A Little Too Much

Chapter Seventeen

I CALL JESS on the way to Alessandro’s the next morning. “Hey, sweetie,” I say when she picks up. “You’ve got an admirer.”

“If it’s that guy you were dancing with at Sixty-nine, I might be interested,” she sings.

“You’re gay, Jess.”

“Yeah, well . . . so who?”

“Remember Hailey, from my audition?”

“Oh, my God! Did you get the part?”

“Um . . . no.”

There’s a long silence. “You’re joking, right?”

“Tragically, no. Bambi got it.”

“Bambi!”

I have to pull the phone away from my ear at her screech. “That’s what Hailey said . . . which is really why I called.”

There’s a pause, then a confused, “What?”

“You know the girl I read with at that audition?”

“Oh, yeah. The cute blonde. What about her?”

“I think she’s crushing on you, Jess. She wanted your number.”

“Seriously?” The curious lilt to her voice tells me she’s not disgusted by the idea, which is good.

“Yeah. So if you’re okay with calling her, I’ll text you her number.”

“Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

“And she’s setting me up with an agent, Jess, so try not to break her heart right away, ’kay?” She laughs and I can’t help but smile. “Texting you now. Tell me how it goes.”

“Great. Oh! If you hear of anyone who needs a roommate, mine’s moving out on the first.”

“I’ll keep my ears open, sweetie,” I tell her. “Talk soon.”

When I get to Alessandro’s apartment at 11:15, I ring the bell, and when he buzzes the door to let me in, I tell him to meet me downstairs.

I’m in warm-ups and a T-shirt under my jacket, and when the elevator door opens, and Alessandro steps out, I see he’s in the same.

“You didn’t want to come up for tea first?” he asks.

“No. Thanks.” I know I should just tell him now, but he’s planned something and I know how excited he gets about it. I’d feel worse than I already do if I ruined it for him.

He nods. “We only have a few minutes before we should go anyway. Can’t hurt to be a little early.”

I keep my distance as we walk to the subway, staying far enough away that he doesn’t try to put his arm around me.

“How has your week been?” he asks, and I can tell by the caution in his voice that he knows something’s up.

“Fine.”

I feel the weight of his gaze grow heavier. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

“Fine,” he repeats slowly, as if turning the word over in his mind and examining it from all angles.

“Fine,” I say, and try to sound light.

We turn the corner and start down the subway stairs.

“Is it something I’ve done?”

I shoot him an annoyed glance. “No, Alessandro. It’s nothing you’ve done.”

“Then it is something.” It’s not a question.

I spin on him where we stand at the bottom of the stairs. “Why do you want to do this now?”

He gazes into my eyes for a long heartbeat before answering. “Because the fact there’s something to ‘do’ means you’re upset. If you’re upset, I want to know why. Especially if it’s me who’s upset you.”

I take a deep breath and try to remember that I’m the problem here, not Alessandro. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

I wave a hand in a circle between us. “Whatever we’re doing. I can’t spend time with you anymore.”

His lips press into a line and he nods. “I know.”

That is so not the answer I was expecting. “What do you mean, you know?”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and twitches a grimace. “I’ve always known you and I spending time together was a bad idea. I just . . .” The misery in those amazing charcoal eyes as he trails off is almost enough to make me change my mind. “I’m so glad you’ve let me know you for these past few months. It’s helped me more than you can ever know to see how well you’re doing. You’re an incredibly strong woman—beautiful and intelligent . . . you’re everything I hoped I’d find when I came looking for you.” He lowers his gaze. “But you’re right. You shouldn’t . . .” He shakes his head. “You’re right.”

“Good . . . so, yeah.” It was just guilt. That’s all this was to him—just a big pity parade. I was stupid to think he might be feeling any of the things I was feeling—that he’d be upset when I told him we can’t spend time together. He came, he saw, and I’m sure he’s been ready to bail for a while. He’s probably relieved.

“Come on,” he says, taking my elbow and guiding me toward the northbound platform. “I’ll see you to your train.”

We get to the platform just as a train is pulling in. The doors open and I step through. When I turn, Alessandro is still on the platform. “Where were we going, anyway?”

