The Shape of My Heart

by Ann Aguirre

  Around ten that night, he propped himself against the door frame in my room and watched me trying to decide what to bring with me. I had some clothes at home, but most of what I’d left behind had been purchased by my mother...and consequently, my closet was full of dresses I wouldn’t wear even if I lost a bet—Young Miss stuff mostly, with pleats and ruffles.

  “All set?” he asked.

  I narrowed my eyes, cocking my head. “Huh. You look a little like my boyfriend. He disappeared like, three, weeks ago. But he wasn’t so thin and hollow-eyed.”

  “Did you report him missing?” Max ambled into my room, flopping onto my bed with a quiet groan.

  “Thought about it. But his occasional texts kept me from fearing the worst.”

  “You’re heartless,” he complained. “Do you have any idea what I’ve suffered for you?”

  “Not unless you tell me.”

  As it turned out, he’d been putting in overtime, taking shifts for the guys who would be covering his week off. So, not working on your car. Dumbass. It never occurred to me that he’d have to work extra to make up for going home with me. I put down my backpack and went over to the bed; Max shifted over so I could sit beside him, and he sighed in pleasure when I brushed the hair away from his eyes.

  “That feels good.”

  “I’m sorry, I had no idea it would be such a huge deal. I’ve never had a job.” I felt like such a princess saying that.

  He smiled wearily. “It’s okay, it was worth it. I’ve repaid all the guys now, and I’m free to take off in the morning.”

  “You look like you’ve done nothing but work and study for weeks.”

  “Feels like it. Come here.” Max drew me into his arms and I could actually feel the difference in him.

  He’d always been lean, but now his ribs dug into my side and his shoulder bone poked me when I rested my head. I sat up, staring at him with what had to be a very worried look. “You know I want to make you, like, a gallon of mashed potatoes, right?”

  “The kitchen’s too far,” he mumbled. “And your mom will fatten me up, I’m sure.”

  “If you get sick, I’ll be really pissed.” Seeing him like this was...scary. It was hard not to make the mental leap to how Eli had looked the last few weeks of his life. He hadn’t started that way, either. I remembered when he was healthy and in remission.

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry, Courtney.”

  “Have you seen yourself lately?”

  He flashed me a tired smile. “Pretty hot, huh? I don’t know how you’re holding back.”

  Since he seemed disinclined to take my concern seriously, I changed the subject. “Are you all packed?”

  Max nodded. “Make sure you dress warm tomorrow. It’s only three hours to Chicago, but it’ll feel longer if you’re freezing.”

  “Maybe I should get a leather biker jacket. Think I could pull it off? Black leather, silver studs...?” I was mostly teasing, but he surveyed me through a tangle of thick lashes, as if seriously considering the possibility.

  Then he said in a low, rough voice, “Definitely. Get the boots, too.”

  I went breathless. “Okay.”

  With some effort, he got himself to his feet. “Come on. I’m so fucking tired that I could pass out in your bed, and I suspect Kia wouldn’t be amused.”

  “She’s already gone home for the holidays,” I said. “But your bed is bigger.”

  “True.” When Max draped his arm around my shoulders, it felt more like he needed physical support than a gesture of affection.

  “You sure you’re okay to ride tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be fine. Just let me sleep for ten hours and feed me something good in the morning.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  He fell face-first on the bed and I finished packing. The apartment was quiet at this hour; Angus must have been at Del’s place, and nobody else seemed to be stirring, either. Usually on a Friday night, I heard music in the complex, doors slamming, cars pulling up and roaring away. But it appeared that a bunch of folks had rolled out for the holidays already. I tiptoed back to Max’s room and climbed in beside him. Since I was pretty tired, too, I passed out right away.

  * * *

  In the morning I made the huge breakfast Max wanted with pancakes from a box mix and scrambled eggs. When he came out of the shower, he looked better. Though he was still thin, he’d lost some of the heroin chic he was rocking last night. One night couldn’t erase dark circles like those, unfortunately, but he could rest up at my parents’ place. Since I was thirteen, we’d lived in a condo within a few blocks of Lakeshore Drive, three bedrooms, which allowed my mom to keep my room as a shrine and still have a spare for guests.

