Little & Lion

by Brandy Colbert

  But even I know I can’t stay in the middle forever, that when it comes to him and his health, there is no in-between. I have to make a choice.

  seventeen.

  DeeDee and her girlfriend are back on again, just in time for Alicia’s big Fourth of July party. We missed it last summer because they hadn’t yet met, but DeeDee says the party has been going on for years, started by Alicia’s older sister when she was in high school and still thriving since Alicia took the reins.

  “Her parents go up to Big Bear every year,” Dee says when we’re up in her bedroom, getting ready before the party. We’re sitting together in front of her vanity, our butts perched on the small, velvet-covered seat. “So I guess it can get kinda wild sometimes.”

  “Lion is meeting us there. With Rafaela.” I brush a curved mascara wand across the length of my eyelashes. Emil will be there, too.

  It’s the first time I’ll be in the same place as both Rafaela and Emil and I’m trying not to think too hard about it, but I can’t help feeling anxious. If Lionel has noticed how I feel about her, Emil can’t be far behind. DeeDee, too. It’s probably best to stay away from her tonight—as much as I can without being obvious.

  “Showing up at parties together, huh? And this is the first party he’s been to in God knows how long.” Dee runs a brush through her thick, reddish-blond hair. “Did he do a total one-eighty or what?”

  I shake my head, though it’s hard to watch his behavior as closely when we’re not really talking. He’s upset with me, with the fact that I brought up his meds again. He’s not spinning out and I don’t sense he’s depressed, either, but I know it could go either way in an instant. I watch Mom and Saul when the four of us are together, but they haven’t noticed anything. So maybe Lionel is right. Maybe it’s not hypomania. Maybe he is managing his illness alone. But the rational part of me knows that would be too lucky, that more often than not, it doesn’t work that way.

  “Lionel’s in love.”

  “Wow.” Dee turns to look at me, her eyes wide. “Do you approve?”

  “Rafaela is cool.”

  Dee toys with the hairbrush in her hand. “Grace says she has shit taste in guys, so maybe she’s turning over a new leaf with your brother.”

  “Maybe Grace is just jealous that Rafaela is with someone besides her.” I’m sure DeeDee isn’t aware of Rafaela’s whole story, but I feel the need to defend her.

  “They’re not like that. Clean breakup.” She hesitates. “Are you still mad at Grace?”

  I hold the mascara wand in midair. “Not mad. I’m not thinking about her or what happened all the time, but it’s not like she ever apologized.”

  “Well, she’s embarrassed,” DeeDee says slowly. “Alicia told me she feels terrible.”

  “How does she think Emil and I felt? She never said anything to us.”

  DeeDee looks down at the cluttered top of the vanity. “Everyone fucks up, though, right?”

  “Yeah, everyone fucks up.” I sigh. “But when you fuck up, you say you’re sorry.”

  “You’re right. Do you want me to ask Alicia if she’ll apologize?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “A forced apology is worse than nothing at all. Just… listening is good. Thanks for doing that.”

  Alicia lives in the Valley, the utter bane of DeeDee’s existence.

  “It’s just Studio City,” I say as we pass the little market off Laurel Canyon Boulevard. “That’s basically your neighborhood.”

  “Oh, my dear, sweet Suzette,” she says with a sigh. “You act as if I’d date anyone who lived any deeper into the Valley. Alicia barely passed my test.”

  “So things are good with you two now?”

  “Eh, good enough.” She grits her teeth and taps her fingers against the steering wheel as we crawl up the winding road behind a small white car that brakes at nearly every turn, the driver clearly uncomfortable with the sharply curved roads of the canyon. “She convinced me that we don’t need to date other people, at least not for the rest of the summer.”

  “How’d she do that?”

  DeeDee looks over with a sly smile.

  We aren’t the first to arrive, but the house is still in pristine condition and everyone is still sober. A giant American flag is planted on the front of the house, waving in the slight breeze. Inside, Alicia has decorated with red, white, and blue streamers, patriotic paper fans, and ceramic bowls with stars and stripes painted along the outside that hold pretzels and chips. American flag–themed pinwheels are piled in the corner of the coffee table.

