The Truth of Right Now Page 13

  “In Native American culture, it signals the beginning of hunting season. A time to start storing up for the coming winter. Wiccans call it the shedding moon because when it appears, the walls between worlds are the thinnest. Like you’re shedding one life for another. If you believe that junk.”

  “How do you know all this stuff, Dariomauritius?”

  He shrugs, his arms still around my midsection.

  “Useless information gets me off. Lilith.”

  We laugh and soak in the big, beautiful hunter’s moon or shedding moon or whatever the fuck it’s called. Nothing else, none of it—not that weird psychic reading, not vomiting at gay/goth karaoke, not being chased out of Bevvy Botswana’s show, not the photo, not stupid school, not Tara McKenzie, not Jackie, not Tracy, not Mom, not the summer, not the hospital, not even Mr. Wright . . . Bobby—none of it matters now. All that matters in the world is this moon. And Dari. And me.

  I hear a bit of the song that’s currently playing. It is “Evangeline” by the Cocteau Twins and I think I’m going to cry. It’s one of my favorite songs, and if I were programming the sound track to my life, this is the song I would play at this very second.

  “I love this song,” I breathe.

  “Wanna dance?” he says right behind my ear.

  “On the fire escape?”

  “Can you think of a better place?”

  No. I can’t.

  He gently spins me around and we awkwardly attempt to dance on the fire escape. Before long, we hear some loud creaking and wonder if maybe we should axe the dance party.

  As I’m giggling nervously, he kisses me. Just like that. It is not awkward. It is the truest kiss my lips have ever known. I feel his lips, his tongue, his skin in every pore. Everything. Everywhere. And now I do cry. Two single tears. He kisses my tears, and I laugh. This is a moment. I want to remember this moment. Every detail, every sense. It’s one of those moments in life that makes everything else worth it. One of those moments that feels like an eternity of bliss in one tiny bite of time. It’s one of those moments that falls from some heavenly plane to remind you that life can be wonderful.

  * * *

  Right before everything falls apart.

  PART 2

  IF WE WERE IN COLORADO

  Dari gives two bucks to the beggar on the corner. The guy smiles big and God-blesses him and tells him of his recent misfortune, which includes being thrown out of his aunt’s house on his birthday. Dari listens for a few seconds and then wishes him good luck. Usually, Dari pretends he doesn’t see the homeless. Not out of callousness (he hopes), but mainly as a defense; he’s seen them all through his childhood, and if he allowed his heart to bleed each time he’s accosted, his heart would be bloodless by now. But it’s a sweet Sunday evening, he’s in a nice mood, and he felt like putting someone else in a nice mood too.

  Lily is all right. Not his typical girl by any stretch, but he imagines he’s not her typical boy, either, considering the fact that he isn’t married with children. There’s just something about her. He doesn’t know what it is and doesn’t particularly care. It just seems like they fit. It has been a while since he’s felt that way.

  When he gets to his door, he takes a deep breath, searching for that ever-depleting well of patience within himself. No idea what tonight’s episode of Father Knows Best in Bizzarro World will bring.

  Strange. Dari squints his eyes. Did he just do that wrong? He tries again. Same thing. He tries a third time. He considers trying a fourth, though he knows that would be useless. His keys no longer work. His father has changed the locks. After the initial panic, Dari laughs. Really? You’re scared of ME?? He can’t believe it. He doesn’t know if he should feel terrified, ecstatic, or relieved. Anger wins the day.

  “Open the door,” Dari spits as he pounds on it.

  No footsteps.

  He pounds again, and again no one comes. He crams his ear up against it to see if he can hear activity inside. Nothing.

  He slides down the wall and sits there. He knows his father too well. This is a tactic. It’s psychological warfare. He wants to establish Dari’s dependence on him for his survival. Yes. That is what is happening. It’s ugly. He closes his eyes and remembers being small and fantasizing that his dad was Michael Bluth from Arrested Development. The fun kind of dysfunctional.

