The Shape of My Heart

by Ann Aguirre

  Max shook his head. “It was... I shielded Mickey from him... That was my mandate. Hell if I know why I didn’t just tell Uncle Jim. But I guess, back then, I was...ashamed, like it was because of me. So I had to hide the evidence.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I was better, my old man wouldn’t act like that.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “I was a dumb kid. When I think back to when my mother was alive, he wasn’t that way. But I was so young, I don’t remember much about her.”

  Working my palm up his spine, I cupped my hand around his neck, massaging the tense cords until he let out a pleased sigh. “What was she like?”

  “Like I said, I was five when she died. But she spoke with an accent, and...” He paused like he was sorting his memories. “I loved watching her cook. She’d set me up in the kitchen with wooden spoons and two or three pots to bang on. Never yelled no matter how much noise I made. And...she smelled like jasmine.”

  Max tipped his head back, and I took the invitation, lifting the shaggy black hair to sink my fingers into it, rubbing the base of his skull in slow, gentle circles. “How come your family never tried to find you?”

  “Michael said they didn’t mean to lose track of me, it just happened. They figured I’d blow off some steam, come home in a few weeks. But I was too stubborn. I didn’t set foot in Rhode Island until I was old enough to take the GED.”

  “After so much shit, you still got into college. From where I’m sitting, that’s incredible. Your whole life is a colossal in-your-face to your dad.”

  “Not so much. The first year after I left was...rocky. I drank a lot, flirted with various addictions. Fucked any woman who’d take me home and got into pointless fights. A guy nearly stabbed me in an alley before I realized dying in the gutter wasn’t how I wanted to go out.”

  “You turned it around, though. And your family’s proud. Why wouldn’t they be?” After Eli died, I got full-on hooked on prescription meds; I loved the numbness. But I didn’t pull out of the spiral on my own. My mother sent me to rehab the summer after I graduated.

  “I thought they agreed with him,” he said quietly. “That I’ve always been a worthless fuckup and always will be.”

  “Is that what he said at the hospital?” I held my breath, wondering if he’d tell me about the most traumatic night of his life.

  “I can still quote him, you know? I was sitting in the waiting room, covered in blood and powdered glass, while they worked on Mickey, afraid to hope, afraid to pray. My dad burst in and I thought, Thank God. It’ll be okay now. But he yanked me out of the chair and hit me so hard, I bit through my lip.”

  Reflexively my hand clenched in his hair, but I relaxed my fingers to avoid hurting him. On a deep, steadying breath, I resumed stroking, meant to soothe him, though it had the same effect on me. His dark hair felt like damp satin on my palm and he smelled vaguely of the shampoo we’d used earlier. There was nothing I could say, so I leaned closer, letting him know I was there whether he wanted to keep talking or not.

  A few seconds later, he went on. “He said, ‘I wish to God you’d never been born. What a worthless shit you turned out to be. This is why I’ve tried so hard to pound the asshole out of you, but you are fucking un-save-able.’ Then he shoved me up against the wall and threatened to crack my skull with a beer bottle.”

  “Holy shit. Your dad’s insane.”

  Max turned with haunted eyes, shifting so I had to move my hand or drop it entirely. I chose not to relinquish contact, sensing that he needed it. I left my hand on his jaw, the uneven scruff teasing my palm. Though I might be wrong, I didn’t think he’d ever told this story before. He wore a shell-shocked expression, as if the memories were more powerful than he’d expected.

  “The worst part is, I didn’t even leave then. I should have. But I went all sad puppy. ‘How can you...? You’re my dad, you’re supposed to love me.’” His mouth tightened, revealing how he felt about the pathetic nature of the question.

  “What did he say?” It couldn’t be good.

  “‘It’s not hard to work out, you dumb shit. If I don’t love you, it’s because you’re unlovable. Now get out of here. If I see you again, I will fucking end you.’”

  “You took off that night.” Now that I had the whole story, I understood why.

