Chapter Twenty-One January 25
Chapter Twenty-one
Theo is sitting across the kitchen table from me, and he’s chewing on his pencil.
It’s this annoying habit I’ve noticed. It’s kind of hard to ignore.
He does it when he’s trying not to get frustrated at me for being unable to “get it.” Math is logical, he says.
How hard is it to follow a formula and arrive at the right answer? He’s such an ass.
Not according to Mom and Dad, though. They think Theo walks on water. He’s the son they always wanted. He’s been tutoring me for three weeks and he doesn’t even knock anymore when he comes over, he just lets himself in.
He’s always so polite. To them.
To me he’s still a bit of a dick.
Which I kind of prefer. It makes pretending New Year’s Eve didn’t happen easier.
Neither of us talk about it—about the crying or what he said about liking me.
At this point, what happened that night is buried so deep in my mind that it’s almost as if it were a dream.
The guy sitting in front of me, chastising me about my piss-poor math skills, is not the same guy I held weeping on his bedroom floor.
“No. You’re not getting it. Try again,” he says, sliding back my practice sheets aggressively. He grabs baklawa from the dish my mom laid out for him on the kitchen table.
I accept the papers as my gaze flits over Theo’s shoulder to the window. Giant snowflakes fall ever so slowly. Is there anything more romantic than a winter sky lit up by fresh snow and a full moon?
“I followed the formulas,” I say, refocusing my attention. There is red pen all over my page. Really encouraging.
“Did you follow the rule?”
“Oh. I guess I missed that.”
“This is your last practice before exams, Hadid. Let’s go.” He narrows his eyes at me like he’s the coach and I’m the quarterback and this is the Super Bowl and it’s the final inning. Or last down? I have no idea.
“You’re obnoxious, you know that?” I say.
“You’re just wound up because John cut you loose.”
I freeze at his words. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head.
“What did John tell you?” I ask, quietly. My parents are in the other room, never too far away.
“Just that you’re not talking anymore. ‘Talking,’ ” he says, making air quotes with a smug-ass grin.
“It was more than that,” I respond, almost in a whisper.
“You sure about that?” Theo asks with a contrarian smirk. “Look, the way I see it, if John really was—”
“Shh,” I say, my eyes shifting to the next room.
“Sorry,” he says, more quietly. “If John really was serious about you, he wouldn’t have let you go. Fool’s move. Someone else’s gain.”
Before I can try and decipher what the hell Theo is trying to say, Dad strolls in.
I pull away from my huddle with Theo and sit up.
“Working hard?” Dad asks, his tone level.
“She’s getting there,” Theo says.
“Thanks to you,” he responds. “Her head is in the clouds more than usual these days.”
“I think we’re all just kind of tired of winter. January is a long month.” Theo offers me a smile. The kind that speaks volumes. You’re welcome. I saved your ass. Watch how easily I have your father wrapped around my finger.
“You’re very patient. More than I could ever be,” Dad says. “Is your mom picking you up? I didn’t see your car out front.”
“No,” Theo says, at the same time pointing aggressively to a calculation on my page. I exhale loudly and erase it. “A friend is.”
“Who?” I ask, looking up from my practice sheet.
“John.”
“John’s coming here?”
“We’re going to Eddie’s to figure out our set list for the Valentine’s Day dance.”
Dad’s eyes shift to the kitchen window. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere. The snow is coming down pretty hard. The drive home from work was ugly. Maybe call your friend and tell him to stay home.”
“Are you suggesting Theo spend the night?” I ask, flabbergasted.
“Lennon, look outside,” Dad says, throwing an arm toward the window. “No one is going anywhere in this weather. At least not in one piece.”
“Of course.” I sink into my seat, tossing my pencil to the table. It bounces, and Theo stops it before it rolls to the floor. “Why don’t we just offer him my bed while we’re at it, and I’ll sleep in the basement?”
“Don’t be rude. Theo comes here to help you. He’s the one who’s stuck.”
“He comes here because you pay him to,” I say, avoiding eye contact with my father as I erase another wrong response. I feel both his and Theo’s burning gaze on my bowed head.
“Actually, I come here for the Paulie cuddles,” Theo says, instantly defusing the situation.
That’s the thing about Theo. I don’t have to explain to him why the mood around here can change within seconds. He understands. He knows how to read my father, and he also knows how to take the heat off me. He does it by charming my family. The only person he hasn’t managed to charm is me.
