The Luckiest (3 page)

Now, Stephanie and David hustle Aaron up the stairs to one of the bedrooms lining the main hall. He’s back in the room he shared with his cousin Josh the last time they were here, and Stephanie tells him he’s here on his own this time. They’ve moved in an extra table for Aaron to use as a workstation—right by the window, so the light will be good—and he moves to it to set up his sewing machine and start unpacking. David waves and leaves, and then it’s back to Stephanie talking a mile a minute about everything that’s happened since the last time they were together: the editors who have called and then not called; her plan to go back to look for an apartment; her thoughts on what kind of job she should take while she’s waiting for the real thing to happen; the scourge of the unpaid internship and her parents’ feelings on the topic; how her mother thinks she should come home to Houston and work there, or maybe Dallas, or maybe Atlanta—any one of the Southern cities with newly thriving black communities, with a heavy emphasis on
South
. It’s the usual chatter, the stuff they’re all talking about now that graduation has come and gone and they are supposed to be adults.

While he sets up and Stephanie continues to monologue at him, he thinks about the last time he was in this room. Josh wasn’t part of anything they were doing for the newspaper—that had never been his thing—but was there that weekend ostensibly because he was Aaron’s ride, which was ridiculous, because Aaron had his car and had been driving it for over a year; it was the easiest thing they could think of to tell themselves and all the parents. It was much easier than admit­ting that Josh and Stephanie couldn’t stay away from each other, but also had
no idea
what to do with each other. Nik had come down during the day, and so had Andres and Joe, and Aaron remembers that week-long visit as the last burst of childhood. Stephanie’s mother had been there, supervising everything they did with that tight smile on her face, and Aaron never woke up and noticed Josh missing; midnight visitations could not have happened with Mrs. Baxter around. One night, though, Aaron woke up in the small hours to see Josh sitting in a chair by the window with his feet propped up on the wall, slapping the cord of the blinds against the glass over and over. Aaron remembers asking him, “What are you doing awake?”

Josh hadn’t looked at him, hadn’t paused in beating out his rhythm when he said, “Trying to figure out if I ever want to be good enough.”

Idiot that he was then, Aaron didn’t want to ask what he meant. He never did find out, although now he has some ideas of his own. That same chair is still by the window.

It’s oddly soothing, being chattered at by Stephanie, and by the time he finishes attaching his foot pedal and settling his odds and ends on the table, he feels at home. He works hard using skills both picked up from his mother and self-taught, a variety of things that will help him keep his head above water. He can sew, bake, cook, decorate; he has earned style, grace and sophistication through his own explorations rather than been given them by virtue of his birth. Aaron has always thought of Stephanie as something like his photonegative, and he doesn’t only mean the colors of their skin. She’ll never be the hostess her mother wants her to be, but she has always been very determined to be very good at one thing: Journalism. And she is.

He is gazing out the window into the deepening darkness, still absentmindedly listening to Stephanie, when Nik’s car pulls into the last empty spot in front of the house.

Nik steps out of the car and into the circle of a streetlight, and Aaron freezes. He’s definitely shifted into summer Nik—khaki shorts, faded gray T-shirt with the ubiquitous orange longhorn on the front, aviator sunglasses propped on his head even this long after dark, hair a little wild. He looks a bit like the frat boys he knows Nik can’t help hanging out with, happy and careless and filled with life, and so different from the kid he was back when they met that, despite everything, Aaron can’t help but feel the strangest surge of pride. Nik is tanned and smiling, and Aaron’s whole body longs for him. Just for a moment, he wishes he could still be angry; surely that would hurt less. For now—as he has for years—he just feels abandoned.

“He looks good, doesn’t he?” Stephanie’s voice is soft beside him, and he tears his eyes from Nik so he can turn to face her.

“He always does.”

He always
has
; it’s part of the problem. From the first time they laid eyes on each other, back when they were awkward high school freshmen, Aaron has thought Nik is cute.