  Alicia herself is decked out in a pair of white shorts flecked with blue stars, a red tank top, and a metallic Uncle Sam hat. She pulls DeeDee in for a kiss as soon as we walk inside. I do a quick scan of the room to see if anyone I know is here, and notice Grace watching me from across the living room, next to the stone fireplace. We nod at each other, but no attempt to talk is made from either end. I’m grateful when Emil and Justin show up a couple of minutes later, though I can’t stop wondering when Lion and Rafaela will be here, too.

  Justin immediately walks out back to check on the keg and, with DeeDee distracted by Alicia, Emil and I have this corner of the room to ourselves. He kisses me, directly on the lips, and I think how good it feels, to be so open about what we’re becoming… whatever that is. And then how guilty I feel, too, because I was never brave enough to have this with Iris.

  A few more of Alicia’s friends show up, all strangers to me; people who go to school with her and Rafaela and Grace. It’s a different crowd than the one we hang with from my old school. There’s lots of hair dyed bright colors and black clothes and plenty of piercings and tattoos, but there’s a different vibe than our crowd. Maybe that they’re not so much artsy as they are badass. I’m slightly intimidated by them.

  Catie Ransom slips through the door not long after we’ve arrived and surveys the scene with a look on her face like she’s tasted something bad. I try to discreetly move from her line of vision, but she sees us right away and walks over in her boots and black shorts and crocheted black crop top.

  “What is this?” She points her finger back and forth between Emil and me.

  I frown, even less in the mood for her than I normally am. “What is what?”

  “Are you guys, like, together?”

  “What if we are?” Emil says, parroting the derision of her tone.

  Catie steps back for a moment, looks at him with surprise and a tiny bit of respect. Emil usually doesn’t let Catie bother him and he doesn’t talk to people the way she does, and I think she likes this side of him, no matter how brief.

  “Hey, whatever makes you happy.” She shrugs before walking past us to the kitchen.

  I don’t like how this night is starting out.

  Rafaela and Lionel are among the last of the “first-tier crowd” (Alicia’s words) to show up, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see his red head ducking through the doorway. Rafaela’s arm is looped through his and despite the fact that I’m holding Emil’s hand, it makes my heart jump with envy. But I feel a sting when I look at Lionel, too, and I realize it’s bugging me that his first official outing this summer is with her and not us, the people he’s known forever.

  They walk over to us, both beaming, and I try to hide all the feelings I shouldn’t be feeling. I wonder if Lionel will act like the other day didn’t happen, like everything is good between us.

  But then Catie is back from the kitchen in what seems like record time, a can of beer in hand and eyes wide as she stares at my brother. “Holy shit. You are alive.”

  Lionel blinks at her. “Nobody said I wasn’t.”

  “Well, I haven’t seen you out in forever.” She takes a long drink. “And it’s not like your sister over here ever tells us anything.”

  I stand tall and glare at her but, true to Catie’s statement, keep my mouth shut.

  “If you have something to say to me, just say it.” There’s not a hint of playfulness in Lionel’s tone.

&n
bsp; She swigs from her beer again as she appraises him, but she doesn’t respond.

  “Right.” He stares hard at her. “You’d rather say it when I’m not around.”

  “Fine.” She holds his gaze, a battle of steely blue eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Everyone in our group is silent. No, speechless.

  “What’s wrong with me? Right now it’s that I’m standing here talking to a waste of time like you,” Lionel says coolly.

  Catie’s mouth drops open. “How dare you, Li—”

  “Fuck off, Catie. I know what you’ve been saying. Stop talking shit behind my back.”

  She doesn’t recover. Catie always recovers. And if she was impressed by Emil standing up to her earlier, she seems almost scared of Lionel. I’ve never seen her so caught off guard, her mouth still hanging open as she waits for a response that doesn’t come.

  Lionel turns his back, edging her out of the circle, and behind him I see her retreating to the front of the room, still looking stunned.

