Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World (Aristotle and Dante #2)(27)

I smiled at Emma. And she smiled back. Dante leaned into me, and I let him lean. The silence in the room was almost like a song. And Emma and Dante and me—we were singing the song of silence. Sometimes silence was the only song worth singing.

There are moments in your life that you will always remember. My mother’s voice in my head. It made me happy that her voice lived inside me. I knew I would always remember this moment, and this woman named Emma whom I knew and didn’t know. But I knew this one thing: She was a person who mattered. And that was all I needed to know.

It’s funny, I didn’t ever pay much attention to adults because, well, because I just didn’t think about them and the fact that they had lives like I had a life. I guess I just thought they were in charge and they liked to tell you what to do. I hadn’t really thought about anything except what I felt. Damn, I’d lived in a pretty small fucking world.

And this world I was living in now, it was complicated and confusing—and it sort of hurt to know that other people hurt. Adults. They hurt. And it was a good thing to know that. It was a better world that I was living in now. It was better. And I was better now. It was like I’d been ill. And I was recovering from an illness. But maybe that wasn’t true. I’d just been a stupid kid. And selfish.

Maybe this is what being a man was. Okay, so maybe I wasn’t a man just yet. But maybe I was getting closer.

I wasn’t a boy anymore, that was for sure.





Four


I WAS DRIVING THROUGH A path in the forest looking for a place to camp. Dante was lost in thought and, anyway, I wasn’t exactly relying on him to find a place. There was a small fork in the road, and I could see that it led to a small clearing that was the perfect spot. It seemed later than it was because of all the shade. But I knew we didn’t have a long time before it got dark.

“Let’s get to work.”

“Just tell me what to do.”

“That’s a first.”

We grinned at each other.

There were rocks in a circle where the last campfire had been. Dante and I took out the logs I’d brought from home. I placed a few logs where there were still some ashes and a half-burned log that had been put out. I carried a tin bucket I’d brought filled with twigs and kindling.

“How come you brought all that stuff from home when we could have gathered it all here?”

I grabbed some soil and held it in my fist. “Everything’s damp. Dad said you should come prepared with everything. Because you never know.” I smiled and threw the fistful of dirt so that it hit Dante right in the chest.

“Hey!” But Dante didn’t miss a beat, and we were having a damp soil kind of snowball fight and running around the pickup until we finally got tired.

“Didn’t take us long to get dirty, did it?”

I shrugged. “We came to have fun.” Dante brushed some soil from my face. Then he reached over and kissed me.

We stood there and kissed for a long time. I felt my whole body trembling. I pulled him closer and we kept kissing. And finally I said, “We need to finish setting up camp. Before it gets dark.”

Dante bowed his head and bumped my shoulder. We both looked up at the gathering clouds and listened to the distant thunder. “Let’s get to it.” There it was, that sense of enthusiasm that was rarely absent in the way he spoke. But there was something else in his voice. Something urgent and alive.



* * *



We were sitting around the campfire. We had our coats on, and the cold breeze was threatening to break out into a wind. “It looks like it’s going to storm,” Dante said.

“You think the tent will hold up?”

I nodded. “Oh, Dante, ye of little faith. It’ll hold up.”

“I have a surprise.”

“A surprise?”

He went into the tent and came back holding a bottle of liquor. He was smiling and looking very proud of himself. “I stole it from my dad’s liquor cabinet.”

“You crazy boy. You crazy, crazy boy.”

“They’ll never find out.”

“Like hell.”

“Well, I figured if I’d asked they might have said yes.”

“Really?”

“They might have.”

I shot him a look.

“And you know what they say, It’s better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.”

“Really?” I shook my head and smiled. “How do you get away with—”

“With all the things I get away with? I’m Dante.”

“Oh, that’s the answer? Talk about cocky.”

“So I’m a little cocky sometimes.”

“You stole your dad’s bourbon.”

“Petty theft does not make me a thief—it makes me a rebel.”

“You’re overthrowing your father’s government?”

“No, I’m taking from the rich and giving to the poor. He’s bourbon rich and we’re bourbon poor.”

“That’s because we’re underage. And your mother’s going to massacre you.”

“?‘Massacre’ is such a strong word.”

“I can’t believe you stole a whole bottle of bourbon from your dad. Is it because you enjoy the drama?”