Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe (21 page)

I didn’t know why.

I took a shower and looked at the clock. I had some time to kill. I found myself opening the drawer in the spare bedroom. I found myself holding the envelope labeled
BERNARDO
. I wanted to rip it open. Maybe if I ripped it open, I would also be ripping open my life.

But I just couldn’t. I threw it back in the drawer.

All day, I thought of my brother. But I didn’t even remember what he looked like. I kept screwing up the orders at work. The manager told me to pay attention. “I’m not paying you to be pretty.”

There was a cuss word in my head. But I didn’t let it pass my lips.

I drove by Dante’s house after work. “Want to get drunk?” I said.

He studied my face. “Sure.” He had the decency not to ask me what was wrong.

I went back home and showered, washing the smell of french fries and onion rings off my skin. My dad was reading. The house seemed quiet to me. “Where’s Mom?”

“She and your sisters are in Tucson visiting your Aunt Ophelia.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.”

“It’s just you and me.”

I nodded. “Sounds like fun.” I hadn’t meant to sound so sarcastic.

I could tell he was studying me. “Is there something wrong, Ari?”

“No. I’m going out. Dante and I, we’re going to go riding around.”

He nodded. He kept looking at me. “You seem different, Ari.”

“Different how?”

“Angry.”

If I had been braver this is what I would have said:
Angry? What have I got to be angry about? You know something, Dad? I don’t really care that you can’t tell me about Vietnam. Even though I know that war owns you, I don’t care if you don’t want to talk about it. But I do care that you won’t talk about my brother. Damn it to hell, Dad, I can’t stand to live with all your silence.

I imagined his answer:
All that silence has saved me, Ari. Don’t you know that? And what is this obsession you have with your brother?

I imagined my argument:
Obsession, Dad? You know what I’ve learned from you and Mom? I’ve learned not to talk. I’ve learned how to keep everything I feel buried deep inside of me. And I hate you for it.

“Ari?”

I knew I was about to cry. I knew he could see that. I hated letting my dad see all that sadness inside of me.

He reached for me. “Ari—”

“Don’t touch me, Dad. Just don’t touch me.”

I don’t remember driving to Dante’s. I just remember sitting there in my truck, parked outside his house.

His parents were sitting on the front steps. They waved at me. I waved back. And then they were standing right there. At the door of my truck. And I heard Mr. Quintana’s voice. “Ari, you’re crying.”

“Yeah, that happens sometimes,” I said.

“You should come inside,” Mrs. Quintana said.

“No.”

And then Dante was there. He smiled at me. And then he smiled at his mom and dad. “Let’s go,” he said.

His parents didn’t ask any questions.

I just drove. I could have driven forever. I don’t know how I managed to find my spot in the desert, but I found it. It was as if I had a compass hidden somewhere inside me. One of the secrets of the universe was that our instincts were sometimes stronger than our minds. When I stopped the truck, I got out, slamming the door. “Shit! I forgot about the beer.”

“We don’t need the beer,” Dante whispered.

“We need the beer! We need the fucking beer, Dante!” I don’t know why I was yelling. The yelling turned into sobs. I fell into Dante’s arms and cried.

He held me and didn’t say a word.

Another secret of the universe: Sometimes pain was like a storm that came out of nowhere. The clearest summer morning could end in a downpour. Could end in lightning and thunder.

IT WAS STRANGE NOT HAVING MY MOM AROUND.

I wasn’t used to making the coffee.

My dad left a note.
Are you okay?

Yeah, Dad.

I was glad that Legs broke the silence of the house when she began barking. Her way of telling me it was time to go for a run.

Legs and I ran faster that morning. I tried not to think of anything as I ran, but it didn’t work. I thought of my dad and my brother and Dante. I was always thinking of Dante, always trying to figure him out, always wondering why it was that we were friends and why it seemed to matter so much. To both of us. I hated thinking about things and people—especially when they were mysteries I couldn’t solve. I changed the topic in my head to Aunt Ophelia in Tucson. I wondered why I never went to visit her. It’s not as if I didn’t love her. She lived alone and I could have made an effort. But I never did. I did call her sometimes. It was strange, but I could talk to her. She always made me feel so loved. I wondered how she did that.