  He gets out his phone and starts to call Izzy, but stops himself. He can hear her sighing already, see her eyes getting red and glassy as she starts chain-smoking her Marlboros. He hates being a burden. Then there’s Trisha. Trisha, who has never said a kind word to Dari and blames him for Izzy’s permanent frown lines. He flips through his mental contact list for anyone who might owe him a favor, but honestly, there’s only one person he trusts right now. He sends a text.

  I hate to ask, but it’s kind of an emergency. Can I crash at your place tonight? Again?

  * * *

  Marcus barely looks up now when Dari enters the building. He starts to sign into the guest book, but the doorman just waves him on. Not out of friendliness so much as annoyance.

  Before he can knock, Lily opens the door.

  “What happened?”

  Dari hesitates. How much should he tell her?

  “He changed the locks. Guess this means he kicked me out.”

  Lily gasps. Still in gasp mode, she pulls Dari inside the apartment. Immediately, he sees the suitcase. Her mom’s home. This could be weird.

  “I don’t wanna get you in trouble,” Dari whispers.

  “Don’t worry. It’s fine.” But her face betrays her. She’s nervous. Dari cautiously sits on a chair near the door in case he needs to make a quick exit. Savannah enters from the hallway.

  “Hi, honey. What happened?” she asks.

  Dari looks at both Lily and Savannah, both staring down at him with the exact same expression. Big eyes full of concern. One set blue, one set brown, and for an eerie second he almost can’t tell them apart, they seem so alike. He tries to picture this scenario in reverse: What if Lily had been given the boot and she was sitting on his couch looking up at him and the old man? What a different situation that would be.

  “My dad and I don’t get along very well.”

  “I’ve heard.”

  “He changed the locks,” Dari mumbles. He feels embarrassed. Like his stupid family problems are now spreading to this family.

  “Jesus,” Savannah breathes. “Stay here. As long as you want.”

  “Thank you, but—”

  “No ‘buts.’ Your father, of course, can’t legally do that, but until we figure this out, you stay here as long as you need to.” Savannah smiles and gently touches Dari’s cheek.

  “Really?” Lily asks her mother, a bit surprised.

  “Of course.” Savannah rolls her suitcase into her bedroom. Lily sits next to Dari.

  “She’s never just invited someone to stay indefinitely. She seriously likes you,” Lily says, giving him a little nudge. Then she lays her head on his shoulder. “I don’t get your dad. I don’t understand how anyone could be mean to you,” she says quietly.

  They sit in silence for a few moments before Savannah reenters the room in pajamas: a pair of cotton plaid capris and an ancient “Free Mumia” T-shirt.

  “You know you can help yourself to anything around here. Don’t be shy with us,” Savannah assures him. He thanks her as she sits down on the end of the sofa under a lamp. Lily goes into the kitchen to find snacks. Savannah is most definitely a “cool mom” by anybody’s standards, but more than cool, she seems genuinely kind and genuinely interested in other people. And happy. Not a small thing in a world where more adults are on antidepressants than aren’t. (He has no data to back up this hypothesis, but he’s sure it’s true.) So it surprises him when he happens to glance over at her, leafing through a New Yorker with an expression on her face that is anything but happy. It’s somewhere between sadness and rage. Maybe her overly generous offer to him wasn’t so genuine after all.

  “Uh? Dari?” She
’s startled. So is Lily, who stands in the kitchen doorway frowning and shaking Skittles into her hand. He didn’t realize it, but he was staring at her mother for probably a good thirty seconds. Oh, God!

  “Um, I’m sorry. I was just . . . I wasn’t thinking. Spacing out,” he mumbles, edging himself closer to the door.

  “That’s okay.” Savannah looks uncomfortable and Dari feels like a creeper. “Did you guys have a nice weekend?” she asks.

  Lily and Dari both nod.

  “We had a blast,” Dari says shyly. Lily smiles, one of those smiles that holds all the warmth of the sun.

  “Good,” she says, and with that she opens a drawer in the coffee table and pulls out a cigar box.

  “Mom.”

  Savannah looks up at her daughter.

  “Lily.” She laughs a strange, exhausted laugh. “There really are worse things, and if we were in Colorado right now or Washington, this would not be the slightest issue.”

  “What’s the matter?” Dari asks.