  The family could only cope with one emergency at a time. While everyone sat by Michael’s hospital bed, Max got farther away. And the longer the silence lasted, the more convinced he became that everyone hated him. Until Carol sent a wedding announcement email. Did I think somebody should’ve been on Max’s side, searching tirelessly to find him? Absolutely. But sometimes the world was a cold, horrible place, and people slipped through the cracks. That didn’t make it right.

  “Yeah. You’re really quiet. It’s kind of freaking me out, I don’t want this to change us. I’ve never laid it out completely before, and—”

  “I know, you say you don’t get along with your family and leave it at that. Thanks for trusting me. And no, it doesn’t make a difference. You’re my best friend...and I’m always on your side, Max. You can count on me for anything, you know that, right?”

  His dark eyes shone, brightening with tears. They didn’t fall; he backed away from that emotional precipice, though his smile remained soft and sweet. “I do, actually. That’s why I asked you to come.”

  “That means a lot to me.” I hugged him then, wrapping my arms around his waist.

  He settled me against his chest, resting his chin on my hair. It was beyond me how anyone could call him unlovable. He radiated warmth. Yeah, the packaging was a little rough, and he didn’t speak with an upscale accent, but Max hid only goodness at the heart of him. Some guys talked shit about their hookups, but I’d never heard Max comparing notes or denigrating a girl for sleeping with him.

  “You got the room for three nights, right?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I was wondering if you’d mind hanging out with Michael tomorrow. We’ll take off the day after.”

  “Not at all. I was hoping you’d get some family time.”

  “I didn’t think it was likely,” he admitted. “But Michael isn’t mad. Well, he is, but not about the accident. He just didn’t get why I vanished.”

  “Did you tell him everything?”

  He shook his head. “Kid has enough on his plate without hating Pop as much as I do.”

  “So what’re you guys doing tomorrow?” I figured I’d walk downtown and check out the shopping in Providence, maybe see a movie.

  “You aren’t coming?” He actually sounded disappointed.

  “It seems like I’d be in the way. I mean, I’m not family.”

  Max sat back and planted his hands on my shoulders. The suddenness of the motion jolted the swing, so the chains creaked. I tumbled backward, feet coming off the ground. I didn’t fight when he shifted, pulling me against his side. In slow, steady movements, he pushed off with his feet. Green shadows played across my bare legs, highlighting the pallor.

  “You are,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Family. Maybe that sounds strange. I’m not looking forward to graduation. I mean, shit, we’re already splitting up. Nadia’s living downstairs, and Kia might be moving in. It’ll suck when I can’t see you guys every day.”

  Mostly I didn’t think about the future. I had acquaintances in the business program who had five-year and ten-year life plans. But for me, the idea of what came after college—it was all a big blur. I couldn’t picture myself doing anything in particular. For a long time, I had been going through the motions, pretending I had goals, when I just missed Eli and didn’t take medication that would make it stop.

  You have to let me go, Eli said. You can’t be happy unless you do.

  But if I let you go, you’re gone.

  I’ve been gone for years, baby.

  “Where do you go when you do that?” Max asked unexpectedly.

  “Hu
h?”

  “Sometimes in the middle of a conversation, you check out. Not here, not listening, not with me anymore.”

  This confession would make him think I was crazy. “Talking to my dead boyfriend.”

  Max’s eyes widened and he glanced around his uncle’s backyard as if he expected some Medium scenario to play out. Ruefully I smiled and shook my head, tapping my temple. “In here. We knew each other so well—and for so long—that I hear his commentary on stuff and sometimes I answer. It’s weird, I know. I didn’t realize anyone could tell, though.”

  “Trust me, I know when you’re paying attention to me. And that’s not the strangest habit I’ve encountered. When I was in Scranton, I met a guy who had a bird living in his pocket.”

  I shuddered. “That sounds horrible for everyone involved.”

  “I know, right? Anyway, the question stands. Will you come out with Michael and me?” His hand found the nape of my neck and he returned the favor, massaging until I nearly melted onto his lap.