That day, Aaron was sitting on the band bus next to Alex, his stupid shaker hat resting on top of the saxophone case clenched between his knees while he leaned against the window. They’d just pulled into the parking lot at the stadium for a march­ing band com­petition, and there
he
was, short and scrawny and standing five feet from everybody else, but grinning at his feet with his trumpet dangling from his left hand as if he’d forgotten it was there because the joke he was telling him­self was so funny. He looked up as the bus trundled by, just some Indian kid in a marching band uniform, and for some rea­son Aaron smiled at him and Nik smiled back. Six months later, Aaron was sitting in a classroom with nerves swimming in his belly, preparing for a regional social studies writing con­test, when a boy named Nikhil Warren found his assigned seat next to him and Aaron recognized him. And even then, even before they were friends, even before they finished grow­ing, even back then, Nik had looked good to him.

Aaron knew Nik intimately for just a few years, but they were important ones, and there was a time when Aaron was sure he knew everything about Nik. They grew up together in all the ways that mattered, and Aaron understood everything about Nik and somehow never got bored—he’s still not sure how that worked, and has never found anything else quite like it.

There are only two mysteries left about Nik, really: Aaron will never understand what made Nik stop loving him, or what he did to make Nik shy away just when Aaron needed him the most. And he’ll never know why he smiled at Nik that first time—it was out of character even then, when he thought nobody would be able to tell he was gay if he stayed quiet and hid in plain sight. That easy smile is even more anom­alous now, but still he leans against the window, look­ing down at Nik, and knows he’s smiling; he can feel it stretching his cheeks.

When Stephanie talks again, he startles even though her voice is soft and conspiratorial. “He broke up with Ollie, did you know?”

“I heard—we talked at Christmas, a little bit.” It had been a good conversation, actually—they’ve been getting better. At Christmas they’d stood in Alex’s kitchen and laughed, talked about Nik’s application package for grad school and his student teaching. Today will be the first time Aaron has seen him since then, and he’s not sure what to expect.

“Do you think—” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“I don’t see how. Nothing’s changed.”

“That’s exactly my point.” Her jaw is fixed; her chin is stubborn. She’s so resolute, so eager to convince people that she knows exactly what needs to be done. She’s always been like that: When they were in preschool she had firm opinions about snack time. Even if it’s what makes her such a powerful journalist, it’s still irritating as hell; even though he’s known her for way too long and clearly sees the way her frustration makes her vibrate and her tight curls shake, he doesn’t like having to butt heads with her every five minutes. Stephanie is the only person he’s ever known who elicits this combination of furiousness and fondness just by the way she loves him. He kisses her forehead.

“No. No, I mean everything’s changed. I’m there, he’s… wherever he is.” Her eyes want to argue when he pulls away, but that’s nothing new. “I mean it, Steph—don’t. Leave it alone.”

“Okay.” And her voice is so gentle, so sweet. This is why, despite everything, he loves her. “Are you going to be okay?”

He feels anxious and brittle. His face wears a pathetic rictus of a smile, but it’s the best he can do on what suddenly seems like far too little notice. “Stephanie Baxter, I’m going to be fabulous.” He turns back to the window, and Nik is looking up at him. He’s too far away for Aaron to make out his expression; the light from the street and the porch is too dim to be much help. But Aaron can see him raise his hand in a little wave and smile brightly. Aaron feels his own expression warm and he nods back, slowly, just one time, before he steps back from the window.

Stephanie squeezes his hand. “Get it together, A.W. They went to get food—let’s face the audience and eat dinner.”

Aaron looks in the mirror. His fair hair is a little poofier than he might ordinarily wear it, thanks to the humidity, but that’s nothing unusual on the Gulf Coast. No tan, not unusual either. But out of all his button-down shirts, this one makes his eyes look the most blue instead of pale gray, and the washed-out jeans he usually wears during summers home fit him well; his skin is clear and the circles that appear and disappear under his eyes seem to have taken the summer off. If he wishes his jaw were a little more square and a little less elfin, well, that’s hardly anything new. He gives himself a smile and a little shake, and then they go.

Downstairs, the room is full of people. Tu Dao, always the shortest member of David and Nik’s mini-United Nations gang of friends from their high school days, went with Nik to pick up the pizza; now, Aaron almost runs smack into him as he steps off the stairs. Tu ended up at Purdue and hasn’t been back often, so it’s been years since they’ve seen each other, but when Tu shakes Aaron’s hand with a friendly but solemn smile, Aaron is unsurprised to learn that Tu is as earnest as always. It seems easier to deal with now, though. Tu always seemed so adult, even when they were in high school, and maybe Aaron has caught up to him. They chatter about internships and school and, after they collect slices from the boxes already strewn across the table and are still leaning against the sideboard closest to the stairs, carefully balancing their paper plates amid and atop a collection of picture frames and figurines, Nik comes over with drinks. He passes Tu a Sam Adams and presses a Diet Coke into Aaron’s hand.

