by Abby Sher
I nodded because I didn’t trust my voice not to croak. It was the first time I’d actually looked at him directly all week. I didn’t mean to. But when I did, I saw his eyes were still chocolatey and warm.
“One—go enjoy this awesome night,” he said. “And two, give me a hug like you mean it.” I did as I was told. His arms were shaking and so were mine. Mom told me again how proud she was of me and Emma gave me a hip bump. Then they each took one of Dad’s arms looped in theirs and shuffled out.
I couldn’t find Oscar anywhere. Everyone was deciding who was going in which car and what flavor chips to pick up at the store. Julian motioned for me to come over and meet his friends, but at the same moment Marty spun me around and held my face in her hands.
“You. Were. Astounding,” she said. She looked at me so deeply I thought I’d fall into her eye sockets. There was so much more in her brain than I’d ever given her credit for.
“You were,” I said softly.
“We both were,” she corrected.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Julian said, bringing his posse with him. “I just wanted to introduce you to some people who are big fans of your work, ladies.” There was Astrid, Paul, Katinka, and Mateo with the sideburns. They were all really affected by the show and talked about how much they missed Julian. Mateo put his hand on the small of Julian’s back and I shuddered a little for him.
“We were thinking of getting some food all together. Unless you really want to go to the party.” Julian looked at me.
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean no. Or I mean, whatever is fine.” I didn’t know how to telepathically relay the message that I needed help locating Oscar. Marty had already disappeared too.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” said Paul, “but I’m gonna eat my own foot soon. What’s the name of that diner you mentioned?”
“The Unicorn,” said Julian.
My breath caught. I wasn’t ready to go in there.
“Hooray!” said Astrid. “I love unicorns!”
There was a loud thud as one of the hanging canvases fell to the stage floor. “Sorry about that,” said Oscar, leaning off the catwalk near the ceiling. I was so excited to see his face.
“Thanks for everything,” I said. No response.
“Yeah, thanks, Oscar!” shouted Julian. He nodded at me, which I knew was his way of saying, Speak up.
“Sure,” Oscar called back. “Came out okay after all.”
“Yeah.” Julian, Mateo, and the gang were already almost at the door. If I walked out too, the conversation would end right there. I felt my chest tightening. Then I saw the rolly chair from Marty’s office by the exit sign. “Oh! And thanks for helping my dad out with the chair. That was really sweet. I mean—generous. Or. Yeah.”
“No problem. Hope it helped.”
He wasn’t making this any easier. But I couldn’t leave. If I left now I could possibly never see him again. There was no reason for him to come to our high school since the show was done, which meant he’d be gone. It would all be over. There were so many things that I couldn’t stop from ending. Life was too short and this night was only here once and he had laughed with my dad, which was the most romantic or at least hopeful thing in the world. So I sucked in some foolish courage and said, “Hey! A bunch of us are going to the Unicorn Diner just FYI if you want to come you don’t have to but I just thought I’d say it in case.”
“I’m in!” he called. Then I heard his feet tramping down the metal ladder and he was next to me, wiping dust out of his eyes with his T-shirt. I tried not to smile too widely.
“There’s just one thing…” I said as we started walking. If we were going to the Unicorn, I needed to prepare myself. Or get a disguise. I pulled out my trusty Groucho glasses from my backpack and put them on.
“Too much?” I asked.
“Not enough,” Oscar answered.
Black Holes Colliding
Chapter 21
IK BELOOF
Dara was thrilled to see us. She was sporting a platinum-blond beehive and had a suspicious new beauty mark just below her left nostril. She led us to one of the big tables in the party room and tugged me lightly by my elbow.
“What’s up, Grouch?” Dara asked. “Don’t I get a hello?”
My Groucho glasses slid down my nose and I accidentally slapped myself trying to get them back on. I smiled politely but couldn’t say anything. I didn’t know what she’d heard about the taped-up front door, and my voice would give me away if Topher was still looking for the culprit.