  “Uh, so you’re kind of super sexy when you’re mad,” Rafaela says, grinning up at my brother like he’s Prince Charming.

  He blushes, returning her smile.

  “What’s in there?” I gesture to the brown paper bag in his left hand to change the subject. I don’t know how much everyone understood from that conversation, and I don’t want to linger on it.

  “Liquor, fireworks, cake,” he ticks off, holding open the bag so I can see.

  Rafaela smiles at me, squeezing my brother’s arm. “All the essentials.”

  “Cake?” Emil peers down. I look, too. The cake is from a grocery store, round and covered in a plastic dome. The icing is thick and white, decorated with holiday-themed sprinkles.

  “Wait.” I look at my brother. “Where’d you get fireworks?”

  He waves his hand back and forth a few times. “I don’t know, some stand I passed on the way home from Boyle Heights.”

  “What were you doing in Boyle Heights?”

  They ignore my question as Rafaela tugs on his arm. “It’s dark out,” she says, and when I look over her eyes are shining. But not like she’s been drinking—more like she’s fueled by the mere presence of my brother. “We should start setting it up.”

  “Setting what up?” I ask, looking back and forth between the two of them.

  Rafaela grins at me. “Don’t look so worried, Little.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I snap. And I look to Lionel to see if he will back me up, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s preoccupied, digging in the bottom of the paper bag.

  Rafaela just keeps grinning and starts to drag him away, toward the back of the house. But not before she says to me, “You don’t have to be so serious. It’s the Fourth of July!”

  I watch them until they disappear completely, and I can feel Emil watching me, but I don’t look over. He leans in close and asks if I’m okay. I say yes, but both of us know I’m lying.

  A tray of Jell-O shots starts a path around the room and Emil intercepts it before they can cruise by us. He looks at me questioningly and takes two red ones when I nod. “Cheers,” he says, tapping the rim of his against mine.

  The pat of cherry Jell-O slides easily down my throat with a tang from the alcohol that makes my lips smack. Emil crushes my cup with the one in his hand and takes them to a nearby trash can. DeeDee swoops in as soon as he’s gone, eyes wide and smile huge. “Holding hands. You guys are the real deal, huh?”

  “We haven’t talked about it, really.” My face is hot like I’m talking to an audience instead of my best friend. “I don’t know what we are.”

  “Whatever, I’m just glad you finally realized what a goddamn catch he is,” she whispers, bouncing away as Emil returns.

  The sound system in Alicia’s house plays through every room, the recessed speakers emitting a mix of patriotic music that’s almost never played outside of this holiday and sporting events. Emil and I wander through the house, examining the intimate belongings of a person we only know peripherally. Family pictures cover the walls of the living room and front hallway, framed photos of Alicia, her mother, and her older sister. The dining room and kitchen are practically bursting with alcohol, more than I’ve ever seen in one place and certainly more than we usually have at our parties.

  Justin finds us in the dining room next to a half dozen types of tequila. He’s carefully holding three plastic cups of beer, the foam almost brimming over the top.

  “Have you seen Lionel?” I try to sound casual as I ask, but I see Emil’s head turn slightly toward me and he must sense my worry.

  “He’s outside with his girl. They’re hanging all over each other.”

  “Oh,” I say flatly.

  Emil looks at me again. “You don’t like her?” he asks, and I realize I never introduced them, that the only thing he knows about her is she’s my coworker and Lionel’s girlfriend.

  But before I can answer, a loud pop interrupts my train of thought—not as loud as I’d imagine a shotgun sounds, but definitely not a car backfiring, either.

  “What the fuck is that?” Alicia says, pressing down on her hat. She’s standing a few feet away with DeeDee, but when the popping noise doesn’t stop she cuts her way through the people in the room, heading out to the backyard.

  We all follow and as soon as I see Lionel and Rafaela standing with a lighter and the paper bag between them, I stop by the door. Alicia keeps walking out to them, and I think maybe she’ll be angry, but instead she laughs and says, “Oh my God, you got fireworks? Yes!”

  “Your neighbors are going to be so pissed,” DeeDee calls out, standing next to me.