  Savannah sighs. “Dari, do you mind if I smoke some cannabis? If you do, that is fine. I can go elsewhere.”

  For just a moment, Dari hears that lyric from Annie ringing in his ears: I think I’m gonna like it here!

  “No. I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all,” Dari answers, a bit too eagerly.

  Lily ducks back into the kitchen. As Savannah fills the paper with leaves and starts rolling the joint, Dari follows Lily. She crams her face with gummy worms.

  “Your mom is mad cool,” Dari whispers.

  Lily shakes her head. “She’s in some kinda mood. I don’t know. She almost never smokes anymore, especially in front of a guest. Can’t be good.” Lily continues stress-eating candy. Dari grabs a few.

  “All I know is I wish my dad was this cool.”

  “Cool. Right.” Lily tears open a box of Nerds and dumps them down her throat.

  “You eat a lot of candy,” Dari observes.

  Lily freezes midchew.

  “Just sometimes,” she admits, mouth full.

  “No judgment or anything. Do what you want.”

  “I just like candy. I dunno. I guess it’s more than that. Calms me down,” she says.

  “Yep. That’s why I can’t seem to quit smoking,” Dari commiserates.

  Lily turns on music and goes back into the living room. Dari wonders if he sounded too judgy about the candy. He certainly didn’t mean to imply that she should lose any weight. Lily has a nice shape. Actually, with just a few more pounds, she’d be a for-real smoke show. A modern-day Helen of Troy or some shit. Dari shakes himself out of that reverie and tries to focus on anything else.

  Savannah lights up and takes a luxurious inhalation. She holds on to it for as long as she can, and when she finally exhales, something releases. She’s lighter now. More present.

  “How was the retreat?” Dari asks.

  Savannah nods as she takes another hit and then blows smoke out through her lips. “Retreaty.”

  No one says anything for a moment after that. They just listen to the music. One of Lily’s hipster bands. Harlem. You know gentrification is deep when a garage rock band made up of three white boys is called “Harlem.” Dari shakes his head.

  “A woman asked me to clarify the statement about humility I’d made on page two-oh-three. I asked her if she could be more specific and she was shocked that I didn’t automatically know what she was talking about. I said, ‘Ma’am, I wrote the book over a decade ago. If I had those kind of memory powers, I could go on tour with David Blaine.’ She didn’t find it funny.”

  Dari laughs. Savannah smiles.

  “Used to be better. Years ago, when I first started doing these things. Conferences, retreats. People were just more open in general. Now? It’s different now. Now they want you to prove to them that you’re worth their time. They like to cross-examine you now.”

  “What’s changed?” Dari asks.

  “Hard to say. One thing is me, I guess. I get older every year, but my words never age.”

  Lily stares at her mother as though she wants to say something, but she doesn’t.

  “Also, just life changes. You get these ideas and think things are going to go a certain way and then they don’t.”

  “It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Lily asks.

  “Huh?”

  “If I were happy and normal, you might not have any doubts.”

  “Not true, my dear. And please cool it with the self-deprecating stuff. Look on the bright side for once. You got a cute bright side sitting right here in front of ya.”

  Whoa. Is she talking about me? Dari wonders if Lily’s thinking the same thing, because her jaw just dropped a bit.

  “Eh? Enough of this morose stuff. We should have a pleasant evening. Pretend we’re enlightened or whatever. Oh, but really, Dari, if the smoke bothers you, please let me know. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

  “No. Not at all. I . . .” Dari stops himself as he was perilously close to mentioning his own occasional herbal indulgences.

  “What were you gonna say?”

  “Nothing. Just believe me: I don’t mind. I really don’t mind.” Dari hopes his emphasis might convey his strong hankering to share Savannah’s treat. And for one magical moment, a slight sparkle in her eyes suggests to him that she just might permit this, but then a new song comes on, killing the magic.

  “Lily, I didn’t know you liked this song! This was my jam,” Savannah cries happily.

  “How appropriate,” Lily grumbles.

  Savannah stands, swaying to the music, and then she starts to sing. She knows every word.

