Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World (Aristotle and Dante #2)(9)



“I love this tree,” she said.

I smiled. “So does Dante.”

“I don’t know why, but that doesn’t surprise me.” She touched the tree and whispered his name.

We started walking back toward her house. And suddenly, she took one of her shoes, which had been dangling from her left hand, and threw it as hard as she could. She laughed, and then took the other shoe and it landed right next to the first. “It’s not such a bad game that Dante invented.”

All I could do was smile.

Everything was so new. It felt as if I had just been born. This life that I was living now, it was like diving into an ocean when all I had known was a swimming pool. There were no storms in a swimming pool. Storms, they were born in the oceans of the world.

And then there was that cartographer thing. Mapping out a new world was complicated—because the map wasn’t just for me. It had to include people like Mrs. Quintana. And Mr. Quintana too. And my mom and dad, and Dante.

Dante.





Sixteen


I WAS WATCHING THE NEWS with my mom and dad. The daily report on the AIDS pandemic came on the screen. Thousands of people were marching through the streets of New York City. A sea of candles in the night. The camera focused on a woman who had tears in her eyes. And a younger woman carried a sign:

MY SON’S NAME WAS JOSHUA.

HE DIED IN THE HALLWAY OF A HOSPITAL.

A man, trying his best to keep his composure, was speaking into the microphone of a news reporter. “We don’t need health care in this country. Why have health care when we can just let people die?”

A group of people were carrying a banner that read: ONE AIDS DEATH EVERY 12 MINUTES.

And another carried a banner that read: IT’S NOT THAT WE HATE OUR COUNTRY—IT’S THAT OUR COUNTRY HATES US.

The camera moved away—and cut to the next story.

“Mom, when will it ever end?”

“I think most people think it will just disappear. It’s amazing the capacity we have to lie to ourselves.”





Seventeen


I WAS WATCHING DANTE SWIM. I thought of the day I met him. It was an accidental meeting, unplanned. I wasn’t the kind of guy who made plans. Things just happened. Or, really, nothing ever happened. Until I met Dante. It was a summer day just like today. Strangers meet strangers every day—and generally those strangers remain strangers. I thought of the sound of his voice the very first time I heard it. I didn’t know that voice was going to change my life. I thought he was only going to teach me how to swim in the waters of this swimming pool. Instead, he taught me how to dive into the waters of life.

I want to say the universe brought us together. And maybe it did. Maybe I just wanted to believe that. I didn’t know much about the universe or God. But I did know this: It was as if I’d known him all my life. Dante said he’d been waiting for me. Dante was a romantic, and I admired him for that. It’s as if he refused to let go of his innocence. But I wasn’t Dante.

I watched him—so graceful in the water. Like it was a kind of home for him. Maybe he loved the water as much as I loved the desert. I was happy just to sit on the side of the pool and watch him swim lap after lap. It was all so effortless for him. So many things were effortless for him. It was as if home was everywhere he went—except that he loved me. And that meant that maybe he’d never have a home ever again.

I felt a splash of water. “Hey! Where are you?”

“Here?” I said.

“You were in your head again.”

“I’m always in my head.”

“Sometimes I wish I knew everything you were thinking.”

“Not a good idea.”

He smiled and pulled me into the pool and we got into a splashing fight and we laughed and played at drowning each other. We swam and he taught me more things about swimming. I’d gotten better at the swimming thing. But I’d never be a real swimmer. Not that it mattered all that much to me. Just being in the water with him was enough. Sometimes I thought that Dante was the water.

I watched him as he climbed up the ladder and walked toward the edge of the diving board. He waved at me. He planted his feet firmly, then he went up on his toes—then he took a breath and he held this incredible look of serenity. He carried a certainty about himself that I had never had. And then calmly, fearlessly, he leapt up as if his arms were reaching for heaven, then reached downward, making a perfect arch, and twisted his body, a full circle, and then reached the water with hardly a splash. His perfect dive took my breath away.

I not only loved him. I admired him.



* * *



When we were walking home, Dante looked at me and said, “I quit the swimming team.”

“Why? That’s crazy.”

“It takes up too much time. They already started practicing, and I told the coach that I just didn’t want to be on the team anymore.”

“But why?”

“Like I said, it takes up too much time. And, anyway, I missed last year, so they really won’t miss me. And I’d have to try out again, anyway.”

“Like you wouldn’t make the team. Really?”

“And then there’s the small matter that I don’t really like a lot of guys on the team. They’re such assholes. They’re always talking about girls and saying stupid things about their tits. What is this thing about tits that so many guys have? I don’t like stupid people. So I just quit.”

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