by Ann Aguirre
I flinched a little at hearing Max say his name so unexpectedly. “I’m not sure that’s possible. I mean, first love... It’ll never be that way again. But maybe it’ll be...I dunno, completely different but just as good.”
“You don’t sound hopeful.”
“Meh.” I shrugged, leading the way upstairs. “I’m just getting a head start on becoming a crazy cat lady.”
When we got in, Angus and Kia weren’t home; with both of them trying to get into med school, they stayed long hours in the science annex, even more in the medical library studying for tests on subjects that would probably make me choke on my own bile. Noise from downstairs drew me out on the balcony, where I spotted Nadia and her boyfriend cooking out on the patio. The kid was playing with toy cars, crashing them together on the cement. She glanced up and waved, beckoning me down, but I shook my head and wandered back inside.
“I have an awesome idea,” Max told me.
“Does it involve two rubber gloves, three feet of medical tubing and a bucket of fresh, warm bacon grease?”
Both his brows shot up, and for, like, thirty seconds, he seemed as if he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or run. “You’re a freak, you know that, right?”
“Hey, don’t judge unless you’ve rolled around in my savory oils.”
“Okay, we’re backing this bus up. Idea, remember?” He was on the other side of the breakfast bar, rummaging in the fridge.
“Lay it on me.” Perching on a stool, I produced a semi-serious expression and propped my chin in my palm.
“I know tons of people, that’s kind of my superpower. By the end of this semester, I’m finding you the perfect person.”
The sheer awfulness of it took, like, a minute to sink in. I couldn’t let on, not with him looking so happy, so excited about the prospect of fixing me up. For a few confused, horrible seconds, I thought for sure he knew about my weird feelings while we’d traveled together and that this was his way of making it 100 percent clear we’d never be anything but bros, no matter how many times we saw each other half-naked, talked in bed or snuggled up like puppies. Really, this was karma, considering how I’d made Amy feel. It’s not like you’re in love with him anyway. And this didn’t come as a complete surprise. If Max was interested, he treated a girl much differently than he did Nadia and me. He called us both by our last names, unlike Lauren.
“Pass,” I managed.
“Don’t you trust me?” Hurt deepened his voice.
“It’s not about that. I can find my own dates, dude.”
“But...I want to help.”
My jaw clenched around caustic words I wouldn’t be able to unsay if they escaped. “Thanks anyway.”
He seemed like he might argue, but he took another look at me and apparently thought better of it. “You hungry?”
“Nah. I need a shower, then I have some work to do.”
With that, I hopped off the stool and strolled to my room as if my throat weren’t tightening with every step. Somehow I closed the door quietly behind me and retreated farther, bathroom, another door. The ache swelled to horrendous proportions as if a tentacle-beast was fighting its way out of my neck. Operating on automatic, I stripped and turned on the water, climbed into the tub and closed the tropical fish shower curtain behind me. When the warm spray hit me, I broke. Dropping into a crouch, I wrapped my arms around my knees and cried.
I didn’t entirely know why this hurt so much, just scrambled feelings fighting for supremacy: shame, anguish, embarrassment. Does he feel sorry for me? I could stand anything but that. I’d gone through a lot of shit, but through it all, I kept my chin up. I kept pushing forward even when I didn’t want to.
Sure, Max. Find me somebody to love, someone who loves me back.
I cried harder.
My eyes were red as fire and the water was like ice when I finally crawled out and wrapped up in a towel. Part of me wanted to sit on the toilet and cry more, but if I’d survived losing Eli, then this was just another bump in the road. Some people were born under a golden star; obviously I wasn’t one of them, but it didn’t mean I’d roll over and give up.
He didn’t mean to hurt you, Eli said.
The WTF of it, my dead boyfriend was right. But it didn’t make me feel all better. I got dressed, toweled off my hair and then curled up on my bed with my tablet. I hadn’t lied when I’d said I had assigned reading. I worked through half of it before Kia came in.
“Studying hard?” she asked, tossing her backpack toward the bed.
“Trying to. Really, I just want to go to sleep.”
“It’s nine-thirty.”
There would be questions soon if I didn’t chuck a red herring at her. “It’s just been one of those days. My ex ambushed me and insisted that we talk.”
“Oh, shit. Duncan’s tried to make me listen, too. I run if I see him coming.”
“Maybe that’s a better idea.”
“It’s all I have time for. I’m done until I get into med school.”
“What do you want to specialize in?”
“Trauma surgery.”
“Wow. That’s unexpected.”
She cocked a teasing brow at me. “What, because I’m a woman I have to deliver babies?”
“If it’s personal, you don’t have to tell me. But I’m just wondering about your choice.” I could’ve made a joke, but I wanted to get to know her better.
“My older brother was shot when I was a kid. He died on the operating table. I’ve always wondered if a better doctor could’ve saved him. Maybe not, you know? They say they did everything possible, but—”
“You wonder. It’s normal.”
“So I want to save people. That’s all. That’s why.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
She shrugged, setting books on her bed, presumably the ones she needed to read tonight. “You’re a good listener.”
