Like a Love Story(27)

Stephen enters the living room. He’s wearing a red apron and his face is flushed. “Tonight, we celebrate. The price of that goddamn drug has come down.”

Yes, there are things to celebrate. Things much more important than one dumb rejection. “It’s such good news,” I say, trying hard to sound excited about it.

“I can’t believe it happened so fast,” Judy adds.

“The world can change,” Stephen says. “If you fight hard enough for that change. Don’t forget that.”

The world has changed. It all feels so different now. Something between me and Judy feels broken, and I want to repair it. But how? And does she even feel it?

“The price is still ridiculously high,” Stephen says. “But it’s a step. And we have some plans to keep the pressure on.”

“He’s making arroz con pollo,” Judy says. That was José’s favorite dish. Stephen only makes it when he wants to summon José’s spirit, when he wants him in the room with us.

“He deserves to be here tonight,” Stephen says. “He would have loved this moment. And don’t worry, Art, my dear. For you, I have also made arroz con tofu.” Stephen takes the apron off and wipes his face with it. That’s when I notice he’s drenched. He’s always sweating, but tonight it’s more extreme. I tell myself it’s because he’s been cooking. Everyone sweats when they’re in the kitchen. Stoves and ovens are hot. It’s normal. Reza was sweating too, and that didn’t mean he was dying. I tell myself to stop worrying about Stephen. He hates concern. “Before the guest of honor arrives . . . ,” Stephen says, and he sits next to me and leans in close to me conspiratorially, “tell me everything I need to know.”

“He’s just a guy,” Judy says.

Stephen holds his hand up to silence her. “She’s too embarrassed to tell me what I need to know. Art, speak.”

“Um, he’s from Iran,” I say.

“I know that,” Stephen says.

“He’s nice,” I say.

Stephen looks at me, disappointed. Judy also looks at me, like she knows something is up. Because she knows that I would normally have a lot more to say than this.

“Okay, well neither of you is divulging anything of interest,” Stephen says.

“He’s cool,” I say. “And I think . . . I think he’s not like American guys, you know. Like, he’s into Madonna. When I was picking up my bag at his place, he had posters of her on his wall.”

“Interesting,” Stephen says. “It’s the rare icon who can reel in both straight and gay men. Of course, straight men want to screw her, and gay men want to be her.”

“Great,” Judy says. “He likes ’em in killer shape. That’ll work in my favor.”

“He also likes them daring and stylish,” Stephen says. “And like a virgin.”

“Ew, Uncle Stephen. Can we talk about something else?” Judy asks. “I’m already nervous enough.”

Stephen smiles and says, “Nope, can’t talk about anything else.” He stands up next to Judy now and holds her hands. “My baby girl’s first date. This is your first date, right?”

“Yes,” she says with pride. “Of course. I would’ve told you. We have no secrets.”

“Speak for yourself,” Stephen says. “I have a secret or two, but nothing you kids need to know about now.”

I think about Stephen’s secrets. I think about the one thing he has never told me: who made him sick. Was it José? Or was it someone else? Did Stephen have it first, or did José have it first? And does Stephen even care? Does it even matter who gave it to who?

“Well, I don’t have any secrets,” Judy says.

I have secrets. I have guilt. I have shame. Stephen said once that getting AIDS helped free him from the last remnants of shame inside him. “I shame my shame,” he said. I wish I could do that now, but I can’t. My shame is too fresh.

Then Judy says, “Where is he?”

Where is he? A very good question. He should’ve come up by now. I told him to wait a few minutes, but it’s been more. Did he go home? Is he done with us all? Have I ruined my best friend’s chance with him?

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Stephen says. “So tonight, I was thinking we could watch Ziegfeld Girl. We haven’t seen that one in ages, and it’s a safe choice for your new friend.”

Ziegfeld Girl, a movie we’ve seen before. Stephen loves it because it stars not one but three of his favorite actresses, Judy Garland, Lana Turner, and Hedy Lamarr. Judy loves it because the fashion is insane. Gowns and capes and diamonds and crowns made from stars. I love it because it’s about sisterhood, about three women who couldn’t be more different but who stand with each other in solidarity. And the first time we saw it, that’s what I thought we were. Me and Judy and Stephen, sisters in solidarity. A tribe.

“Sure,” Judy says. She seems more concerned now.

Where is he?

I think about Lana Turner, and about how Stephen once told us that even though she and Ava Gardner dated and married all the same men, they were also great friends. Maybe Judy and I can be like Lana and Ava. Maybe we can both have Reza and still remain great friends. If it worked for them, why couldn’t it work for us? But then I remember Reza doesn’t even want me. And that Lana and Ava were both gorgeous women, so of course they were both desired, and of course they remained friends because if their man strayed, they could attract another with a snap of their fingers.