But the doors whoosh shut before he can answer.

We stare at each other through the glass for another beat of my dying heart, then the train glides out of the station. As soon as it hits the tunnel, tears are tracking down my face, but I choke them back. This is how it has to happen. It’s the only way to keep my secrets safe.

WHEN I FINALLY pull myself out of bed at noon, I realize it’s Thursday. I’ve survived a week without Alessandro, but today is our day. I drag myself through the shower and get dressed. Then, to stop myself from missing him, I call Jess.

“Hey!” she says when she picks up.

“Hey. I was thinking of doing a little Christmas shopping. You in?”

“Def! When?”

“Now, if you’re ready.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

I think about who I have to buy for. “I don’t know. Macy’s maybe?”

“We’ll get better deals at Century Twenty-one. Meet me there in an hour?”

Century 21 is just a few blocks from the World Trade Center memorial. I’ve avoided it for no reason in particular, but suddenly, I feel the overwhelming urge to see it. “Have you ever been to the WTC memorial?”

“Sure. A couple of times.”

“Do you mind going back? I’d like to see it.”

“You’ve never been?” she says, surprised.

“No, but I’m feeling like I should go, you know?” I haven’t seen Alessandro since I left him standing on the subway platform a week ago. I can’t see him again. I don’t know if that’s what’s behind the sudden compulsion—that it’s a way to feel connected to him without actually being with him—but I feel drawn to see it.

“Yeah, sure. We can do that first, if you want. I’ll meet you at the corner of Church and Vesey? We can walk over.”

“Thanks, Jess. See you in an hour.”

JESS IS ALREADY there, leaning on the wall near the post-office entrance of the Federal Building, when I walk up to the corner. She takes one look at me and the smile falls off her face. “What happened?” she asks, pulling me into a hug.

I hug her back, way longer than I normally would. “What didn’t happen would be easier to answer.”

“Is it the part? It sucks, Hil, but you’ll get the next one. I just know it.”

I let her go and start toward where the throngs of people are disappearing around the corner toward the site of the old World Trade Center buildings. The sidewalk is lined on the left with chain-link fencing hung with blue tarps, and behind it, the endless construction continues. “It’s the part, but other stuff too.”

“So start with the big stuff and we’ll work our way down,” she says, looping her arm through mine.

“My mom has cancer.”

“Holy shit, Hilary. You weren’t kidding.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“How is she?”

“I have no clue because she won’t talk to me. I’ve called every day since I found out three weeks ago and she won’t take my calls. They tell me not to bother making the trip again because she’s refusing to see me.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what I did to piss her off.”

“Jesus,” she says, hanging her head. “That’s rough.”

Some asshole walking backward with a camera slams into me, nearly knocking me over. When I get my balance, I shove him back. “Watch it.”

He glares over his shoulder at me. “Screw you.”

“Back at ya, asshole.”

Jess tugs me away before I take a swing at the guy. “Karma will take care of people like that,” she tells me.

And then I look up and see where we are.

In front of me is the block where the World Trade Center buildings stood before the attack. It’s now a cobbled park with two giant reflecting pools where the bases of the buildings use to be. We move closer and it becomes noticeably more hushed, the cacophony of chattering tourists dropping to a rustling of whispers. The reverence is clear in the face of everyone around us. Inside me, everything shifts, and I feel the sudden urge to go back and apologize to the guy with the camera.

“Can you feel the energy here?” Jess whispers. “It’s different than anywhere else in the city.”

And for once, I think I kind of get her, because it does feel different.

Out of the total blue, a huge knot of grief forms in my chest and tears spring up behind my eyes. And the image that accompanies those feelings is a beautiful sixteen-year-old boy without a father.

I heard the sirens. I felt the city scream. What happened that day changed everyone. But Alessandro’s father died here, and his life changed in ways I can’t even imagine.

I move to the edge of the enormous pool where the north tower used to be and walk around the edge, scanning each name engraved into the side and looking for one with the last name Moretti. I find it halfway around the second side. Lorenzo Moretti. So, Lorenzo was a junior. I lean into the edge and trace my fingers over his engraved name, sniffling into the sleeve of my jacket.