Georgie comes into the kitchen holding Paulie, who’s just woken up from her third nap. Her shiny, black hair is matted against her rosy cheeks. “Did someone say something about Paulie cuddles?”
“Paulie,” Theo almost sings. He rises from the table and reaches out to my niece, who grins a gummy smile in his presence.
“Clear the table, Lennon,” Dad says as he joins Theo by the kitchen island, gently squeezing Paulie’s chubby fingers.
I quickly gather my homework into a pile. Mom enters the kitchen and nods for me to clean up after Theo as well.
“Excuse me,” I grumble as I squeeze past everyone and make my way into the foyer, where I deposit everything on the hallway table. I’m sure Mom will have something to say about this as well, but right now I don’t care.
The doorbell rings.
I try to shake off my frustration as I open the front door. John is standing on the other side in a blue toque covered in snowflakes. A gust of wind drifts snow into the foyer.
“Sorry,” he says, taking responsibility for the mess on the front mat. His cheeks are red. His bare hands are so white they’re turning blue. He tucks them into his not warm enough for January in Canada coat pockets.
“Come in,” I say, waving him inside and closing the door behind him.
“Theo is in the kitchen being fawned over by my family. Oh wait, no, they’re fawning over Paulie.
” My words come out kind of forced as I try to process the fact that John Brody is inside my house.
Considering our last conversation, I didn’t picture this ever happening.
John doesn’t laugh at my attempt at humor. Good. I hope he’s as miserable as I am. I hope he’s seething with jealousy. I hope he’s been thinking about me every second like I’ve been thinking about him, and I hope he hates himself for what he did and what he said and who he is and how he is.
“Lennon, who’s this?” Dad asks as he steps into the foyer. My body seizes. Dad is meeting John. John is meeting Dad.
“This.” I clear my throat. “Theo’s friend. This guy. He’s John.”
“Do you need some water?” Dad asks, studying my face. John cracks the slightest of grins and I have to suck in my lips to hold back my own nervous version.
John keeps his hands in his pockets and nods. “Hi. Hello. Mr. Sir.”
Dad sighs, rolling his eyes not so discreetly. “How are the roads?”
“Pretty shitty.”
My eyes widen at John’s rough-around-the-edges response. It’s not something I’ve ever noticed before, but standing in the foyer of my home there appears to be a very definite line that’s been drawn dividing him and us. The us that includes Theo Petropolis.
“Well,” Dad says, glancing at me like it’s my fault that Theo’s friend swore, “I don’t think Theo will be joining you. He’s decided to spend the night.”
“Dad,” I say.
“What?”
“If the roads aren’t safe enough for Theo, then they’re not safe enough for John.”
“He got himself here, didn’t he?” Dad says, looking at John while responding to me.
“No, it’s fine, Lennon. I’ll go home.”
“John,” Theo says, entering the foyer, and for once in my life I’m relieved to see him. “I meant to call. Looks like I’m spending the night.” Theo turns to my dad. “George,” he says, “this is John Brody. He plays guitar in our band. He’s also really good with his hands,” he adds, unironically.
Dad nods. My father is a smart man, and I can tell he senses something is up between the three of us. Or more like the two of us.
“I just like to build things, with wood, when I have some free time,” John says. I can’t help but notice how his eyes move around my home.
“Did you learn this from your father?” Dad asks, crossing his arms in front of him. I wish I could blink and open my eyes to find that this was all just a very bad, very weird dream. The vibes are way off.
“Yeah, but I’m also taking woodshop at school. My dad, he, um…” John visibly swallows as his eyes search for somewhere to land. “He had an accident. He fell off his ladder a few years ago, so now he’s on disability.”
My heart drops. Why did he never tell me this? I try to make eye contact with him but he’s looking everywhere but at me. There’s a sense of foreboding in the air. Something I can feel but can’t explain.
“Yalla. Tell this boy to leave,” Dad says to me in Arabic, his voice low and gravelly. The fact that he doesn’t even bother to respond to John tells me more about my dad than I want to admit. Up until this point, I always gave my father the benefit of the doubt. Somehow John knew not to.
Dad turns and walks back to the kitchen, his footsteps loud and purposeful.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly and to no one in particular.
“John should leave through the garage,” Theo blurts. “To avoid letting the snow in. I’ll walk with him. And you can come show us how to open the garage door.”
“It’s literally just a button next to the door,” I say, completely deflated.
