The Lost Boys Symphony (16 page)

I
f Gabe had
known they were going to kiss, he wouldn’t have been so smooth about it.  

They’d each had trouble speaking when Val first arrived at the house. She looked effortlessly amazing, which to Gabe was always the best kind of amazing. Her hair was gathered up in a loose bun on the back of her head. Auburn forks of it escaped to tickle her exposed neck. It reminded Gabe of the morning he’d woken up with her, how he’d fantasized about burying his lips in it.

Before she arrived the musical hallucinations had kept coming in unpredictable waves. And hallucinations were what they were, Gabe was sure of it by then. He hadn’t yet pieced together the implications, and he didn’t really want to. It was the same with how Val made it all stop. He wondered why, but the why was immaterial. She was his escape hatch and that was all that mattered.

They left the house and walked a block before Val spoke.

“Cal was trying to bait me,” she said.

They both laughed. Silence resumed.

Gabe looked behind them every few minutes. Henry would know she was in town. He would follow them just as he’d followed Gabe to and from the city. If he was even real. For the time being it didn’t matter whether Gabe was avoiding a flesh-and-blood time traveler or a figment of his imagination. All that mattered was that he get through the evening without seeing Henry, without freaking out or throwing up or getting overtaken by terror.

“I wasn’t prepared for how being back here was going to make me feel,” said Val.

“What do you mean?” Gabe was glad she was speaking. It gave him an excuse to look at her as they walked.

“Getting off the train…it just felt weird I guess.”

Gabe kept looking at her. Was he staring? How had he walked with her before? Did he ever casually touch her? Did he make eye contact? Suddenly he couldn’t recall what it was like to walk next to anyone at all. It felt as if he’d never done it before.

“It’s like I just stepped into a different version of myself. The one who lives here and goes to classes on College Avenue and spends depressing nights by myself in the dorm. It’s hard to remember how much has changed since then.”

“A lot,” said Gabe. He felt stupid.

They arrived at Gabe and Cal’s go-to Indian joint on Easton.

Gabe would come to remember their meal together as a collection of thoughts and images, each one isolated and beautiful. The greasy dosa bread between Val’s fingertips. How unself-conscious she was with the messy Indian food and the way her laughter rose above every other noise in the restaurant. Gabe almost didn’t recognize Val that night. The shapes that made up her face seemed to exist independently of one another, and he could feel his brain putting her together. He’d seen but not really noticed the tiny dimple on the underside of her left cheek, the little dip in her hairline, the length of her eyelashes. Her smile was familiar, but nuances were visible that hadn’t been before. She didn’t have just one smile, she had thousands.

The green chilies in his masala dosa might have been partly responsible, but Gabe was euphoric. His lips burned and his skin tingled. Time moved in short bursts interrupted by long pauses. His face hurt from smiling and his diaphragm ached from laughing. When finally they stood up and stepped outside, Gabe put his hand in the air to give Val a high five and said, “Great dinner.”  The high five turned into a hand-clasped half hug. That hug ended with each of them trying to kiss the other’s cheek, but they both turned an inch too far. When their lips touched it wasn’t straight on. The corners of their mouths overlapped, that was all. It was chaste and quick. Val didn’t recoil, and neither did Gabe, but they didn’t keep on kissing. She put her cheek against his and hugged him a little harder, rocked from one foot to the other. They held the pose. Her closeness was an admission that something strange was happening, but its persistence signaled it wasn’t reason for panic or fear. It was as if their bodies were talking.

Val’s tense neck said
The kiss was a mistake.
The rest of her body said
But it’s okay
.

Gabe’s arms said something like
Mistakes are good
.

She relaxed into him and leaned her head on his shoulder, moving her lips as far from his as she could.
I can’t.

Gabe in turn rested his chin on her head.
That makes perfect sense. But really?

She released him and smiled reassuringly.

“Let’s get a drink,” she said.

Gabe laughed. “This is New Brunswick,” he said. “Everyone cards.”

“Well, I’m from New York,” she said, her voice a funny version of the mocking baby talk Henry used when he wanted to make fun of Gabe. “
Everyone has really good fake IDs.”

