“I haven’t picked up but he keeps leaving voicemails,” he goes on, and now he’s staring at the water running into the sink, down the garbage disposal. “He wants to see me when I go visit my mom next week, but…”
He leans on the sink and stares out the window over it, knuckles white, a muscle in his jaw flexing. Javi’s a little shorter than me and he’s sort of pretty in a way I’m not: dark hair pulled off his face, wisps floating out and framing high cheekbones and dark eyes. Between that and the art, he’s the kind of guy who’d have gotten made fun of in my high school locker room.
Javier sighs.
“I dunno.”
“You can say no.”
“Yeah. Of course,” he says, and I know he’s thinking: but can I?
We both stand there for a moment, and I let Javier think in silence.
“Maybe he wants to apologize this time,” he says, and there’s a hopeful note in his voice that hurts to hear.
“Is Bastien still gonna be there?”
Javier snorts. Fondly.
“Yeah, he still thinks I’m a damsel in distress who needs a brave knight to ride to the rescue by getting into a shouting match,” he says. “Which, historically, has solved nothing but is sometimes good entertainment.”
Javier’s got a sister, Thalia, and a brother, Bastien. Bastien’s seven years younger than Javier but he’s gregarious and athletic and traditionally masculine in a way thoughtful, artistic Javier isn’t, and he’s decided that anyone who wants to get to Javier is going to have to get through him.
He’s also gay and not out to their father. According to Javier, he’s saving that revelation for the time it’ll be most useful as a distraction.
“You don’t even have to go,” I point out, even though I know he knows already. “Cancel and head to Wildwood for a few days.”
“Maybe,” he says, with a little half-shrug. “I did want to see my mom, though. And my obnoxious brother, I guess.”
I nod as he shuts off the water, and I hand him the towel to dry his hands.
“I’m here,” I tell him, and it gets a warm, quiet smile.
“I know,” he says. “Thanks.”