“She’s on the lam,” Julian told her. “Dara, meet our friends.” He went around making introductions. Mateo told her about how life hadn’t been the same since Julian moved back to Mountainside and how he’d just beheld true art on stage. Julian stuffed a dinner roll in Mateo’s mouth to stop him from going on. Astrid stood up with her water glass and said she’d been sober exactly three years to the day and she owed it all to this incredible network of artists. Everyone raised a glass and started hooting. I really wanted to join in the festive mood. I just kept envisioning the cops popping out from behind a potted ficus and quizzing me about my whereabouts last Friday night.
“You okay?” asked Oscar. I felt bad. He didn’t know anybody at the table except for Julian and the silent black hole known as me.
“Yeah, what’s making you so quiet, Eleanor Rigby?” Dara asked, giving the top of my head a little scratch. Maybe that spot on my scalp had special nerve endings or something, because I could feel my head tingling and my throat got all tight like I was about to cry. I didn’t want Oscar to hear the whole story about Don Juan and the shattered door, but I couldn’t stay mute all night and I really wanted to sit next to him. It would be a little awkward to make him plug his ears. Maybe it would make me look like a badass animal activist.
“I was having a really rough day last Friday,” I began. “Really rough. We got some bad news about my dad and then I was locked out of my house and I thought maybe I could come here and get some toast, but you weren’t here. And neither was Don Juan the lobster.”
Dara bit her lip and smoothed back my hair. She knew from all my early-morning coffee sessions with Julian how bad the bad news could be.
“So I asked the guy who was here what happened to the lobster tank. And he was a little snooty about it, like a why-does-it-matter-anyway kind of thing. I went a little ballistic because, as you know, I thought that lobster was pretty fabulous.” Now Dara scooted me halfway off my chair and wedged her butt in next to me. She nodded solemnly, but it also looked like she was stifling a smile.
“Wait, you think this is funny?” I asked.
“No!” Dara said. “I just—I knew it was you.”
I hunched down so Dara’s profile blocked me from the line cooks. “You knew? How?”
Oscar was switching between our faces, watching us like a tennis match. He raised his hand, then jumped into the fray. “Can I ask a question? Are we talking about a real lobster? And did you say his name was Don Juan?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling my call to arms. “It was a real lobster. A real, live lobster, and someone flushed him down the toilet, or threw him in a Dumpster.”
Dara kissed the top of my head and told me, “Not a Dumpster. But certainly not the burial he deserved.”
“Wait!” I squeaked. “So he did…?”
Dara nodded somberly. It wasn’t exactly a shock, but I also had counted on her telling me Don Juan had just been moved to a sunnier locale or thrown back into the Hudson. I could hear myself panting. Dara handed me my ice water and I gulped it greedily. Meanwhile, she turned to Oscar and explained, “This little lady has some big balls. She went on some rampage about endangered crustaceans that they caught on security camera.”
“What? No!”
“Kidding.” She snorted. “You think that thing actually works? Damn, girl, you need to breathe. The door’s getting replaced Sunday. Stephan’s cousin is a glass expert or something; it is not a big deal.”
“
Yeah but what if…? What if…?” I wanted to trust her that I was in the clear, but it didn’t seem fair or possible that I could get off scot-free.
Dara took out her gum and welded it behind her ear to show me she meant business. “Listen. I am not condoning what you did, but it’s over now. I feel kind of responsible, too, because I was pretty sure Stephan was set on dumping that thing and I didn’t stop him. Turns out there was some bad algae in there and someone had the brilliant idea to clean it with ammonia, which as you probably know is not fun for sea creatures. I’m sorry, my friend. I think I let you down.”
Now I really wanted to cry, but so far Oscar had witnessed every horrible side of me possible. Luckily, Dara had more to say.