When I was drying myself off after my shower, I stared at my naked body in the mirror. I studied it. How strange to have a body.
Sometimes it felt that way. Strange. I remembered what my aunt had told me once. “The body is a beautiful thing.” No adult had ever said that to me. And I wondered if I would ever feel like my own body was beautiful. My Aunt Ophelia had solved a few of the many mysteries of the universe. I felt as though I hadn’t solved any at all.

I hadn’t even solved the mystery of my own body.

RIGHT BEFORE I WENT IN TO WORK, I STOPPED OFF AT
the drugstore where Dante was working. I think I just wanted to see that he really had a job. When I walked into the drugstore, he was behind the counter, placing cigarettes on the shelf.

“Are you wearing shoes?” I said.

He smiled. I stared at his name tag.
Dante Q.

“I was just thinking of you,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Some girls came in a little while ago.”

“Girls?”

“They knew you. We got to talking.”

I knew which girls they were before he told me. “Gina and Susie,” I said.

“Yeah. They’re nice. Pretty, too. They go to school with you.”

“Yeah, they’re nice and pretty. And pushy, too.”

“They looked at my name tag. And then they looked at each other. And then one of them asked me if I knew you. I thought that it was a funny question to ask.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I told them yeah. I said you were my best friend.”

“You told them that?”

“You are
my
best friend.”

“Did they ask you anything else?”

“Yeah, they asked if I knew anything about an accident and you breaking your legs.”

“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it!”

“What?”

“Did you tell them?”

“Of course I told them.”

“You told them?”

“Why are you getting mad?”

“You told them about what happened?”

“Of course I did.”

“There’s a rule, Dante.”

“You’re mad? You’re mad at me?”

“The rule was we weren’t supposed to talk about the accident.”

“Wrong. The rule was we weren’t supposed to talk about the accident with each other. The rule doesn’t apply to anyone else.”

There was a line forming behind me.

“I have to get back to work,” Dante said.

Later that afternoon, Dante called me at work. “Why are you mad?”

“I just don’t like other people to know.”

“I don’t get you, Ari.” He hung up the phone.

What I knew was going to happen, happened. Gina and Susie showed up at the Charcoaler just as I was getting off work.

“You were telling us the truth,” Gina said.

“So what?” I said.

“So what? You saved Dante’s life.”

“Gina, let’s not talk about it.”

“You sound upset, Ari.”

“I don’t like to talk about it.”

“Why not, Ari? You’re a hero.” Susie Byrd had this thing in her voice.

“And how come,” Gina said, “we don’t know anything about your best friend?”

“Yeah, how come?”

I looked at both of them.

“He’s so cute. I’d have thrown myself in front of a moving car for him too.”

“Shut up, Gina,” I said.

“How come he’s such a secret?”

“He’s not a secret. He just goes to Cathedral.”

Susie had this gaga look on her face. “Cathedral boys are so cute.”

“Cathedral boys suck,” I said.

“So when are we going to get to know him?”

“Never.”

“Oh, so you want him all to yourself.”

“Knock it off, Gina, you’re really pissing me off.”

“You’re really touchy about things, you know that, Ari?”

“Go to hell, Gina.”

“You really don’t want us to know him, do you?”

“I don’t really care. You know where he works. Go badger him. Maybe that way, you’ll leave me alone.”

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU’RE SO UPSET.”

“Why did you tell Gina and Susie about the whole thing?”

“What’s with you, Ari?”

“We agreed not to talk about it.”

“I don’t get you.”

“I don’t get me either.”

I got up from the steps of his front porch where we were sitting. “I gotta go.” I looked out across the street. I remembered Dante running after two boys who were shooting at a bird.

I opened the door to my truck and climbed in. I slammed the door. Dante was standing in front of me. “Do you wish you hadn’t saved my life? Is that it? Do you wish I was dead?”

“Of course not,” I whispered.

He just stood there, looking at me.

I didn’t look back. I started my truck.

“You are the most inscrutable guy in the universe.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess I am.”

Dad and I ate dinner together. We were both quiet. We took turns feeding Legs scraps of food. “Mom wouldn’t approve.”

“No, she wouldn’t.”

