Page 45 of Like a Love Story
“Art, let’s get out of here,” Judy whispers. “They’re not worth it.”
It’s when the crowds start to part, that I see him standing in the back, behind a group of kids. Reza. He looks shell-shocked, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me. Or maybe he’s looking at Judy. I don’t know. But he doesn’t move, and I want to shake him, make the person I knowis underneath all that fear break free. I want to kiss him and kill him at the same time.
“Okay, clear out, everyone,” Mrs. Starr says. “The show is over, and so is lunch. Get to your afternoon classes.” As the crowd starts to disperse, she looks at me once more. “There is no ACT UP group at this school, Art. And you’re looking at a lot of detention.”
“Whatever,” I say, having run out of eloquent things to say.
I watch as Darryl, Saadi, and their complicit buddies walk past Reza. “What are you staring at, ayatollah?” Darryl asks Reza as they pass him, and Reza says nothing, and Saadi says nothing.
Eventually, there’s no one left but me and Judy, and Reza, who approaches us. He doesn’t come too close, though, and this distance feels like a dagger being plunged into me.
“Are you guys okay?” Reza asks.
“Do I look okay?” I snap back.
“Jesus, Art, he’s not the enemy,” Judy says.
“Anyone who isn’t a friend is an enemy,” I say.
“I thought we were friends,” Reza says.
“No, we were just saying that to make Judy feel better. But it’s obvious we’re not. You didn’t show up to my meeting. You’re too scared to come close to me right now. You stood there while your brother’s buddy tried to kill me.”
“He’s not my brother,” Reza says. “And I didn’t cometo the meeting because I was...”
“Studying?” I ask.
He nods.
“You’re always studying when Judy hangs out with me. You’re always studying when we have movie nights. Not that I want you there. It’s our thing. It’s our tradition, like those fish pins are yours. You should never have been invited in the first place.”
“Art, come on,” Judy says.
“No, he’s scared of me. Of us. Look at him. He’s scared of getting too close.” I grab Judy’s hand and thrust it toward Reza. “Hey, your girlfriend has my blood on her fingers. You scared she has IT?”
“Art, stop!” Judy demands.
“Fine, I’ll stop,” I say. “I’m leaving.”
“Leaving where?” she asks. “It’s the middle of the day. We have class.”
“What are they gonna do, expel me?” I know I sound like an ass, but I don’t care. My wrath knows no boundaries right now. I want to lash out at everyone and everything that doesn’t understand me, at everyone and everything that isn’t queer, and yeah, maybe that even includes Judy. I want to erupt, to explode, and then to be reborn in a new world where I don’t have to feel different every day, a world where our blood is immune to infection.
I exit the school into the cold air, and it hits my face like a slap. The pain is still there, and as I walk the streets,I can feel people’s eyes on me. I walk. And I walk. And I walk. To the only place where I might possibly feel at home right now.
When he opens the door, he’s wearing one of his kimonos and he looks like he’s been sleeping and sweating. The concern in his eyes softens my anger. His hand on my face makes me cry. “What happened?” he asks.
“I...” But I can’t seem to get a word out. I just cry. He pulls me into his arms and closes the door behind us, and I sob onto his silk kimono, probably destroying it.
“Shh,” he says. “It’s okay.” He strokes my hair. I can feel the clamminess of his hands on my skin—he has a fever. He smells metallic from all the medication he takes. “It’ll all be okay,” he says.
“How can you say that?” I ask. “José is dead. Everyone who’s good in this world is dead or dying. The world is ending. Our world.”
He doesn’t say anything. He leads me to the couch and sits me down. He leaves for a moment, then returns with a warm, wet cloth and an ice pack. He holds the cloth to my face, carefully wiping the dried blood from my lips and my cheeks. Then he holds the ice to my lips. “You’ll be okay,” he says.
“Why am I so angry?” I ask. “What do I do with all this anger?”
“Not whatever you just did,” he says. “Whatdidyou do?”
