Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World (Aristotle and Dante #2)(6)

Dante’s father just shook his head. “Dante, do you really believe all the things you say?”

“I think so. Yes.”

“I was afraid of that.”

Mr. Quintana and Dante kept playing their game of verbal chess, and I just stood there and watched them. I couldn’t help but notice that Mrs. Quintana was beginning to look very pregnant. Well, maybe not very. But, you know, pregnant. What a strange word. Maybe there should be a more beautiful word for a woman who was going to have a baby. When they settled down, Mrs. Quintana looked at me and asked, “How was the movie?”

“It was really good. I think you’d like it.”

Mr. Quintana squeezed Mrs. Quintana’s hand. “Soledad doesn’t like to go to movies. She’d rather work.”

She gave her husband one of her smirks. “That’s not true,” she said. “It’s just that I’d rather read a book.”

“Yeah. Preferably a book on the latest theories of human psychological development—or the latest theories of how behavioral changes really happen.”

She laughed. “Do you find me criticizing your tastes in postmodern poetry?”

I liked how they got along. They had a nice easy way of playing with each other that was really sweet. There was so much affection in Dante’s household. Maybe Mrs. Quintana was harder than Mr. Quintana. But she was nice. She was tough and she was nice.

Dante looked at his mother. “Have you thought of a name yet?”

“Not yet, Dante.” The way she said it was as if she was both annoyed and amused by Dante’s new hobby. “We still have four months to decide.”

“It’s gonna be a boy, you know.”

“I don’t care. A boy. A girl.” She looked at Mr. Quintana. “No offense, but I hope the baby turns out to be more like the mother.”

Mr. Quintana looked at her. “Really?”

“Don’t give me that Really? thing, Sam. I’m outnumbered. Dante takes after you. I live with two boys. We need another adult in this family.”

That made me smile. That really made me smile.



* * *



“You wanna hear the list I have?”

“List?”

“You know, the names I’ve picked out for my baby brother.” He was lying on his bed, and I was sitting on his chair. He was studying me. “You’re laughing at me.”

“No, I’m not. Do you hear me laughing?”

“You’re laughing on the inside. I can tell.”

“Yeah, I’m laughing on the inside. You’re relentless.”

“I taught you that word.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“And now you’re using it against me.”

“Looks that way.” I shot him a look. “Don’t your parents get a say in this?”

“Not if I can help it.”

He walked up to his desk and took out a yellow legal pad. He threw himself back on the bed. “These are the names I have so far: Rafael—”

“Nice.”

“Michelangelo.”

“That’s nuts!”

“This from a boy named Aristotle.”

“Shut up.”

“I don’t do ‘shut up.’?”

“Like I hadn’t noticed.”

“Ari, are you gonna hear me out? Or are you gonna editorialize?”

“I thought this was a conversation. You always tell me I don’t know how to talk. So I’m talking. But I’ll shut up. Unlike you, I know how to do that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said.

“Look, just listen to the list, and then you can throw in your irony and sarcasm after I’m done.”

“I don’t do irony.”

“Like hell you don’t.”

God, I wanted to kiss him. And kiss him and kiss him and kiss him. I was going fucking nuts. Did people lose their minds when they loved someone? Who was I? I didn’t know myself anymore. Shit.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll shut up. Read the list.”

“Octavio. Javier. Juan Carlos. Oliver. Felipe or Philip. Constantine. Cesar. Nicholas. Benjamin. Not Ben, but Benjamin. Adam. Santiago. Joaquin. Francis. Noel. Edgar. That’s what I have so far. I’ve eliminated all the ordinary names.”

“Ordinary names?”

“John, Joe, Michael, Edward, etc. What do you think?”

“You do know a lot of those names sound very Mexican.”

“What’s your point?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Look, Ari, I want him to be Mexican. I want him to be all the things that I’m not. I want him to know Spanish. I want him to be good at math.”

“And you want him to be straight.”

“Yes,” he whispered. I couldn’t stand to see the tears running down his face. “Yes, Ari, I want him to be straight.” He sat up on his bed, covered his face with his hands—and cried. Dante and tears.

I sat next to him and pulled him close to me. I didn’t say anything.

I just let him sob into my shoulder.





Eleven


ALL NIGHT I DREAMED OF Dante. Of him and me.