“Nobody actually saw you lose your shit except that Topher kid and he’s not exactly well liked around here. He was so caught up in being the hero that night that he ran out after you and left the place unattended and we had two tables leave without paying and he got fired. So really, there were a lot of crappy decisions made, which doesn’t mean two wrongs equal a right, but you know all this.”
She removed my glasses and wiped away the rings of sweat around my eyes.
“So what if?” Dara continued. “That’s what we have to live with every day, dear Lenny. What. If.” And with that, she stood up, walked to the other side of the table, and started taking everyone’s orders.
“Hey, I don’t know exactly what you did, but if you’re running from the law, that’s cool,” said Oscar. “I love that you stood up for a lobster.”
“Thanks,” I said. I wished I still had my Groucho glasses on so he couldn’t see the way my whole face was turning a silly pink.
Oscar took his napkin, folded it into an airplane, and shot it over my head. It made it all the way to the bowl of creamers. “You have a lot of friends who live underwater?”
“Just Don Juan. Although, I guess I haven’t really connected with too many other crustaceans.”
“I hear ya,” Oscar said. “I once hung out with a mollusk. Very aloof.” I tried to make an airplane with my napkin too, but my hands were too fumbly and shaky to do much.
“Seriously, though,” he continued, “there’s this awesome boat called Lobster Tales. It goes up and down the Atlantic coast, testing the acidity levels and doing these kids’ shows about the environment. My mom took me to see them once. I actually applied to be on their crew next year.”
“Oh,” I said. Now my hands were really trembling. Yes, I barely knew this guy and I had no right to expect him to stay here. But it was so hard to keep hearing about everyone moving away or planning the next place that they were going to go and the next horizon they were going to see. I took another swig of water and counted the basket of jelly packets under my breath, trying not to act too sulky.
“Who knows, though,” Oscar went on. “I like what your friend said about what if. Like, what if we didn’t spend so much time trying to prepare for the next gust of wind, you know? It’s more fun to just … see where things go.”
“Right,” I said. “You don’t like getting attached to anything. Cut the cord so the sainted bird can fly? Or something like that.”
Oscar shook his head. “Sorry. I can be a real asshole sometimes.”
“I didn’t think you were an asshole. Just lonely. And possibly a Catholic missionary.” Oscar had a really warm laugh.
“Lonely, yes. Catholic, no.” He sighed. “And I like to use quotes instead of Groucho glasses when I’m hiding.”
I felt my ears getting hot. I deposited my glasses on the salt and pepper shakers and smoothed back the ferocious eyebrow. Then I tried to get interested in everyone else’s conversation even though I just wanted to talk to Oscar all night.
“Can I ask you a weird question?” I mustered.
“Please,” answered Oscar.
“Could you maybe tell me something yucky about yourself? I mean, you’ve kind of seen me at my worst a few times now.”
“That’s hard,” he said. “First of all, I don’t think I’ve seen you at your worst, but more importantly, I have no faults. I’m perfect in every way.” He poked a finger up his nose to show me he was kidding.
“Thank you, that was charming.”
“Yeah, I like to piss people off so there’s no chance of them missing me.” His face got somber and he said quietly, “The truth is, I’ve tried to keep so many relationships, but it’s hard when you’re always saying goodbye.”
“Relationships” sounded like a euphemism for “girlfriends.” But I didn’t dare follow up on that.
“Where are you off to next?” I asked. Not that I wanted to know that either, but I felt like I had to brace myself.
“I honestly don’t know,” answered Oscar. “My mom’s between gigs and I finished all my credits for high school graduation but I have no desire to go to college right away. A few possible job opportunities. A lot of what if.” He wiped a line through the condensation on his water glass and I did the same on mine. Then we watched the sweat drops form again. “I’ve spent so many years living out of a suitcase, you know? This past school year is the longest my mom and I have spent in one town since I was eight. Moving around so much really sucks sometimes.”
“I’ve been in the same house my whole life,” I admitted. “But all my taxes go to Unicorn renovations.”
