Chapter 20 #2
He circled his wrist with his hand again, gripping.
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No,” Anna said with a small roll of her eyes. Her gaze settled to the side, not quite looking at him. Cassiel glanced at the door, then back to her. “He loves to talk but only when he thinks he can make it funny. So whatever happened wasn’t funny. Mom and Dad were freaked out.”
She paused, sorting her words.
“He’s always been like this. Well—kind of.
Our mom used to think he was the easy one.
When he was a kid we never had to worry about him.
” She grinned in a lopsided way that reminded Cassiel of May, though their demeanors could not have been more different.
“I think maybe we just didn’t know when to worry about him. ”
Cassiel kept still. He could not imagine a May who would want to be worried about.
“May disappears if you let him,” Anna continued, looking up to meet Cassiel’s eyes.
“I’m not saying that’s your responsibility, it’s just…
what he’s like. He’ll find the best hiding place during hide-and-go-seek and nobody can find him, so he’ll just stay there.
Everybody gives up, moves on to another game, and he’s still there, because nobody came to get him.
By the time someone’s like, ‘Where is he?’—”
He would still be there, hiding, saying nothing, because the rules said don’t come out unless you’re found, and he was not found. To call back would be breaking the rules. Worse, it would be cheating. Cassiel knew because he had been the same child.
“I’m sorry,” Anna laughed, interrupting herself. “That makes no sense. I just mean, like—”
“I understand,” he said.
Anna exhaled through her mouth and finished what was in her glass.
Cassiel opened his mouth, flexing his fingers.
He could tell her some version of the night.
He had just settled on the words when the restaurant’s front door opened again.
May came back through first, heading back to the table.
Louis followed behind, his hands jammed into his hoodie pockets, scowling.
Anna touched May’s arm. May glanced at her, then at Cassiel, smiled sheepishly.
“Sorry,” May said.
“You’re done?” Anna asked, though it was hardly a question, looking between the brothers.
“So done.” May winked at Louis, who did not return the gesture in kind. May exhaled and reached for his ginger ale. “Right?”
“Shut up,” Louis said, and May laughed. So that was that.
The pappardelle had cooled. Cassiel ate two more bites because waste bothered him and the texture was mostly unchanged.
“I’m glad you came tonight,” Anna said.
Cassiel looked up. “Thank you for inviting me.”
May had stopped eating. His plate was half-finished, the sauce congealing under the light.
Cassiel said, “I’m going to head out.” To the table, not to May. “Early morning.” He flagged the server. “I’ll cover ours. Separately.”
“You don’t have to—” Anna started, and Cassiel was already handing over his card.
“It was good to meet you,” Cassiel said to Anna. “Louis.”
Louis met his eyes. Whatever was happening behind them wasn’t something Cassiel could name confidently. “Yeah,” he said. “You too.”
May stood. He picked up the jacket from the chair and held it out to Louis. “Give this back to Dad.”
“Don’t be stupid, it’s freezing.” Louis didn’t take it. “He’s not gonna miss it.”
May held it out for another second, shaking it performatively. Louis rolled his eyes, another refusal. May shrugged and put the jacket on, the shoulders sagging past his own.
Cassiel put his own jacket on.
Anna hugged May tight—her hand on the back of his neck, May’s face in her shoulder, lasting three seconds, four.
“Text me tomorrow,” Anna said.
“I will.”
“About breakfast. May.”
“I will.”
Louis raised a hand. “Later, Stock Photo.”
Cassiel looked at him.
“Bye, Louis!” May said cheerily, steering Cassiel toward the door with a hand on his arm. Sixteen days since he’d last touched him.
The gale off the bay funneled down Third Street between the warehouse walls, the T-Third tracks gleaming wet under the streetlights. A couple passed them by, their heads down.
They were standing apart again, May next to Cassiel in the borrowed jacket. The sleeves hung to his fingertips and the red scarf bunched at the collar. He looked like a kid wearing his father’s clothes.
“Thanks,” May said. His voice was hoarse. “For coming. And sorry about Louis. And—I know I owe you things. I owe you… words. Your mom, too. I went to Sunny’s—I forgot to tell you.”
“I know. Minju told me. —I don’t want your words.” More edge than intended. Cassiel adjusted. If he was speaking to someone who was trying to disappear, he couldn’t allow it. “You don’t owe me, I wanted to come. My mother—she’s just worried about you.”
May laughed. “Right. Yeah. Everyone’s worried about me.” He scuffed his shoe against the concrete. Cassiel looked at him. The shoes, the jeans, the bulk of the jacket. It had been bothering him all night. It had bothered him since he found him sitting on his step.
“Swap with me,” Cassiel said.
May looked at him. “What?”
He was already unzipping his bomber. The wind cut through his button-down. “Your jacket. Give it here.”
“Cassiel, what the hell?”
“It doesn’t fit you. Swap with me.”
May stared at him for two seconds. Then he shook his head, pulled off the jacket, took the offered bomber and put it on.
The shoulders sat correctly, give or take an inch.
The sleeves were still longer than a good fit would dictate, but they didn’t swallow his hands and the collar lay flat.
It was better. The color was darker than anything he was used to seeing on May, but the indigo suited him and it made the red of his scarf stick out brighter.
Cassiel slipped on the trucker jacket. Too wide in the chest, roomy in the underarm, but the sleeves hit at the wristbone.
“Happy?”
Cassiel nodded.
“Great,” May said. “—Are you thirsty?”