  Truthfully, he was turning me on somewhat, but I’d learned to ignore the little sparks between us. This friendship was too perfect to be complicated with sex, and making out with Max forced me to acknowledge that one night wouldn’t satisfy me. Plus, he went for pretty girls—Lauren, for example—and I’d heard all about his crush from Nadia. I couldn’t afford to become sexually obsessed with someone who thought of me as family.

  We’re better as friends.

  “Sure. It makes sense to let him show me around. Local knowledge and all.”

  “Hey, I grew up here, too. I can line up some attractions that will rock your world.”

  I couldn’t resist teasing him a bit, offering up a devilish smirk. “So that’s one of your life goals? Rocking my world?”

  “Better me than my brother,” he muttered.

  “Seriously, you don’t have to worry about that.” I paused just long enough for him to relax before I added, “Now. In two or three years...”

  “You are not right, Kaufman. I still think of him as a goony kid.”

  “Better not let him hear you say that. You’ll have another fight on your hands.” In a casual motion, I hopped down from the swing, needing to get his hand off me. For some reason, the tingles were stronger than usual.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “We’re finding something to eat, then you’re hanging out with your family. That’s why we’re here, after all.”

  Not to make me feel things. And damn, I wish it would stop.

  It can’t, Eli said. Sooner or later, you’ll love somebody else. Or else you might as well have died with me.

  I wish I had. Normally, the bitterness didn’t escape unless I’d been drinking. So I stuffed it back where it belonged, crouched in the back of my head like an angry tiger.

  Don’t say that, C. Where would this guy be without you?

  I had no answer for that, but as I walked through the backyard, the longish grass tickling my bare legs, it felt like falling.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  We didn’t get back to Providence until nearly midnight.

  I was heartily sick of this black dress—to the point that I might burn it instead of washing it when we got back. Tiredly I trudged up the stairs and keyed the code so we could finally sleep. Damn, it’s been a long day. But the payoff had been worthwhile; Max’s family had made it clear he wasn’t persona non grata to anyone but Charlie, and it was apparent to me that nobody gave two shits about his opinion.

  “I’m dying for a shower,” Max groaned.

  He dumped the bag containing his blazer and vest on the bed, and I sighed, hanging up his crumpled clothing. Not because I expected him to wear it again, but disorder bothered me. Various shrinks had communicated that I exerted this control over my environment because I hated feeling helpless. I didn’t think it required an advanced degree to work that out.

  “You can have the bathroom first.”

  Shooting me a grateful look, he went in and shut the door behind him. I didn’t want to put on my relatively clean pj’s while I was all sticky, though, so I wandered into the other room to watch TV. It occurred to me then that I hadn’t checked messages all day. Normally I didn’t make a move without my phone in hand. Braced for the worst, I turned my cell on. As expected, I had, like, five texts from my mother. She was more than Overly Attached Mom; I’d given her reasons to worry about my mental state over the years, and she was protective even before I’d lost it. For peace of mind, she preferred regular check-ins, and I hadn’t been doing that since we left Michigan.

  Where are you?

  I haven’t heard from you at all today.

  What are you doing?

  Are you using again? My mother prided herself on digging up the right terminology.

  If you don’t call me tonight, I’ll have to tell your father.

  Sighing, I glanced at the time. Technically, it was still tonight for a few more minutes. If I knew her, she was reading in bed, staring at her phone, after letting my dad go to sleep undisturbed. In my experience, Ma worried enough for the both of them.

  I called her. “Hey, it’s me.”

  “What in the world are you doing that you can’t make time to call your mother?”

  “My friend’s grandfather died. I’m wearing a black dress and everything. We went to the funeral today. It wouldn’t be respectful to text in the middle of the service, Ma.”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday. That wouldn’t last until almost midnight.”

  “We spent time with the family afterward. There was a potluck. Do you want me to text you a picture of me in this dress?” It wasn’t like I didn’t appreciate her concern, but sometimes it could be tedious. “I can also send you a link to the obituary. Scan a copy of the—”

  “Stop teasing me. I was worried. You shouldn’t be this hard to reach when classes aren’t even in session.”