  He ate with flattering gusto, considering half the pancakes were burned on one side; it took me half the batter to get the skillet temperature right. I watched him for, like, five minutes, letting my own food get cold.

  Max glanced up with a question in his eyes. “You’re not hungry?”

  “No, I am. Sorry.”

  I can’t believe you’re mine.

  Hurriedly I finished up, then I got my stuff so he could pack our bags into the top box. As instructed, I layered up with a hat, gloves and scarf, and then we took off on our second road trip. For obvious reasons, I was more nervous. Last time, I was just doing a friend a favor. Meeting my parents, well, it was a huge deal; there hadn’t been anyone significant since Eli died.

  An hour and a half into the trip, Max called, “Do you want to take a break?”

  I shouted no. We rode straight through, mostly because I was eager to get there. Sitting in a rest-stop food court sipping coffee would warm me up, but it would also add to my agitation. Probably I was on edge because I’d basically never done this. Eli didn’t require an introduction; we’d gone to nursery school together, and our parents were still close.

  Once we hit the city, I gave directions until my voice was hoarse. Just past one in the afternoon, he pulled up in front of the building. Max stared up at the imposing glass and steel shining in the wan winter sunshine. People at school didn’t know that much about my background since I tried not to come across as a privileged asshole. Even now, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that my dad owned the building—and that it wasn’t the only one. He’d started off as a stockbroker, but he was so good at gauging the market, he’d started investing his own money, and by forty, he’d made his first million.

  “Holy shit,” he said quietly.

  Feeling like an asshole, I took a breath. It’ll be fine. “The garage entrance is over there.”

  I’d definitely led him to believe my folks were upper-middle-class, no big deal. Some money, normal affluence, and he was already self-conscious about that divide. God only knew how he’d react to this.

  “Okay, just tell me where to park.”

  I guided him to one of the VIP spaces designated for my family’s use. That earned me a sharp look, but he didn’t say anything. Honestly I had no idea how to act because it wasn’t like I hid this from him on purpose. I didn’t consider my dad’s money mine; I had my own dreams. There was no way I’d conform to parental expectations to earn an inheritance. And both my mom and dad knew that; I’d made it completely clear when I left rehab that I was done letting them write the checks that dictated my behavior. They were only paying for college because I hadn’t cared enough to argue when they pushed me toward a business degree. Now that I was alive again, I suspected it might even come in handy when I started my indie label, which was why I hadn’t changed my major.

  “We’re going to the penthouse, aren’t we?” Max said, as I swiped my card in the elevator, then pressed the PH button.

  I swallowed. “Yeah.”

  “You don’t think you should’ve prepped me a little better?” His voice was tight, mouth flat and pale. When he glanced down at his jeans and work boots, I registered his uncertainty.

  But we’re both in jeans and hoodies. I’d never matched the Kaufman ideal of elegance,
either. So I didn’t see what difference it made. Max might put on a Boss suit and shiny shoes, but it wouldn’t change anything about him. More to the point, I didn’t want him to pretend to be somebody he wasn’t, not even for my parents. But maybe he didn’t get that.

  “Would it have helped?”

  He didn’t answer as the floors ticked away, eventually opening into the foyer. I registered his shock. Yeah, the condo takes up the whole top of the building. The place was huge with phenomenal views, three bedrooms, three baths and a study. At this point my dad didn’t do anything except own property and invest money. I didn’t remember my mom ever working. When I lived at home, we’d had a daily housekeeper because we all agreed it would be intrusive to have someone stay in the condo with us, though there was a small maid’s room near the laundry.

  “We’re here,” I called.