Oscar smiled and I tried not to notice. “I’m really glad we came in here, because we tried to get my grandma interested in the retirement community just around the corner but she said it was for old people,” he said. “I’m actually thinking of living with her in the Bronx next year.”
I was sure he could hear me screaming inside, Yes! Please. Stay.
Dara started bringing around plates of French fries and mozzarella sticks. Julian snuck up behind me with some burnt toast and said, “Pat of butter?”
It was actually our code for Do you need to leave this situation because if so I’ll make a distraction.
“No thanks,” I said. “You?”
“Please no.”
It was very fun to watch Julian sashay back to the other end of the table and lean into Mateo’s shoulder, laughing.
“I thought of a few more,” Oscar said.
“A few more?”
“A few more crappy things about me. I have never flossed in my life. I once got detained on the way back from a trip to Tijuana because I was trying to smuggle in a bag of papayas. And I get really dark sometimes.”
“Thank you.” I looked into his gray eyes so he knew I meant it. “I want to hear more about all of those things, please. Except for the flossing.”
It definitely was the best night I’d ever spent at the Unicorn. Even though I was starving, I tried to take dainty bites so each one would last longer. The best part of the meal was when Oscar and I reached for the catsup at the same time and brushed forearms. Of course I acted like the Empress of Spazland and took my hand off the bottle too quickly so it crashed down on a plate and flipped a fork into the air, but nothing broke.
“You really want to destroy this place, don’t you?” kidded Oscar.
“To Lenny and her burgeoning career in petty crime!” Julian cheered. Everyone raised a glass.
“To Julian!” I yelled back. I wanted to come up with something funny, but I had too much else to say first. “And his magnificent new world on the West Coast. His new home, his new studies, his new life.”
“Here here!” boomed Mateo. The glasses went up again. Julian looked at me and crossed his eyes so the moment wouldn’t get too sentimental. Then he mouthed the words I love you.
After everyone had eaten enough fried food to anchor us for a week, Dara came over and pinched me in the rib. “Hey, you. I want you to swear that even if Julian the Great is out in San Francisco, you’re going to keep coming back to see me. Otherwise, how am I going to survive?”
“Thanks, Dara. I will.”
“Remember, I got your back, girlfriend.” She hugged me so hard that her beehive started to tip.
Meanwhile, everyone else at the table was getting ready to head out.
“What’s the plan?” I asked Julian.
“Well, there was talk about going into the city and seeing one of Astrid’s friends do some stand-up.” Mateo hooked one arm around Julian and offered me his other. I wanted to go wherever the group was going, but the thought of being on a train late at night again made me queasy. Also, it was already almost eleven and I didn’t want to sleep half the day away tomorrow. Dad and I had firm plans to do a Star Wars marathon.
Julian could tell I wasn’t hot on the idea of going out. He always could read my mind. “Maybe you can get a ride home from someone else. Oscar, which way do you go?” he asked.
“Whichever way you need,” Oscar answered.
“It’s okay. I can totally walk.”
“Of course you can, but it’s late and I’d like to drive you home,” said Oscar. “Is that okay?”
It was more than okay. It was dreamy and sort of otherworldly. We each left a huge tip for Dara and then ambled out to the Unicorn parking lot. Oscar pointed to a crotchety pickup truck that was listing to the left because one tire was clearly smaller than the others. There were bumper stickers all over the back of the bed. My favorites were MY OTHER CAR IS MY FEET and WHAT WOULD MALALA DO?
I decided I wanted to get both of those to stick in my suitcase under my bed. In fact, I wanted to put this whole night in there for safekeeping.
As Oscar drove, the truck creaked and bounced over every divot or loose piece of gravel in the road. We didn’t talk except for my saying, “Right at the fork,” and “Just a few blocks up.” Oscar seemed perfectly content being silent, though. A week ago I thought that meant he was disabled or smug. Now I was holding on to that quiet like a flotation device.