“I’m putting that on my résumé.” On that note, I rolled over and got under the covers.
“I can read in the living room if the light will bother you.”
Lazily I waved the common cold virus at her, then hugged it to my chest. “You’re fine. I can sleep through pretty much anything.”
Then I pretended to drift off, though I was just staring at the wall. Angus came to the doorway, whispered to Kia, then she shooed him out. Since I knew him so well, it didn’t surprise me when Max showed up a little later.
“Would you two find something to do?” Kia murmured. “Courtney’s asleep.”
“But...she didn’t have dinner.”
“She’s grown. She’ll eat when she’s hungry. Go play a game.”
“’Night, then.” Max sounded confused, upset even, as he walked off.
I told myself it was for the best, but the ache in my chest kept me awake until night faded from the sky.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
For the next week, I eluded Max without half trying.
His work schedule meant that as long as I knew when he had class, I could time my returns and departures. It worked until the following Saturday. Max worked during the day and if he ran true to form, he’d be at a party or out with some girl until late, so I figured it was safe to stay home and watch TV. My luck ran out at 6:45 p.m. when he unlocked the front door and came in. The odor of burnt oil wafted from him, along with the pungent smell of sweat. He looked tired, eyes shadowed, and he hadn’t shaven in a few days. I’d always liked seeing him in work clothes, matching navy pants and shirt with a stitched-on name patch. If I was his girlfriend, I’d totally steal one of those shirts. It would be dead cute with the right tank top or cami underneath.
“Hey, stranger.” The only way to play this was to bluff it out. “Where’ve you been hiding all week? Are you avoiding me?”
He swiped a hand across his face, leaving a dirty streak; his fingers and nails were caked with grease and grime. “I was gonna ask you that.”
“Huh. It probably just seems like we don’t see as much of each other after being jo
ined at the hip on the road trip.” I shifted, patting the couch. “Take a shower and I’ll throw something together for dinner. Unless you have plans?”
There, that should do it.
“No, I don’t feel like going out.”
“Awesome, we’ll have a quiet night.”
I slid off the sofa and followed him as far as the kitchen, where I rummaged in the fridge and cupboards. My heart pounded like crazy as he lingered, and when he went into the bathroom, I sighed, going limp against the countertop in relief. Then I rallied enough to set out some penne pasta. It wouldn’t be fancy, but it wouldn’t take forever, either. While the water boiled, I chopped up some lettuce, which was all we had for a salad, and browned the ground beef.
Need to get Angus to take me shopping.
Max took the longest shower ever so the pasta was done and I was finishing the sauce when he came back. He sniffed, seeming a little more cheerful. “Damn. I didn’t realize I was so hungry until right now. I didn’t get lunch.”
“Busy?”
“Yeah. We had some unexpected body work and the guy threw a shit fit when Gus told him it would be at least four days on the repair, and no, we don’t have loaner cars.”
“Sounds like a crappy day.”
He leaned against me as I served the food. “It’s better now.”
The words created a twinge in my heart, but mostly I was glad to make his life better, especially when I’d all but asked him to stay here and keep busting his ass. “Good. Should we eat on the couch or at the table?”
“Couch. I could use some mindless entertainment.”
“Co-op after we eat?”
“Sounds great.”
After dinner, he stacked the plates in the sink while I put away the leftovers. Angus and Kia would probably have some when they got in later. Max put in his favorite shooter and handed me the game controller. There was something soothing about mindless violence, which a psychiatrist would probably find worrisome. We played for a couple of hours, long enough to soothe any lingering fears he might have about whether we were good.
I stood up, stretching. “That’s it for me. The screen’s starting to get blurry.”
Max sighed with mock-disappointment. “You just aren’t a hard-core gamer.”
“Nope. I can live with the shame.”
“Want to watch a movie instead?”
Since I’d planned to do that in my room, it was hard to refuse. “Like what?”
“You pick.”
“Then how about Gravity?”
“I hope you have chocolate stashed somewhere. It’ll probably be depressing.” But he turned on Angus’s old laptop, which we used to watch movies online, and checked the connection to the TV.
“That’s so sexist that I don’t even know where to start.”
He glanced at me, eyes wide. “But...the chocolate’s for me.”
“Fine, you win this round.” I settled back, pulling an afghan that Nadia’s mom had made—and she’d let us keep when she moved out—over my knees. Indian summer was still kicking during the day, but the door to the balcony was open to let in the breeze, and it was a little chilly.
Max rented the movie on my account and started it up. He switched off the living room lights, probably to increase the cinematic quality of the experience. Once the film began, I was riveted, not thinking about Max. I didn’t notice him until he leaned on me, head on my arm. In the old days I’d have put an arm around him and let him use me as a pillow. I didn’t this time, though I couldn’t say why. Eventually he took the hint and sat up. I pretended to be oblivious, absorbed in Sandra Bullock’s life-or-death struggle. Once the movie came to its gripping conclusion, I turned on the lights.
And said the last thing in the world I wanted to. “So I’ve been thinking about your offer.”
“Huh?” Max blinked against the sudden shift in illumination, his pupils contracting against the light.
