Gone, Gone, Gone(51)

He could have gotten alcohol poisoning.

He could have choked on a wine cork.

He could have gotten cancer.

It could have been Lio. It could have been Lio Lio Lio Lio Lio.

Nothing else matters. And all of it matters, because everything is in the same world as him. Everyone in the whole world is in this room with him.

But tonight it’s all about him, and the whole world is an incubator to make Lio the best man he can be, and I want to help, and I want to be a hand on him, a good hand, and I want everything in this whole world to take care of him. And I am going to help.

Though, the truth is, that kid can take care of himself, and I’m sorry but that is the most spectacular f*cking thing I can ever remember.

I think about Cody, and this isn’t really a decision, not really. The truth is that it never was.

And this all would have been easier if Cody had changed, or if Cody were still truly unavailable and not just inconvenient, or if there were some tangible, understandable reason we couldn’t be together. There isn’t. And the bottom line is, there isn’t any ending here, not really. He hugs me good-bye, and I can tell he wants to kiss me, and I want to kiss him, too, but I hold up my hand and shake my head.

There’s nothing movie-script ending about this, and I still love him, and in the car I think what if what if. I don’t know if I’ll ever get closure, the way Lio says he did when his brother died. It still sucks that we’re not together, and a part of my life will probably always suck because it’s not happening with Cody, but I’m going home, and I’m going home to Lio.

And he comes straight to my house from the airport, and he runs through my door in that zigzag and I shout, “Run, Lio, run,” and I kiss him in my kitchen like I’ve never kissed anyone in my life. It feels a little hilarious, like I’m trying to sweep his whole body into mine. Starting with hands, then arms, then lips.

Then I take his head between both my hands and say, “Are you okay?”

He isn’t pale or scared or throwing up. He’s looking up at me with that smile that could wake the dead. “I’m awesome.” He yanks my head down and kisses me hard.

Yeah. He’s awesome.

“Do you want to talk about seeing Cody?” he asks me. “Must have been hard.”

I shake my head. “I don’t have anything new to say about him. Want to talk about your Mom?”

“I’m not okay with her.”

I nod a little.

“I hate talking.”

I give him a half smile. I hope I look sympathetic.

He breathes out like I’m such a hard thing to put up with, and then he says, “How about I tell you what color I want to paint my room?”

And there’s that grin again.

After he tells me—dark green—we talk some more and we figure out that what we really want to talk about is how we want to spend every possible minute together until our parents make us go back to school.

Because we’re fifteen and kind of stupid, and this is how we do love.

And I know I’ve said enough sappy shit, but this is kind of the way I always wanted to do it.

And when this is all over, and we have to go back to school and come out of my basement and be in the real world and deal with all of the real-world shit, when all of this trickles

and

stops

I am going to help Lio paint his room.





LIO

“SO ARE YOU STILL ANGRY?” ADELLE ASKS ME.

I say, “Not all the time. But mostly, yeah. I’m still pissed off that my mom turned out to be just as much of a useless . . . just as useless as I thought she was. And I wish my dad had more time for me, even though I know he’s trying. And I’m pissed Michelle’s probably going to end up going back to New York for good. And I’m mad Craig still loves Cody.”

She says, “Okay. And in a larger sense?”

“Larger?”

“Less immediate.”

“I guess I wish Cody’s dad hadn’t died in September eleventh, even though Craig and I probably wouldn’t be together right now if he hadn’t. And . . .” I shrug. “I’m still really pissed that my brother died and left us with all this love to figure out how to shift around without him here.”

Adelle studies me. “So what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll probably always be pissed off about all this. It’s not like everything’s suddenly perfect. People are still getting shot all over the place. And not even in Maryland alone. I only care about people in this area more because it’s home.”

“Proximity.”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Fair enough.”

“Go on.” She’s not as afraid of interrupting me anymore.

“I guess . . . it’s hard to believe that things are suddenly going to be okay because people are still going to get shot as far into the future as I can see. And outside of the D.C. suburbs, probably everyone will have forgotten in a few years.”

“But you’ll remember.”

“But maybe I’ll have Craig. That’s what’s important to me right now.”

“You’re allowed to have a rough time, you know.” She’s writing on her pad. “You’re allowed to express that you’re having a rough time too.”