should happen. And I say, Not today.”