They walked downtown. Most of the bars between the train station and the ghetto catered to a more middle-aged clientele. The State Theater and George Street Playhouse brought them. Gabe had always imagined that it was the quintessential married date night: dinner in town followed by the touring company of an Irish dance troupe or
Les Miserables
starring nobody you’ve ever heard of. If they’d gone to one of the college bars, he’d have been carded at the door. But since they were downtown they managed to slip into a brewery-slash-grill. There was a standing table in the corner, out of sight from the bar so Val could go up and retrieve drinks without the bartender asking questions about who she was buying for.

Gabe asked for a Keystone Light but Val rolled her eyes and brought back something dark that smelled like weed and tasted like burnt rubber. She was drinking the same. Their flirtation continued, but it felt different now. Where before the banter was natural and unconscious, now it felt forced, as if they each had something to prove. It felt as if they were negotiating, but about what, Gabe didn’t know.

When their conversation hit a lull, Gabe chugged the half of his beer that was left. He didn’t enjoy it.

“We can’t hook up,” said Val.

Gabe’s stomach tightened. On the face of it she was changing the subject. In reality they both knew that the possibility of sex was the only conversation they’d been having since dinner.

Gabe met her gaze and held it.

She smiled, an apology, but a sweet one.

“I know,” said Gabe. He looked at the table, traced a circle of dried something with one finger. Disappointment was only part of what he felt. There was shame, too, and a bit of fear. Henry could be standing outside the bar, hidden in the dark. They had already laughed and carried on enough to show how little he was factoring into their evening.

But despite all that, Gabe was excited. Val had broken through. They were discussing
it.
They might be able to put it to rest for the night, maybe even for a few more days or weeks. But the
We shouldn’t do this
conversation wouldn’t end as long as they wanted each other. It was a hungry question, one that would require more and more energy to try to answer until finally it would catch them in a moment of weakness and force them into action.

“I want to,” she said. “It’s not just you.”

“Hm.”

“It’s just, I thought you should know that.”

“Thanks.” Gabe meant it, but he sounded sarcastic.

“Hey. Gabe.”

He looked up from the stained tabletop.

“I love hanging out with you. I feel like this is what friendship is supposed to be like. We just barely got this. And we can keep it. We both need it. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“I figured it was more about Henry.”

“Henry is reason enough.” She looked wounded, a little guilty. “You’re right. It’s just hard to remember that he’s really gone. It’s just too bizarre. Especially because my life—our lives—they just keep moving on. I really hope he’s okay. But I can’t imagine how he could be.”

Henry’s fine. I saw him.
Gabe almost said it. He wanted to tell her. If only to explain to her that Henry didn’t mind. But of course he couldn’t. He didn’t even know if the Henry he’d spoken to was real. If he was, Gabe had promised not to tell. It was the only thing Henry had asked.

Well. Not the only thing.

When it happens, I don’t want you to think about me.

“I just have this feeling,” said Gabe, “like he’s fine. Not
fine
fine. I mean, obviously.” He couldn’t say it without really saying it. “Like he’s going to be back and he’ll stay, but that right now he just needs to explore a little bit. He’s not in any state to do that safely, I know, but…I guess I just trust him.”

Val crinkled her brow. “But Gabe,” she said, “he’s not himself.”

“You’re right. And that’s another feeling I have. He’s never going to be himself again. Not the Henry that we know.”

Val sipped her beer. She was drinking it slowly and deliberately, like wine. Gabe wondered if maybe she didn’t like it either. “You’re probably right,” she said. “But it feels like a betrayal, I guess.”

“What does?”

“That we’re even here. That we’re out, having fun.” And then, hesitantly, “Together.”

“I know what you mean,” said Gabe, “but don’t you think he’d rather know that you’re hanging out with me? That we’re both trying to deal with this together? I mean, we’re here because of him.”

“That’s true,” she said, “but it just sounds so wrong. Boy goes nuts, his ex-girlfriend and his best friend start hanging out together. Talking on the phone. Living it up. You know?”

“It would be better if we weren’t having fun?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I guess it would.” She smiled.

