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Thirteen






IT SEEMED THAT DANTE AND I DIDN’T HAVE MUCH TO say to each other.

I borrowed books of poems from his father and read to him. Sometimes, he would say, “Read that one again.” And so I would. I don’t know what was wrong between us in those last days of summer. In some ways I had never felt closer to him. In other ways I had never felt further away.

Neither one of us went back to work. I don’t know. I guess, after what had happened, it all seemed so pointless.

I made a bad joke one day. “Why does summer always have to end with one of us all beat to hell? ”

Neither one of us laughed at the joke.

I didn’t take Legs to see him because she liked to jump on him and she could hurt him. Dante missed her. But he knew I was right not to take her over.

One morning, I went to Dante’s house and showed him all the pictures of my brother. I told him the story as I understood it, from the newspaper clippings, from the questions my father answered.

“So you want to hear the whole thing? ” I said.

“Tell me, ” he said.

We were both tired of poetry, tired of not talking.

“Okay. My brother was fifteen years old. He was angry. From everything I understand about him, he was always angry. I especially got that from my sisters. I guess he was mean or, just, I don’t know, he was just born angry. So one night he’s roaming around the streets of downtown, looking for trouble. That’s what my father said. He said: ‘Bernardo was always looking for trouble.’ He picked up a prostitute.”

“Where’d he get the money? ”

“I don’t know. What kind of a question is that? ”

“When you were fifteen, did you have money for a prostitute? ”

“When I was fifteen? You say it like it was a long time ago. Hell, I barely had money for a candy bar.”

“That’s my point.”

I looked at him. “Can I finish? ”

“Sorry.”

“The prostitute turns out be a guy.”

“What? ”

“He was a transvestite.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. My brother goes ballistic.”

“How ballistic? ”

“He killed the guy with his fists.”

Dante didn’t know what to say. “God, ” he said.

“Yeah. God.”

A long time went by before either one of us said anything.

Finally, I looked at Dante. “Did you know what a transvestite was? ”

“Yeah. Of course I did.”

“Of course you did.”

“You didn’t know what a transvestite was? ”

“How would I know? ”

“You’re so innocent, Ari, you know that? ”

“Not so innocent, ” I said.

“The story gets sadder, ” I said.

“How can the story get sadder? ”

“He killed someone else.”

Dante didn’t say anything. He waited for me to finish. “He was in a juvenile detention center. I guess one day, he took out his fists again. My mom is right. Things don’t just go away because we want them to.”

“I’m sorry, Ari.”

“Yeah, well, there’s nothing we can do, is there? But it’s good, Dante. I mean, it’s not good for my brother. I don’t know if anything’s ever going to be good with him. But it’s good it’s all out there, you know. In the open.” I looked at him. “Maybe someday I’ll know him. Maybe someday.”

He was watching me. “You look like you’re going to cry.”

“I’m not. It’s just too sad, Dante. And you know what? I’m like him, I think.”

“Why? Because you broke Julian Enriquez’s nose? ”

“You know? ”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew? ”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Ari? ”

“I’m not proud of myself, Dante.”

“Why’d you do it? ”

“I don’t know. He hurt you. I wanted to hurt him back. I did a stupid kind of math in my head.” I looked at him. “Your black eyes are almost gone.”

“Almost, ” he said.

“How are the ribs? ”

“Better. Some nights it’s hard to sleep. So I take a pain pill. I hate them.”

“You’d make a bad drug addict.”

“Maybe not. I really liked pot. I really did.”

“Maybe your mother should interview you for that bookshe’s writing.”

“Well, she already gave me hell.”

“How’d she find out? ”

“I keep telling you. She’s like God. She knows everything.”

I tried not to laugh but I couldn’t help it. Dante laughed too. But it hurt him to laugh. With his cracked ribs.

“You’re not, ” he said. “You’re not like your brother at all.”

“I don’t know, Dante. Sometimes I think I’ll never understand myself. I’m not like you. You know exactly who you are.”

“Not always, ” he said. “Can I ask you a question? ”

“Sure.”

“Does it bother you, that I was kissing Daniel? ”

“I think Daniel’s a piece of shit.”

“He’s not. He’s nice. He’s good-looking.”

“He’s good-looking? How shallow is that? He’s a piece of shit, Dante. He just left you there.”

“You sound like you care more than I do.”

“Well, you should care.”

“You wouldn’t have done that, would you? ”

“No.”

“I’m glad you broke Julian’s nose.”

We both laughed.

“Daniel doesn’t care about you.”

“He was scared.”

“So what? We’re all scared.”

“You’re not, Ari. You’re not scared of anything.”

“That’s not true. But I wouldn’t have let them do that to you.”

“Maybe you just like to fight, Ari.”

“Maybe.”

Dante looked at me. He just kept looking at me.

“You’re staring, ” I said.

“Can I tell you a secret, Ari? ”

“Can I stop you? ”

“You don’t like knowing my secrets.”

“Sometimes your secrets scare me.”

Dante laughed. “I wasn’t really kissing Daniel. In my head, I was kissing you.”

I shrugged. “You got to get yourself a new head, Dante.”

He looked a little sad. “Yeah. Guess so.”

 

 






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