  Breathe it in and breathe it out

  And pass it on, it’s almost out

  She laughs and takes another hit. “Oh, that takes me back. Lilith Fair 1998. That was such a good time. You know? I named her after that festival. That’s how much of a good time was had.” Savannah laughs.

  “All women performers, right?”

  “Mm-hmm. It was a special time. I can’t imagine something like that existing these days. Makes me sad.” Her face floats far away. Perhaps to the days of Lilith Fair, or her disappointment in today’s youth culture.

  Tentatively, Dari reaches his hand out to her.

  Savannah’s eyes widen in amused disbelief. “Oh! Uh-uh. No way!”

  “You said it yourself: It’s legal in two states. If we were currently in Colorado, would my age matter to you?” he asks, quite reasonably.

  “Yeah, I don’t think that would really change—”

  “If he smokes, I’m doing it too,” Lily informs her.

  Savannah laughs anxiously, shaking her head. “All right. I think that’s enough for one evening.” She extinguishes the j, which disappoints Dari, though he’s not that surprised. Everyone has a limit.

  But the damage is done. All of the people in this room are fairly toasted thanks to a little phenomenon known as the Contact High. This probably explains how Dari easily convinces them to play Pictionary. With three people. The compromise being that Dari must play on both teams.

  “Uhhh? Tree of Life? The Giving Tree?” Lily squints and tries to guess what Dari’s drawing in his sketchbook. The category is movies adapted from books. Lily has no idea what Dari’s drawing, and he can’t seem to help her. This is when he remembers that he actually sucks at Pictionary. He’s too single-minded. He gets an idea of what he wants to draw and then he just does it. If he likes his idea, he won’t scrap it to assist his guessing team partner. He’s more interested in seeing the drawing through to its conclusion. He’s also too detailed. Effective Pictionary sketches are simple. Not complex compositions done in forty-five seconds. But he can’t do anything about it. Even when he consciously tries to amend his game techniques, he consistently falls into the same patterns.

  “Time,” Savannah yells.

  “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” he sighs in frustration. He really thought she might be able to get this one. Other than the large, flawless Norway Maple he dr
ew at the center of the page, in the background is clearly a skeletal version of the Brooklyn Bridge.

  “My turn,” Savannah says with glee. She dips into their homemade clues and Dari slides over to her side of the room. Him moving back and forth between “teams” had made them all laugh at the beginning. He sees that it is now getting old.

  She looks at the scrap in her hand and cracks up. “Whoever did this is a mean person.”

  “Ready?” Lily asks.

  “I suppose so. The category is musicians.”

  “Go.” Lily starts her timer and Savannah just shakes her head in laughter.

  “Come on! Do something,” Dari pleads.

  Savannah struggles to draw a stick figure man holding a guitar. Dari guesses Hendrix, Page, Cobain, and then she starts making weird teeth and the lack thereof. She concentrates on this musician’s nightmare mouth. Dari runs out of guesses.

  “Time!”

  Savannah collapses in laughter. “Lily, you are in so much trouble,” she cries, trying to catch her breath.

  “What was that?”

  Lily smiles mischievously. “Eddie Van Halen.”

  “Who?” Dari asks. Savannah slowly calms down, wiping tears from her cheeks.

  “What’s up with his teeth?” Dari eyes them with horror and fascination.

  “I was trying to give him meth mouth,” Savannah explains.

  Lily laughs too, clearly proud of this curve ball. On their next turn, Lily draws for Dari. He gets it right away. The category was sixties bands and the clue was the Doors. Lily simply draws two doors. Easy.

  Now it’s Dari’s turn to draw for her mother. First, he stuffs a handful of popcorn in his mouth. (The munchies led them to make several batches of popcorn in a variety of flavors. The grossest by far is blue Jell-O, and yet this is what he chooses.) Lily gives him a few seconds to chew and then asks if they’re ready. Savannah giggles again and he says yes.

  Dari begins to draw something that looks like a wild animal. A cat. Quickly, it evolves into a beautiful cheetah. Then, out of nowhere, Savannah yells: “Of course. Mrs. Dalloway!” Dari throws down the pencil and high-fives Savannah.