  “I know. Sorry about that. There’s just been a lot going on this week. Things will settle down soon and I’ll get back to my usual schedule.”

  “Okay. Be careful. We love you.”

  That got me off the hook with my parents, but before I could decide what to watch, Max stepped out of the bathroom, steam billowing behind him. The room immediately heated up, despite the air-conditioning, because he only had a towel wrapped around his waist. He seemed fine wandering around, giving me peekaboo glimpses as he prowled the bedroom. I counted his tattoos surreptitiously, coming up with four, unless the towel hid some body art. The black ink I’d noticed curving around his rib cage proved to be a black spiral symbol that looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

  “Checking out the art?” Max asked.

  Startled, I jerked my head up. “Yeah. What is that?”

  He came toward me, and I wished he would put on boxers and sweats, but if I said anything, he’d tease the shit out of me. My heart thumped away as he got closer, close enough for me to smell the clean scent of skin, freshly washed with castile soap. Max perched beside me on the love seat, apparently unconcerned by how his towel gapped at the thigh. A drop of water trailed down his chest and I watched it until it dripped onto the white terry cloth over his lap.

  “It’s a variation on the symbol for Leo.”

  “The zodiac sign? But your birthday’s in November.”

  “My mom was born on August 1. This was the first tattoo I ever got.” He touched the ink over his rib cage; it was all I could do not to do the same. “It’s supposed to stand for courage and to remind me of her.”

  “That’s sweet. What about the others?”

  “This is just a cuff... I liked the pattern.” Max flexed his arm, and the braid expanded in reaction. Then he shifted, presenting his back, along with the only colorful ink on his body. “This is obviously a Chinese dragon. It’s supposed to represent power and good fortune to the worthy, so I guess you could say it’s aspirational. The last is an old symbol for strength.” He indicated a black symbol on his arm that resembled a tree, only more styliz
ed.

  “I like the dragon especially. The red-and-black is gorgeous.” On your skin, I added silently. “You’ve never shown them to me before.”

  He leveled a long look on me, one that confused me as much as it tempted me to touch. “Yeah, well. I usually save the unveiling for a special occasion.”

  “Huh?”

  “The first time I sleep with someone. Then she traces all my ink and I lay back, pretending she’s the only one who ever thought to do it.”

  “That sounds depressing.”

  “It is, a little. I have personal reasons for getting them, but they’re not a fetish or a separate erogenous zone.”

  I was torn between the urge to learn more about what drove Max nuts in bed and the conviction that was a terrible idea. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to leave yet. He was close enough that I felt the heat of his thigh against mine.

  My breath quickened. “Are you planning to tell me what gets you hot? While you’re nearly naked, I might add. Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “True. I might embarrass myself. You’d never let me live it down.”

  Smiling, I stood up. “I’ll shower, you can put pants on. Then, if you still want to talk about your hot zones—”

  “We’ll put a pin in it. But I was wondering...”

  “What?”

  “Do you have any ink?”

  “Just one.” I pulled my bodice down just enough to show him the small red heart—tattooed over my actual blood-pumping one—with Eli written inside it. Since I didn’t wear low-cut tops as a rule, very few people had seen it.

  Max froze, then he lifted his chin, his dark gaze locking on my face. His eyes blazed with something I couldn’t even identify, fiercer than desire, stronger than longing. Flutters quivered to life in my stomach, but I couldn’t possibly be reading this right.

  His lips parted, and it took three tries before he could speak. He cleared this throat, finally getting the words out. “You should shower.”

  Nodding, I practically ran to the bathroom, crazily aware of my pulse pounding in my throat, my ears, my wrists, and my pussy throbbed, too, echoing the excitement. Dear God. I want to fuck Max. If he was anyone else in the world, I would, if he was interested. But after Eli, I couldn’t risk losing my best friend. Not again. Not when it had taken five years for me to get here...and stop feeling so alone.