We smiled awkwardly at each other.

“I’m going bowling. You want to go?”

“Bowling?”

“Yeah. Sam and I, we’re going bowling.”

“You’re going bowling with Dante’s dad?”

“Yeah. He invited me. I thought it would be good to get out. You and Dante want to come along?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“You guys have an argument?”

“No.”

I called Dante on the phone. “Our dads are going bowling tonight.”

“I know.”

“My dad wanted to know if we wanted to go.”

“Tell him no,” Dante said.

“Okay.”

“I have a better idea.”

Mr. Quintana picked my dad up to go bowling. I thought that was really strange. I didn’t even know my dad bowled. “Boys’ night out,” Mr. Quintana said.

“Don’t drink and drive,” I said.

“Dante’s wearing off on you,” he said. “What’s happened to that respectful young man?”

“He’s still here,” I said. “I’m not calling you Sam, am I?”

My dad shot me a look.

“Bye,” I said.

I watched them drive off. I looked at Legs, “Let’s go.” She hopped in the truck and we drove to Dante’s house. He was sitting on the front porch, talking to his mother. I waved. Legs and I leapt out of the truck. I walked up the stairs and leaned down and gave Mrs. Quintana a kiss. The last time I’d seen her, I’d said hi and shaken her hand. I’d felt stupid. “A kiss on the cheek will do, Ari,” she’d said. So that was our new greeting.

The sun was setting. Even though it had been a really hot day, the breeze was picking up, the clouds were gathering, and it looked like it might storm. Looking at Mrs. Quintana’s hair in the breeze made me think of my mother. “Dante’s making a list of names for his baby brother.”

I looked at Dante. “What if it’s a girl?”

“He’ll be a boy.” There was no doubt in his voice. “I like Diego. I like Joaquin. I like Javier. Rafael. I like Maximiliano.”

“Those names sound pretty Mexican,” I said.

“Yeah, well, I’m shying away from ancient classical names. And besides, if he has a Mexican name, then maybe he’ll
feel
more Mexican.”

The look on his mother’s face told me they’d had this discussion more than a few times.

“What about Sam?” I said.

“Sam’s okay,” he said.

Mrs. Quintana laughed. “Does the mother get a say?”

“No,” Dante said. “The mother just gets to do all the work.”

She leaned over and kissed him. She looked up at me. “So you two are going stargazing?”

“Yeah, stargazing with the naked eye. No telescopes,” I said. “And it’s us three. You forgot Legs.”

“Nope,” she said, “Legs is staying with me. I feel like some company.”

“Okay,” I said. “If you want.”

“She’s a wonderful dog.”

“Yeah, she is. So you like dogs now?”

“I like Legs. She’s sweet.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sweet.”

It’s almost as if Legs knew what the score was. When Dante and I hopped into the truck, she stayed right beside Mrs. Quintana. How strange, I thought, that dogs sometimes understood the needs and behaviors of human beings.

Mrs. Quintana called out to me before I started the truck. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.”

“Remember the rain,” she said.

AS I WAS DRIVING TOWARD MY SPOT IN THE DESERT,
Dante took out the goods. He waved the two joints in the air.

We both smiled, then laughed.

“You’re a bad boy,” I said.

“You’re a bad boy too.”

“Just what we’ve always wanted to be.”

“If our parents knew,” I said.

“If our parents knew,” he said.

We laughed.

“I’ve never done this.”

“It’s not hard to learn.”

“Where’d you score this?”

“Daniel. This guy I work with. I think he likes me.”

“Does he want to kiss you?”

“I think so.”

“Do you want to kiss him back?”

“Not sure.”

“But you talked him into giving you some pot, didn’t you?”

Even though I kept my eye on the road, I knew he was smiling.

“You like talking people into things, don’t you?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

There was lightning in the sky and thunder and the smell of rain.

Dante and I got out of the truck. We didn’t say a word. He lit the joint, inhaled, then held the smoke in his lungs. Then finally, he let it out. Then he did it again, and handed the joint to me. I did exactly as he did. I have to say I liked the smell, but the pot was harsh in my lungs. I fought not to cough. If Dante didn’t cough, then I wasn’t going to cough. We sat there passing the joint until it was gone.