Theo clears his throat in a theatrical way. “I think you should show us,” he says, brows raised, eyes opened wide.
“Oh. Right.”
The three of us enter the garage from inside the house. John immediately surveys the new surroundings. An Audi. A Range Rover. And Georgie’s car, Mom’s old Mercedes SUV.
Theo gets inside Mom’s car and closes the door, giving John and me privacy. I’ll have to thank him for this later. Maybe not such an asshole.
“I didn’t know that about your dad,” I say.
He shrugs in response.
“I’m sorry. It must be hard having a parent who isn’t well.”
John sits on Dad’s workbench and nods. “His drinking got worse after he was put on disability. His entire identity was tied to his job. When he lost the ability to work, he lost himself.” John runs his hands up and down his thighs, eyes downcast. “There’s so much on my shoulders, and I can’t complain because my mom really tries to keep the household running, but we obviously need money, so I do a lot of cash jobs on the weekends to help out.
My dad’s friends hook me up. And I take care of Mikey when Mom needs a break.
We’re all just barely hanging on by a thread. ”
His eyes lift to meet mine and I can’t help but see him differently than I did the first time we met.
Instead of the confident, cocky guy who took up space next to me on the bus, there’s a vulnerable, sad boy who seems to want to be part of my world but doesn’t know how.
All those times he pushed me away—he was doing it to protect himself as much as he was doing it for me.
His eyes, little half-moons, return their gaze to the garage floor.
“I come here, and your house is so perfect and your family is so perfect and you are so perfect. And I miss you so much, Lennon, and I hate myself for what I said to you after New Year’s, but being here makes it clear that we made the right decision. ”
“We didn’t make that decision. You did.” I sit next to him. The silence between us grows as I try to process everything that’s happening. Our timeline. The back and forth. The push and pull. This whole time John was dealing with so much at home and never wanted to tell me.
“We’re trying to get my dad help,” he says, cutting through the quiet.
“But it’s hard because he doesn’t always want it.
Mom has threatened to walk away but he knows she won’t because she can’t.
His disability checks keep us afloat. Just barely, but she doesn’t really have any other options.
And she loves him. We all do. We don’t want to walk away from him.
We want to help him.” His eyes are glossy now.
I want so badly to wrap my arms around John, to wipe his tears away, but just being in this garage with him is dangerous enough.
“I didn’t realize you were going through all this. I’ve known you for a year and a half. How am I just learning this about you now?” I ask.
“I didn’t want you to know this side of me.
I kept it from you on purpose. It’s not who I want to be.
I want to be the me I am when I’m around you.
That guy doesn’t worry about all this shit.
But unfortunately,” he sighs, “being around you has gotten hard. It’s hard in the same kind of way it is if you take a pill to forget your problems but once it wears off you’re left feeling even worse.
The relief is temporary. You don’t deserve to be wrapped up in all my bullshit.
I just need some time to figure things out. ”
Dread fills me at John’s words. My heart is racing so fast it feels like someone set it on fire. I’m not a safe space for him, and that idea paralyzes me.
“Where do you see yourself in five years?” he asks.
I tuck my cold hands into the sleeves of my sweater. “New York City. Getting an undergraduate degree in Creative Writing from Columbia.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“It does, doesn’t it? But I may as well dream about sprouting wings and buying a condo on the Equator.”
We laugh quietly.
“What about you?” I ask.
He shrugs and it’s so delicate. Gentle. “I want my dad to be healthy. I want my family to be comfortable. And I want the person I’m with to be happy and proud of me.”
“I’m happy when I’m around you,” I say, no longer worrying about saying the right or wrong things because the truth is always right.
“Same.”
We don’t say anything for a couple of minutes. The howling winds outside draw closer. We’re on borrowed time. Time always feels borrowed when we’re together.
Theo steps out of Mom’s car and looks between us. “We should probably head back inside.”
John nods, rising from the bench.
“Can you text me?” I say to John as I stand. “To let me know you got home safely?”
“Of course.”
John walks to the front of the garage and I press the button of the garage opener. He looks back at me and Theo and offers us a slight nod before disappearing into the snowy skies.
Twenty minutes later he texts that he made it home. I catch Theo’s eye across the table after checking my phone. He offers me a warm smile and I return it.
I “heart” John’s message but don’t respond.
He’s the right person, I know this with everything inside me. But it’s not the right time for us.
Both things can be true.