“I doubt Henry would give a shit if he knew that you and I were just sitting around crying over him for hours on end. He left Jan at home, didn’t he? She must be devastated.” There was anger in his voice; he could feel it, though he wasn’t sure what he was angry about. “I think we’ve both found something here, together, that we can’t get anywhere else. That’s not a betrayal of Henry.”

Val looked relieved. “I know you’re right,” she said. “But look at us. We’re not just finding comfort. I mean we
are,
but that’s not all we’re doing.”

“What do you mean?” He knew he was being coy, but it seemed important that he get her to say it. He wanted her to give voice to her desire.

“You know what I mean.”

Gabe nodded gravely. “But we can’t do that,” he said. Not a question, but not strictly a statement either.

“No,” she said.

Gabe lifted his glass and she did the same. They clinked and Gabe laughed a little.

After that they grew more relaxed. Perhaps by drawing a line they would not cross for Henry’s sake they had given themselves permission to do whatever they wanted on the safe side of that line. Val retrieved another round of beers and Gabe tried to get used to the bitterness. Val said it was an “aypeeyay,” and Gabe assumed it was something exotic until he looked at the drinks menu and realized that it was an acronym. He told Val as though she didn’t already know. She laughed at him, her hand on his upper arm.

One more round later they decided to leave. Gabe was drunk enough not to fear the backstreets. They walked in the dark. He forgot the music, forgot to look for Henry. Val kept her hands in her pockets, but she kept leaning in to him, so Gabe slipped his arm around her shoulders. She let him. It felt natural to touch her. The alcohol made him feel like his old self, like he was harmlessly flirting with the Val whose relationship with Henry was central to Gabe’s own life. But his arm sat on her longer than their previous friendship would have allowed. Then she reciprocated by wriggling her hand around his back, holding on to the fabric of his jacket. Gabe felt something ignite in the dark space beneath his sternum.

The house was dark and silent. He’d been counting on Cal to be there, if only to simplify the rest of the night. Cal would cut the tension, force both of them to act like the friends they were.

If Val noticed or cared that they were alone, she didn’t show it. “I gotta pee,” she said.

Gabe wondered how drunk she felt, listened for it in her heavy footfalls on the stairs. He sat down in the living room. He knew that if he turned on the TV they would probably fall asleep on the couch without any further awkwardness. It seemed like a good plan, which was probably why he had such a hard time following through with it. He put his feet on the coffee table. Then he took them down. He kicked off his shoes and crossed his legs underneath him. He was in the center of the blue couch. She would probably sit on the other sofa. The added space between them would help quiet his mind.

He heard running water from upstairs. Not just the toilet but the sink, too. For a while. She wasn’t just washing her hands. Gabe pictured her checking herself out in the mirror, splashing her face, brushing her teeth. Finally the door opened and she came down the stairs, this time bounding a little,
ba-bump bum-bump bum-bump
.

“I used your face wash,” she said. “At least I think it was yours.”

“That’s fine,” said Gabe. Her makeup was gone. Without the shadows over her eyes or the mascara darkening her lashes, she looked partially naked. It was intimate, as if she was more present in the room. She was showing him what the rest of the world didn’t often see.

Val walked around the coffee table and sat on the sofa that Gabe wasn’t already hogging. A moment later she got up.

“I’m gonna change.”

Gabe nodded and finally turned on the television. Val crossed the room in front of him once to get her bag from the kitchen, once more to get to his bedroom. The door slid shut. He turned the muffled sounds he heard through the door into images. She was slipping out of her jeans, placing her fingers underneath the band of her underwear to free the elastic where it stuck. Now she was taking off her shirt, reaching her hands behind her back to unhook the clasp of her bra, shoulder blades protruding, hands awkwardly stretching up behind her. Gabe imagined the feeling of the cold air across her chest and the weight of her breasts when they were finally released.

It hurt to want her so much.

When she came out a minute later in oversized yoga pants and a big long-sleeved T-shirt, he had to force himself to breathe. She probably thought she was dressing as unattractively as possible, but her shirt was old and worn. It hung off her body, pulling at her collar bones, falling sharply from the peaks of her nipples. She sat down. Gabe stared at the television as though it were the only thing in the world.