Beaming, Nik asks, “Hey, Aaron. How’s your mom?”

“Hey. I think she’s fine—it’s possible I overreacted. That’s what she and Karen are telling me, anyway.” And just like that, it’s done; he’s made first contact.

Nik keeps smiling; his expression is warm. His tan shows off the gray-green of his eyes—Aaron doesn’t know why he is still so surprised by them. “I’m really glad to hear it. Hey, we should talk later, catch up a little!”

Aaron nods, says, “That sounds good,” and then Nik is gone again, off to pass out more drinks.

When Aaron turns back, Tu is looking at him a little sadly; the smile has faded from his eyes. Aaron feels his face go hard, cold, and he’s ready to throw up his usual defenses when Tu asks about what comes next for him.

His grad school patter comes easily by now; he’s already performed it twice for neighbors and friends of his mom’s in the few days since he’s been home. It’s such a relief to talk about nothing of consequence with somebody he barely knows anymore.

* * *

Paper plates and pizza boxes have been shoved into too few trash bags. Mia has just discovered the dual blend­ers Steph­anie’s dad keeps behind the bar. Aaron leans against Jasmine and loses himself in the blur of voices and the whir of crushing ice. Jasmine strokes his hair and he lets his eyes close, but then Alex staggers to her feet and addresses them all.

“Okay, people, this is a full house, so cool it for a minute. I have very important news to share.”

“Actually, can you—give me a second,” Mia says from the bar, while she uses one wrist to shove dark wavy hair from her eyes. They all watch her as she shakes a blender pitcher, whacks it against the bar—Aaron’s eyes cut to Stephanie just in time to see her cover her wince—and then sets it on its base and blends its contents one more time. The last chunk of ice gives, and then the noise is a steady, slushy roar. “Got it. Okay, go!”

“Thank you. Okay, Mia is making drinks, but I wanted to let you know that our last member has arrived! Our Wedding Boot Camp can finally begin!” Aaron grins down at his lap at the capital letters in Alex’s voice and joins in a round of cheers, then gives her jazz hands that make Jasmine laugh into his shoulder. “I have a list here somewhere…” David hands her a piece of paper. “Right, so here’s the job list.”

“Stephanie is our hostess, so she’s in charge of rentals and basically making sure we don’t burn the place down. Jasmine will
do my bidding
for the week, which is awesome, and actually, so will Aaron.”

Stephanie snorts. “Good luck with that.” Nik elbows her in the side. Aaron raises a brow at him, and Nik is
still
smiling at him. He doesn’t miss the way Jasmine draws in her breath.

“Nik belongs to David, and of course he’s doing the music, and Tu is acting as photographer.” Aaron shoots a glance at Tu; he’d had no idea. “Mia and Nicole, my all-time favorite sorority sisters, are doing the food like the bosses they are, and Mia will also be bartender the night of the wedding, which is why she’s my favorite.” There’s a general uproar, but then Mia rounds the bar and starts passing around margaritas and they quickly agree that no, that’s totally fair.

Aaron takes a sip and licks at the salt along the rim of the plastic cup—classy, as always with this crew—and Jasmine murmurs, “Keep that up. He’s still watching.”

“Oh, shut up and drink faster,” Aaron hisses under his breath, staring into his cup until his eyes cross as he takes another drink.

“And I think that’s about it,” Alex finishes. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted this to be a simple thing, just a big house party, really. But I trust you guys, and I know you’ll make it beautiful.”

Aaron looks up again and gives her a wink.

“In the meantime, though, we have this house for a week, because Stephanie’s parents are
awesome
. Stephanie, what should we do?”

The suggestions start off silly and quickly devolve; Aaron stays quietly tucked into Jasmine’s side and accepts a second margarita, resolving not to think about how all the salt and alcohol is going to make him feel tomorrow.