  My mother rushed out to greet us in a blue-and-white print dress with too many ruffles down the front. She had a belly, which she blamed me for, and the style made her look even more like a pigeon, emphasizing her round middle, thin legs and small feet. In honor of meeting my boyfriend, she’d broken out the diamonds, too, something my dad must’ve bought recently since I hadn’t seen the set before. Her steps faltered when she spotted Max, and her smile froze into a ghastly, polite rictus. A flickered gaze up and down told me how profoundly disappointed she was in what I’d dragged home.

  It was too much to hope Max didn’t notice it. But he stepped forward to extend a hand anyway, and she shook it while I performed the introductions. “Ma, this is Max Cooper, my boyfriend. Max, my mother.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said.

  “You don’t look like a Cooper.”

  I cut her a horrified look, but before I could respond, he answered evenly, “Maybe not. My mom was from Paraguay.”

  “Was?”

  His voice was level. “She died when I was five.”

  That distracted her from the inquisition, at least. “I’m sorry. But look at the two of you, your faces are so red. And Courtney, your hands are freezing. Did you fly in on a broomstick?”

  I smirked. “I got the nose from you, Ma.”

  “And I had mine fixed years ago.” It was true, she had a short, straight nose now that made her face...forgettable.

  Max spoke up, slightly testy, because he hated it when anyone talked shit about the way I looked. Apparently, even my mother. “We came on my bike, actually.”

  Her brows shot up. “As in...motorcycle?”

  Oh, man. Strike one. But I didn’t want him to lie to make a better impression, so I nodded. “You wouldn’t believe how much fun it is to ride.”

  “I’m sure,” she said tightly. “But did you know the nurses in the emergency room call them widow makers?”

  “I’m careful.”

  “And I always wear a helmet,” I assured her.

  Max shrugged out of his leather jacket, revealing his Mount Albion hoodie with the faded lettering. He’d likely had the thing since freshman year, but it suited him. He was so damn handsome that when he dressed up, as he had for his granddad’s funeral, it made me feel like hyperventilating. She took our coats and hung them up in the closet, fingering the leather of his jacket with faint distaste, like there was grease on it. I immediately wished I’d already bought the coat I joked about last night, for solidarity if nothing else. But I couldn’t give up so easily. Max was great, and if she gave him a chance, she’d see that.

  Her pause was telling. “You’re old enough to make your own decisions.” The look told me that I was making bad ones. “Come and sit down, both of you. Are you hungry?”

  She rambled on about the snacks the housekeeper had prepared, which was a welcome break. I was too tense to want lunch, though. So I perched on the pristine white leather couch, marveling that she’d redecorated yet again. This time, the room was all silver and white, beautiful but cold, an impression reinforced by the wall of windows behind us. The usual Hanukkah decorations were out as well, including the menorah. Max seemed nervous, not leaning back fully, and sitting with his hands tightly laced, a full foot away.

  I told myself, It’ll get better. She had to know I wasn’t bringing home a hot young banker fresh from J-Date. Ma offered, like, four kinds of drinks before accepting that neither of us wanted anything. Afterward, I realized I should’ve asked for tea, just to distract her.

  Because once she sat down with a glass of lemonade in hand, she got right back to being nosy. “So it’s just you and your father? What does he do?” The question was so obviously intended to make him feel inadequate, that I almost got up right then.

  “Ma,” I warned.

  Max wasn’t playing her game, though. He smiled sweetly and said, “Drink and collect disability checks, mostly.”

  She choked on her drink, staring with wide, watering eyes. That wasn’t the kind of thing anyone she knew would freely admit. Instead it’d be talked about in whispers with lots of headshaking, but hell, why should Max feel bad about it? He wasn’t his father.

  He went on. “But I have other relatives. My little brother’s pretty great. So are my Uncle Lou, Aunt Carol and Uncle Jim. They’re all fine, upstanding members of society, so I have a fair shot of not ending up in the gutter.”

