Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World (Aristotle and Dante #2)(32)

“Do you think she even reads that list?”

“Of course she reads it.”

“How much influence do you think you really have?”

“Well, I’m sure I’m about to find out. What do you think of these names: Rodrigo, Maximo, Sebastian, Sergio, Agustin, or Salvador?”

“I like Rodrigo.”

“Me too.”

“She might be a girl. Why don’t you want a sister?”

“I don’t know. I just want a brother.”

“A heterosexual brother.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“You think your parents will love him more than they love you?”

“Of course not. But he’ll give them grandchildren.”

“How do you know he’ll want kids? How do you know your parents want grandchildren?”

“Everyone wants to have kids. And everyone wants to have grandchildren.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” I said.

“It’s mostly true.” Dante had this I’m certain look on his face.

“I’m not sure I’d ever want to be a dad.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t picture me as a father. Not that I really think about it much.”

“Too busy thinking about me?” He was smirking.

“Yeah, that must be it, Dante.”

“No, I mean, seriously, Ari? You wouldn’t want to be a dad?”

“No, I don’t think so. Does that disappoint you?”

“No. Yes. No, it’s just that—”

“It’s just that you think there’s something wrong with someone who doesn’t wanna have kids.”

Dante didn’t say anything.

I knew it was no big deal. But I realized Dante could be judgmental. I hadn’t noticed that about him before. Not that I was above being judgmental. Everybody was—especially the people who claimed that they weren’t. I guess I thought Dante was above that. He was a mere mortal like everyone else. Hey, he wasn’t perfect. He didn’t need to be. I sure as hell wasn’t perfect. Not even close. And he loved me. Imperfect, fucked-up me. Nice. Sweet. Wow.





Seven


I WANTED TO ASK ARI what he knew about AIDS. I wanted to ask him if he thought about it. More than four thousand gay men had died of it. I’d watched the news with my parents, two days before Dante and I had left to go camping. We saw images of candlelight vigils in San Francisco and New York, and afterward, we didn’t talk about it. A part of me was glad that there hadn’t been some kind of discussion. And I knew that Dante knew something about it because his parents talked about things that were happening in the world all the time.

I wondered if Dante and I just weren’t ready to talk about something that was probably going to affect our lives. And why the hell was I thinking about this just as we were on the outskirts of the city?



* * *



When I pulled up into the driveway, my mom and Legs were sitting on the front steps, my mom reading a book.

Legs sat up and barked. I thought of the day I found her. I thought of me, my legs in a cast. I sat next to her and kissed the top of her head.

Dante reached down and hugged my mom.

“Nice,” she said. “You both smell like smoke.”

Dante smiled. “Ari turned me into a real camper.” He sat on the front steps and started loving on Legs.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I turned Dante into a regular Eagle Scout.”

My dad came out of the house. “Back in one piece, I see.” He looked over at Dante. “He wasn’t too hard on you, was he?”

“No, sir. And I learned how to pitch a tent.”

The wiseass in me almost wanted to say, And we also learned how to have sex. All of a sudden, I felt a little ashamed of myself. I almost felt myself blushing. Shame. Where did that word come from? For that one moment, I felt dirty. I felt like I’d done something really, really dirty.

It was so easy just to be with Dante. When we touched, it seemed like it was something pure. What wasn’t easy was learning how to live in the world, with all of its judgments. Those judgments managed to make their way into my body. It was like swimming in a storm at sea. Any minute, you could drown. At least it felt like that. One minute the sea was calm. And then there was a storm. And the problem, with me, anyway, was that the storm lived inside me.



* * *



It was good to be back in my own truck. Dante started to take off his shoes. “Don’t you think it would be better idea if you showed up wearing tennis shoes?”

Dante smiled. Then tied his shoelaces.

As I pulled up in front of his house, I glanced over at Dante. “Are you ready to face the music?”

“It’s like I said, they probably didn’t even notice.”

I shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out. Unless you want to go alone.”

He shot me a look. “Oh, what the hell, come in and say hi to my mom and dad.”



* * *



Mr. Quintana was sitting in his chair, reading a book, and Mrs. Quintana was reading a magazine. They both looked up and smiled at us when we walked in the door. “I can smell the smoke from here,” Mrs. Quintana said.