Milán #2
Once we’ve all finished our slices of birthday cake, Jordan’s father shoos us out of the kitchen to deal with the dishes, and we migrate into the living room.
Kira goes to the record player on the table in the corner of the room and starts to shuffle through vinyls.
After a while, she pulls out one and looks at Jordan.
“I can’t believe you still have this.”
Jordan gets up and goes to stand next to her. “One of the best records I own,” he says with a laugh. “Come on, it’s a classic.”
“I used to tease him so much about liking this.” Kira laughs. “Great guy. Horrible taste in music.”
“Says the girl I once took to see that terrible boy band three nights in a row.” Jordan grins at Kira.
“Oh, they were so dreamy,” she says with an exaggerated sigh, and both she and Jordan share that secret smile of having a joint memory.
There’s a spark in her eyes as she pulls out another record, throws Jordan a look, and puts it on.
“Remember this?” she asks.
It’s one of those cheesy ballads about being perfect the way you are.
Jordan lets out a mock groan.
“Our song,” he says and presses his palm to his chest before they both start to laugh.
Kira extends her arm. “You have to dance with me now. For old times’ sake.”
“Is that how it works?”
“I’m afraid it’s the law.” She gives him a serious nod.
“In that case, how could I refuse?”
He’s an excellent dancer, and I’m not sure how I’m supposed to play it straight and keep my eyes off them as Jordan deftly and confidently guides Kira around the furniture and the people in the room in a makeshift waltz.
They twirl. They laugh. They dance.
They fit together.
I tell myself I don’t really care.
Just a little bit, if at all.
Not that it matters.
It annoys me that it annoys me.
The song ends and Jordan executes a perfect bow while Kira curtseys.
“Your turn, Wren,” she says, and beckons to her brother.
Jordan comes and sits down next to me.
“You’re a good dancer,” I say.
He grins, shoulder pressed against mine so I can barely concentrate. “We had a ballroom dancing course thrust upon us in eighth grade. It’s come in handy over the years. I used to waltz around the bedroom with Theo when he refused to sleep at night.”
“He used to fall asleep on Theo’s bedroom floor, holding his hand through the crib,” Kira calls out as she and Wren whirl past the couch. “He took all the night shifts because I’m useless when I don’t get my sleep, and Jordan always handled it so much better.”
Aren’t we all? And anyway, wouldn’t it make more sense to divide sleepless nights? I glance at Jordan, who’s smiling calmly, showing no sign of being annoyed about what Kira said. I’m kind of annoyed on his behalf, though.
Jordan leans his head against the backrest. He’s so close that it’s almost like he’s leaning on my shoulder.
It takes considerable effort to keep my breathing even. To look normal. As if nothing at all is going on with me, even if it feels like I’m burning up inside.
Rory and Theo have wandered off somewhere.
“They’re in Dad’s workshop,” Jordan says with his uncanny ability to read my mind.
I glance at him.
“It’s in the basement.” Jordan yawns. “Theo likes to hang out with Remy, and Rory’s been down there a few times when they’ve hung out here after their soccer tutoring.”
“He doesn’t mind?” I ask.
Jordan shakes his head. “Dad likes the company.”
Dog trots into the room as if on cue, comes and sits down in front of Jordan, and tilts his head to the side. He looks much better already, almost like a whole different dog. The bald spots in his fur have started to fill in, and he doesn’t look like he’s starving anymore. Plus he’s clean.
“Yeah, buddy. You want to go outside. I know,” Jordan says. “I’ll take you.”
He gets up.
“I’ll go with you,” I say.
“It’s cold out there,” he says with a teasing grin. “You sure you’re up for that?”
No.
“I could use some fresh air,” I say.
We both head to the hallway and bundle up while Dog waits at the front door. It’s honestly not that cold outside, but the difference from the warm living room is stark enough that I give an involuntary shudder.
Jordan throws me an amused look. “You can go back inside. I won’t hold it against you.”
“I’m fine. It’s nice out here. I’d go so far as to say toasty.”
He laughs out loud, takes his wool beanie off, steps closer, and pulls it over my head.
“There,” he says. “Now you won’t die.”
Suddenly it’s difficult to remember how to make words.
“You’ll be cold, though,” I finally manage to say.
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me.”
That’s the problem, though.
I want to.
He starts to walk, and I take a few quick steps to catch up to him and Dog. There are city noises everywhere around us, but this street is quiet, save for an occasional car passing by and people here and there.
“I once drove my bike straight into that tree.” Jordan points to a red maple.
“Was that on a dare or…?” I quirk my brow at him.
“A race. I lost control of the bike. Got a concussion and five stitches.” He points to a spot on his forehead, near his temple.
“You have a lot of history here.” I look around, almost like I’m expecting to see a screen with a film reel playing on a loop, showing a much younger Jordan getting up to all sorts of trouble.
“A bunch,” he agrees.
We walk down the street, both silent for a bit. We pass a small park, and Dog tries to chase after a squirrel with relentless determination.
“Obedience school,” Jordan says darkly once he’s managed to wrangle Dog into behaving again. “Be prepared. It’s in your immediate future.”
“Sorry.” I wince when Dog looks like he’s ready to go for another round with any willing bird or animal that has the misfortune of getting in his way.
“He’s young and dumb. We’ve all been there.”
“Yeah. I still kind of feel bad. I could’ve taken him out myself, so you could’ve stayed at home and spent Theo’s birthday with your family.”
“We’ve been out here fifteen minutes. I doubt I’ll be hopelessly missed,” he says with a laugh before he sobers. “Besides, I wanted to get a moment away anyway.”
“How come?”
He shakes his head. “Kira told me we need to talk, so I’ve been on the edge the whole day.”
“Talk about what?”
“Don’t know for sure.”
“But you can take a stab at what it is?”
He sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair. “Could be anything. Lately she’s been talking about what happens when Theo goes to high school. San Francisco has good schools.”
I scoff. “So does New York.”
He shrugs. “Sure. It might also be about me.”
“What about you?”
“She’s getting a divorce,” he says, eyes on the sky.
“Okay? Not from you, though, so I don’t see how that matters?”
“It doesn’t. Technically.” He laughs, but there’s no mirth in it, and it peters out quickly. “All the individual choices you make in life contribute to how everything turns out for you.” He glances at me. “Right?”
I nod.
“But then, because of those choices, there will also be moments when you look back on your life and have at least a few what-ifs. Kira gets those what-ifs whenever her relationships end, which is about the time she’ll inevitably conclude that I’m the one that got away.
Then she’ll make a move, and it’ll be awkward and mess everything up for a while. ”
“You’ll reject her, and she’ll be butthurt.”
“Pretty much. We’re having dinner tomorrow, which now feels a bit like an ambush. It’s going to be a mess, and I’m not looking forward to it.”
We’ve made it back to Jordan’s house.
“Tell her something came up.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll work.”
I consider him for a bit. “Well… I’m free tomorrow. And I usually eat dinner. And I’m just enough of an asshole to enjoy running this kind of interference.”
He tilts his head to the side just the tiniest bit and studies me. “You’d do that?”
“For you? Yeah.”
One moment he’s looking at me, the next I’m engulfed in a tight hug.
It’s brief. Too brief.
Jordan pulls away and smiles at me.
“Thanks,” he says.
“Anytime.”
I say it like a promise.
And I mean it like a promise.