  It seemed like he’d won that round, but I hated that this week was likely to be so uncomfortable and adversarial. My mother wore a faint frown, as if she didn’t really know what to do with him since he refused to tolerate her passive-aggressive faux politeness. Beside me, Max stirred, his white knuckles revealing how crappy he felt. While he might not play her game, it didn’t mean he was feeling good.

  “Where’s Dad?” I cut in.

  “He’s running some errands, signing legal documents.” She managed a smile. “You know, the usual. He just bought a building on the west side and there are details... Courtney, can I talk to you for a moment?”

  There was no way I could refuse without it getting ugly, so I murmured, “Excuse me,” to Max, then followed her down the hall to our rooms on the pretext of dropping off our bags.

  She didn’t wait even thirty seconds before saying, “I cannot believe this, it’ll break your father’s heart.”

  For a minute, I couldn’t even speak for the shock. “What—”

  “You told him you have money, didn’t you?”

  Okay, my mother’s officially lost her mind. “Of course not.”

  She thought she was protecting me, but each work dug into my heart like a sharp and tiny knife. “You have to be careful. Truly handsome men don’t chase...” she trailed off, not wanting to say that I was ugly “...girls like you without incentive, and you must’ve dangled a million reasons. As if that’s not bad enough...take a good look at him, Courtney. I saw twenty just like him when I was visiting you in rehab. I know a junkie when I see one.”

  I was just about to explain—to say that was the face of a guy who’d half killed himself to meet his girlfriend’s parents—but Max spoke first. “I can tell I’ve failed to pass Go and will not be collecting two hundred dollars. Give me my stuff, I’m heading out now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Max, wait.”

  But he wasn’t listening to me. When I didn’t immediately hand over the backpack, he brushed past me without a word and strode toward the foyer. I chased after him while my mother stood frozen in shock. After grabbing his jacket from the hall closet, he called the elevator without looking at me, and I had the awful feeling he blamed me for how this had gone down. As the doors opened, I tried to step on with him but he shook his head.

  “You came to see your parents. So stay here and do that.”

  “I wanted you to meet them.”

  “But you didn’t tell me the whole story, did you? Wonder why not.” Max didn’t relent, so I tried to push closer and he actually walked me back, just before the doors shut in my face.

  It felt like someone was squeezing my heart with a pair of pliers. The fact that something I did made Max feel this wa
y? Unbearable. If I’d known it would turn out this way, I never would have brought him home. And in hindsight, I definitely should’ve told him the truth about my family’s status, but...it was pretty hard to reveal out of nowhere. How would that conversation even go? By the way, Max, my parents have a lot of money. So be prepared for them to act like assholes and live in a penthouse. Maybe if I’d said that, though, this wouldn’t have happened.

  My mom’s heels clicked as she came toward me. “At least he isn’t stupid. That’s to his credit. But I can’t believe—”

  “You acted that way to a guest I brought home,” I cut in furiously. “He wasn’t here because he’s hoping to get something from me. Max doesn’t even like me to pay for dinner when we go out. And he’s definitely not on drugs, Ma. That was me, remember? Because I couldn’t cope. I was weak and losing Eli was just too much.”

  The elevator dinged, and I had some hope it was Max coming back up, regretting his quick exit, but the door opened to reveal my father instead. As usual, he was dressed in expensive slacks and a tailored button-up shirt. He’d lost even more hair from the last time I saw him, which he covered with a yarmulke at all times. Privately, I thought he did it out of vanity more than religious conviction, as my mother had more real faith than my dad and me put together. That was part of the reason why she cared so much about me marrying a nice Jewish boy, though some of that stemmed from snobbery.

  Ma glanced between us, visibly troubled. “Do you think I can ever forget that? I—”

  “Drove out the most important person in my life. You judged him in one look.” My knees went shaky as fury flooded me. “I’ve never been so ashamed to be part of this family.”

  “What are you saying?” Dad demanded, stepping out of the elevator to stare at us. “Apologize to your mother right now.”

  “I won’t. She gave permission for me to bring Max home, and then she treated him like garbage, made it crystal clear he wasn’t welcome.”