“To set me up. You know me better than anyone, so you should be good at it.”
“Okay. Would you rather date a guy or a girl?”
“I’m open.”
“Any deal breakers?”
I considered for a minute, acting like this didn’t have disaster written all over it. “Consistently poor hygiene. Vicious streak. Extremely conservative outlook.”
“Is that it? You don’t want to describe your type or anything?”
“People always say this, but I swear it’s true—I don’t really have one. Physical traits are ephemeral anyway, while the core of the person won’t change over the years.”
“Some people do,” he pointed out. “For better or worse.”
“What is this, a proposal?”
“Funny.”
“I just mean you can’t fall in love with someone’s butt.”
He grinned. “Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure I have.”
“That’s lust, Max.”
“And you’re opposed to it?”
How did I get into this conversation again? But it would seem suspicious if I suddenly waved my hands and retreated. We used to debate shit like this all the time. But that was before, before Providence, before I’d thought about getting naked with Max, wondered what it would be like to take it further than kissing.
“There’s nothing wrong with a sexual relationship as long as both parties know that going in. Otherwise someone ends up heartbroken. That’s kind of what I did to Amy, actually.”
“You won’t get me to agree that anything you did could be worth how she went after you. That shit was downright sociopathic.”
“Your loyalty is awesome,” I said, smiling. “So who do you have in mind for me?”
He tipped his head back against the couch, thoughtful. “It might be easier for me to set you up with guys. Any way you clock it, I’d be awkward as fuck trying to find out if a girl’s bi, and I’m not trolling the lesbian activist group, even for you.”
I laughed outright, the first true humor I’d felt regarding this train wreck. “That’s fine. I told you before, I can find my own dates. But if you think you know somebody who’d be a good fit, I’m willing to meet him. Or her. Though from what you just said, that’s unlikely.”
“I’ll get back to you. There are a couple of guys I have class with—”
“Surprise me.”
“Do you want me to take a ninja pic before I talk to them about you?”
“No need, unless you plan to let them screen me the same way?”
“Fuck, no.”
I could imagine the way this conversation would play out. Are you interested in meeting my roommate?
Why, is she hot?
She’s got an incredible personality, she’s so cool and funny—
No thanks, bro.
But that would probably be the least painful outcome. Better for Max to figure out what a bad idea this was on his own, then I wouldn’t have to tell him how much it bothered me. A smidgen of it stemmed from the possibility that he felt sorry for me, but the vast majority came from wounded pride. I’d thought there were...mutual sparks, and that we’d chosen not to act on them. But only I was struck by lightning while Max remained completely grounded.
Depressing.
“Let me know how it goes,” I said, hopping up.
“You’re going to bed already?”
“It’s past eleven. That’s not early. Something wrong? Is your family okay? Have you talked to them since we got back?”
“Not really, and yeah. I call Michael a couple of times a week. He’s training for some kind of marathon.”
I grinned. “I hate to break it to you, but he got my email at the park. I’ve heard from him, like, six times.”
“What the hell, seriously?” It was impossible to tell if he was truly agitated.
“Yep. He texts me, too.” This was way more fun than talking about a potential blind date.
“Kaufman.”
“What?”
“Don’t string him along. He’s just a kid.”
I gaped at Max. “You honestly think I’m hitting on your brother? Give me some credit for not being gross and inappropriate.”
“I just... It’s weird, that’s all.”
That didn’t make me feel any better. “For him to be friends with me? You are.”
“Yeah, but...”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“I’m definitely going to my room, where I’ll probably text Michael until I fall asleep. Don’t interrupt.” I stomped down the hall and shut the door behind me.
Angrily I changed into pajamas. What the hell is wrong with him? Half of the notes and messages his brother sent were about Max. I didn’t break his confidence, though, or repeat anything about how bad it was the first year after he’d left home. Once Michael had figured out I wouldn’t be spilling top secret info, he’d started asking about college, the kind of questions a homeschooled kid would have. To me, it seemed normal, nothing strange or shady.
I hated fighting with Max, though. With tension between us, I couldn’t focus.
Maybe he felt the same way because he ignored my demand to be left alone, tapping on the door shortly after midnight. “You asleep?”
I sighed and got up, opening the door with an impatience that was mostly feigned. “What is it, Max?”
Even when he stepped on my feelings, it was hard to stay mad. He dug his toes into the carpet, leaning on the door frame. “I just want to say I’m sorry.”
“About what?” Immature, sure, but I wondered if he even knew what bothered me about that whole Michael exchange.
“What happened before. The truth is, I was just... God, this is stupid.”
“Huh?” Already losing interest, I stepped back, ready to shut the door on any more of this crap tonight, but he grabbed my arm.
“Kia will probably be home soon, and she’ll kick me out before we’re done talking.”
Sighing, I followed him down the hall. His bedroom was smaller, barely room for a full bed and chest of drawers. He’d mounted his TV on the wall and put the game console on top of the chest. In terms of decor, there was nothing, no pictures on the walls and very few books. On second inspection, his space seemed sparse and nomadic, as if he could pack his shit and be gone in a couple of hours. The idea tightened my throat.