He was assistant chef at Windows on the World, at the top of the north tower. He walked with Lorenzo and me to the subway when we left for school that morning, and that was the last we ever saw of him.

Tears come harder at the memory of Alessandro’s words—at the memory of the haunted look in his eyes as he said them. I imagine him here, standing just where I am as an adult, finally grieving his dead father.

Ghosts.

Jess steps up next to me and lays a hand on my back. We just stand here for what feels like a really long time as I imagine Alessandro’s family before. Two parents. Lorenzo, the troublemaker. And Alessandro, the adoring little brother.

I remember how he was when I knew him . . . always trying to sort through his feelings. Trying to make sense of the world and all the shitty things that happen in it—trying to make sense of why his father died, and why his mother left him.

That was his way of trying to stay sane in an insane world.

Finally, when I feel the knot in my chest start to ease, I scrub my sleeve across my face and back away from the pool.

“You okay?” Jess asks.

I nod and we head back the way we came.

I come away from the Century 21 two hours later with a bottle of Brett’s aftershave, a scarf and some gloves for Mallory, a graphic T-shirt for Jeff, a new Lego set for Henri, and finger paints for Max, because Mallory mentioned his physical therapist said tactile things would help his sensory integration, what ever that means. I couldn’t find anything that I thought they’d let Mom have in prison.

“So, we only got to number one on your list earlier,” Jess says as we trudge back to the subway. “What else?”

We start down the stairs into the subway. “There’s a guy.”

She glances at me as we reach the bottom. “Other than Brett?”

I nod.

“The one you were dancing with at Club Sixty-nine? Because I’ve gotta tell you, that guy made me question my sexual preference.”

“I don’t really know what’s going on with us. I mean, I’m with Brett, and I’m not looking for anyone else, but . . .” I hang my head.

“You just met him, right? He’s got that dark, mysterious thing happening. It’s hotter than hell, but as soon as you get to know him, you’ll find out he wets the bed and still lives with his mommy or something. Not that I’m a big fan of Brett’s, but the grass is always greener, Hil.”

We slide our MetroCards and walk through the gates.

“I didn’t just meet him. I’ve known him forever.”

She shoots me a glance as we weave through the crowd to the platform. “How long is forever?”

“We were in a group home together when I was fourteen.”

We find a spot on the platform and I can feel her eyes boring into me. “There’s more to that story.”

I hang my head and grab a handful of my kinks. “I was in love with him back then.” And maybe still am. “We kind of had a thing.”

“A thing?” She leans closer and asks, “Did you hand him your V card?”

“No. I handed it to his brother.”

She doesn’t say anything, and when I look up at her, she’s just staring at me. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with both of them.”

“I slept with both of them.”

She breathes deep. “And now?”

“We do things together, and . . .” I shake my head. “I just like spending time with him, you know? He’s interesting and different and . . .” I shake my head again. “I don’t know.”

She tucks her bags behind her legs and leans back into the wall. “So this guy just showed back up out of nowhere.”

I nod. “But I told him I can’t see him anymore.”

“Because of Brett?”

My stomach knots. I really want to tell her everything—the real reason I can’t be with Alessandro, but I made a promise. “Because of a lot of things.”

She looks at me for a few seconds, like she’s going to push for details, but then she shakes her head. “When it rains, it pours.”

“Tell me about it.”

When I get back to the apartment, I go to the bedroom and wrap all my Christmas gifts. Then, since we have no tree to put them under, I stuff everything back in the bag and stick it in the closet. The gift I already bought for Alessandro is there, in the corner. I pull it out and turn it in my hand. The tube is wrapped in green paper and has a red bow tied around it. And in the middle of the bow is my cockroach.

I put it back and close the door. Brett will be home in a few days. Things will be easier then. Maybe I haven’t given him enough credit—taken our relationship seriously enough. Maybe we can be more than just roommates with benefits.

He’s uncomplicated. He’s predictable. He’s easy. And he’s not Alessandro.

He’s everything I need.

He’s all I need.