  “So what?” Rafaela calls back, doing a little shimmy. A fireworks dance. “It’s not even midnight. We’ll set them all off at once. Come on!”

  And DeeDee does. So does Justin, and then it’s just Emil and me, watching silently as the five of them light up the contents of the bag in a steady stream of hissing, whistling sparks and pops that make my heart beat too fast. I want to walk away but I’m afraid of what will happen if I do, so I plug my ears and stand next to Emil.

  “Happy fucking Fourth of July!” Lionel yells at the top of his lungs, and everyone laughs and joins in his cheers, and I wonder if one of the neighbors will call the cops if this keeps up.

  “Is your brother…” Emil pauses, careful with his words. “Is he doing all right?”

  I don’t say anything, which is an answer in itself.

  They save the sparklers for last, Rafaela lighting them up and handing them out as if she’s a mom distributing Halloween candy. She dances over to us with a sparkler in each hand, twirling the fiery sticks like pyrotechnic batons. I shake my head when she holds one out to me and Emil does the same, and she shrugs and smirks as if to say it’s our loss.

  Soon the ground is littered with debris and the air smells like rotten eggs and Rafaela is pirouetting across the yard with the last sparkler in one hand and my brother’s hand in the other as he twirls her around and around.

  Justin wanders back over to us, swirling a finger through the head on his topped-off beer. “Some people are getting a game of flip cup going in the garage. You guys game?”

  “I’ll watch,” I say, but I’m not looking at him. I’m still watching Rafaela and Lion, hoping their excessive energy will die out with the sparkler.

  “Dude, you drove us here.” Emil raises an eyebrow at Justin. They exchange a couple of looks until Emil sighs. “And I guess I’m driving us home.”

  We follow Justin to the garage, where a long card table has been set up in the middle, away from the dusty boxes and bicycles and crates filled to bursting stacked alongside the walls. Two pitchers of beer are set up on either end of the table and teams are assembling, a tangle of arms and plastic cups attempting to find their way to the appropriate side. I try not to look for Lionel, and Emil tries to pretend like he doesn’t notice me looking, but it’s obvious every time I whip my head around when someone new comes into vi
ew.

  And then Lionel is standing on the end farthest from us and I tense up instantly. I remember what he said at the lake: I’m not doing anything wrong. And right now, he’s not. He’s laughing and holding a beer like everyone else, taking sips as he talks to Rafaela. The shouting, firework-shooting guy from just a few minutes ago seems to have calmed down, which calms me down, at least for a moment. I remind myself that this is what I wanted—for him to be back out again, hanging with our friends, acting like he belongs with everyone else.

  But now that he is, I’m worried. He was supposed to be around us as his new self—pills, regulated moods, and all. Not off his meds and glued to Rafaela and already way too comfortable with partying. I was nervous in the tree house when we drank the rum with DeeDee, but that was controlled. Close to home, with people he knows. Now I think he might be trying to keep up with everyone else, pretending he’s had more experience with alcohol than he really has.

  The hand not holding a beer involuntarily tightens at my side, perhaps because I’m so tempted to walk across the room and pull him away—from Rafaela and the game and all the buzzing in this room that he doesn’t need to soak up.

  I can’t stop squeezing my hand into a fist because I can’t stop looking at and thinking of Lionel, so as the game officially starts, I reach for Emil’s hand. He startles for a moment and it sends relief flooding through me. This is all still new to him, too. We’re both figuring out what we are. He looks over and smiles.

  Even as the crisp, cold beer starts to soften the edges of the room, it’s impossible to relax. I’m keeping an eye on Lionel, but I’m also watching Rafaela. I haven’t seen them together since he first met her at the shop, and everything she told me the other day rings true in their actions. They’re always attached to each other in some way: Lionel grabbing her hand or Rafaela standing behind him with her arms around his waist, her cheek flat against his back; after he takes his turn at flip cup he swivels around and they kiss for a few beats longer than necessary. They’re so comfortable with each other, but it doesn’t seem honest, their relationship. She doesn’t even know about his meds.