"Hi, Ari!" Dante stood up and approached me.
"Hello, Dante." We were standing in front of each other, not really knowing what to do. We weren't gonna kiss. Not there, not where people could see us.
"So," he smiled, "you are not here to tell me that you changed your mind, right?" he kept his smile, but I could see the worry behind it. I hated that.
"No, have you?" I said as he leaned into me and gave a kiss in the cheek. Innocent enough.
"We could go swimming."
I watched Dante start by taking off his pants. I guess I must have started blushing because he said, "you're not gonna make me change someplace else, are you?"
"What?" I muttered.
He laughed, "I just, I guess you look a bit uncomfortable."
I was. Somehow Dante could make me feel self-conscious. Even if I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and he was only wearing a speedo. He could be like that, convince you that the way that he did things was the only way they should be done.
"Fine." I started changing and threw my towel over my shoulder. I knew my mom wouldn't approve of this particular towel but she hadn't seen me leave. Or maybe she had. I knew she was trying to let go. To hover less. I wondered if she would ever stop. Maybe she would. Maybe one day I would be the one hovering.
I hated to admit it. But Dante was a better swimmer than I. We started with a few laps to warm up, he said. At one point, I stopped. Not because I was tired, well not entirely because I was tired. But rather, because he looked so perfect. Every stroke looked so intent. That's the thing about Dante, when he did something he threw himself into it. It seemed to me that there was nothing that he wasn't entirely committed to. Except the Mexican thing. He didn't like to be reminded that he was a half-assed Mexican. Dante wasn't half of anything. Sometimes it seemed like he was the entire universe, how beautiful was that?
There I was, thinking. I guess I was looking sort of lost because Dante touched my lower back and said, "Hey, I feel like you're not really here. Y'know?"
"What are you talking about? 'Course I'm here"
"I'm not so sure about that," I could feel his hand drift away. Why was I shivering? "Something my therapist said once."
"Your therapist?"
"Yeah," he looked at me as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle, "after the accident."
"After the accident." I didn't really know why I was repeating his words.
"And in Chicago."
"Chicago?" Of course, Chicago. I knew Soledad hadn't left Dante off the hook that easily. But I guess I never thought she would make him go to a counselor in Chicago too.
"Yeah, Chicago." He looked away. "Anyways, she called that dissociating."
I looked at him blankly.
"It's when you go away in your mind," he said as a matter of the fact.
"Yeah, I do that sometimes."
"We all do, Ari. Anyways she was sort of sketchy."
We both laughed, I remembered the day we met. That day felt so far away, and yet there was a certain beauty to how much everything had changed and how much of it stayed the same. Dante's ability to make me laugh for once, had remained the same. Maybe that would never change.
As we got off the pool, I noticed him staring at me. "What?"
"What?" he grinned, "I'm allowed to stare now."
Dammit, could he make me blush.
"Oh, c'mon Ari. Relax."
"I am relaxed."
"You're not. Anyways, it's not like I ever stopped. I just did it more discreetly, or at least I tried to." He looked at me. "After Chicago it got really hard. Because, Ari, you really did work out. I remember wondering where had you gotten all those muscles-"
"Okay fine," I said maybe a little too harshly.
Dante tried really hard not to laugh, but he wasn't the kind of person to stop himself from feeling. There was a special bravery in him, his complete refusal to become numb. Dante took the blows, he didn't care. Or perhaps he cared too much. Was there really much difference?
Finally, we were heading home, or to his home rather. I had a feeling that I was going to be around much more often. Mr. Quintana greeted us from his studio, "Ari, are you staying for lunch?"
Dante looked at me. "Well, are you?"
"I…," I wasn't sure why I was hesitating, it seemed to me like this was different. The first time since we told them. All of the sudden I got very embarrassed, I mean, what kind of guy did I think I was? The Quintanas were so nice to me and I didn't know what I had ever done to deserve their affection, "I don't think I am, sorry. I have to get back home."
Dante looked into my eyes. I saw the hurt in his. I couldn't handle it.
I started to run. Not sure where I was headed. I remembered the word that Dante had taught me disassociation. It seemed to me like that was the exact opposite of what I was feeling. I didn't feel like I was outside my body, I felt like I was maybe too much inside it. I thought that maybe Dante would know the word for that too. Maybe he would. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe there was no word. I didn't notice that I had already ran way past my home. The trees seemed unfamiliar, how much time had I been running? I sat down, feeling the hard concrete under me. I tried to breathe, I closed my eyes. I remembered the accident. I remembered how I had both of legs in casts. I remembered how closing my eyes was the only I could do to try and calm down the itching.
Breathe. I kept repeating that to myself, again and again and again and again. I noticed that my nails were digging into my palms, I unclenched my fists. I took another deep breath. I opened my eyes. There were birds flying in the sky, sparrows. Dante would love to see them. He would probably say something beautiful. I didn't think that I could ever say anything as beautiful the things he said. Maybe I was not meant for beauty. Maybe I could be someday. Someday. I don't know how much time I spent there. I only know that when I finally found my way home my mom was sitting in out front porch. Talking with none other than Dante Quintana.