Читать книгу The Shape Of My Heart - Ann Aguirre - Страница 11

Because you loved him.

As I put on the black dress again, I heard Max’s whisper again in my head. Eli was silent. I toweled my hair since the dryer wasn’t working, then I daubed on some make-up, subdued for the occasion. My hair looked strange, but I hadn’t packed any product, so I smoothed it down as best I could and clipped the over-long bangs out of my face with a plain barrette.

Max rapped on the door. “You about ready?”

“Just need to brush my teeth. Give me a sec.”

Hesitating afterward, I swung away from my reflection with a soft curse. I pulled a smile into place by the time I opened the door, so Max could shower. Doing him a favor, I hid the god-awful tie that looked like something my uncle Gilbert would wear and went into the other room to watch the small TV. Or pretend to, rather. The night before left me feeling strange and exposed. Can’t wait to get back to Michigan, back to normal. Where Max and I didn’t act bizarre and emotional around each other.

I heard him bang out of the bathroom and rummage around the bedroom for a few minutes. He came to the doorway, dress shirt unbuttoned and untucked; I felt bad because I totally scoped out his chest and abs before I caught myself. The dark, trailing ink of an intriguing tattoo curled over his ribcage and under the white fabric. Surprise flared when I realized I wouldn’t mind pulling his shirt all the way off and checking out his ink. That’s...inconvenient. Eyes up. Raising my brows, I pretended I didn’t know what his problem was.

“I can’t find my tie.”

“If you need one, we’ll stop somewhere on the way, okay? I’ll pick it out.” That was meant as both a bribe and a distraction.

“Okay. I think I saw a menswear shop not too far from the funeral home.”

Nodding, I grabbed my purse and followed him out of the small suite that belonged to us for the next couple of days. The bike was around back, so we went out that way, much less picturesque than the front, especially with the Dumpsters nearby, but since it hadn’t been stolen, I counted that a win. On the way, we stopped for fast-food breakfast sandwiches and ate them next to the motorcycle, which he parked in a metered spot outside the clothing store. Silently I dropped in a quarter, taking in his tiredness and the shadows beneath his eyes. The cheap safety razor did a piss-poor job on his dark scruff, so his face was patchy, particularly on his chin.

“Can’t take your eyes off me, huh? I get a lot of that.”

“I’m sure you do.” The circumstances made me gentle, but he surprised me by blushing.

“Okay, it freaks me out when you’re nice to me.”

“Can you put up with it for two more days?”

He smiled. “I’ll manage.”

Once we finished breakfast, I pushed into the cramped store to the jingle of customer-announcing bells. A gray-haired man came out of the backroom, wilting a little when he saw us. I guessed we didn’t look like big spenders, and since Max only needed a tie, his radar was working fine. But he still smiled, which spoke well of his customer service skills.

“Anything I can help you find?”

I shook my head, leading the way over to a small table with ties laid out in a fan. “Are there any colors you hate passionately?”

“Lime green.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you anyway.”

“How about this one?” Pulling a red, white, gray and black plaid one out of the pile, I held it up against his white shirt. Since he was wearing plain gray trousers, I thought it worked.

Max didn’t look too sure. “Isn’t it a little...”

“What?”

“Burberry. You know, designer-asshole-looking.”

“This isn’t the same pattern, but if you don’t like it—”

“Do you?”

“What?”

“Like it.”

I smirked up at him. “Well, the one you had on before was a pimp-city special. The only way it could’ve been worse is if it had palm trees and glitter.”

“Fine, I’ll take this one. Obviously I have bad taste in dress clothes.” From his sulky tone, he thought his old tie was awesome.

“Jackets are sixty percent off,” the salesman tried. “With your build, I have plenty of blazers that would look great on you.”

To my surprise, Max turned to me with a half frown. “Do you think I should I get one?”

“Do you trust me to dress you?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

So I plucked a black blazer off the rack in his size, along with a thin cloud-gray sweater-vest. “Put it all on, including the tie.”

He scowled, but he didn’t protest, though I had to adjust the vest, unfastening the bottom button to show off his belt. Max fumbled at the tie until I took over, remembering with a knot in my throat how I used to do this for Eli, too. When Max shrugged into the jacket, the transformation amazed me.

“You’re staring. Is it that bad?” Whirling, he studied himself in the mirror. “Holy shit.”

“You look like you’re about to have your picture shot for a men’s magazine.” No question, he had the lean build they preferred.

“I’d rather someone actually shot me.” But as Max’s dark gaze met mine in the mirror, a tiny smile curved his mouth. “Thanks. I want to look nice today. Prove everybody wrong.”

“Both the blazer and vest are on sale,” the salesman said. “The tie isn’t.”

“We’ll take all three. Can you cut the tags off before he comes up with a reason why not? He’ll wear the clothes out.”

Max grumbled as he followed me to the register. While the guy rang things up, I sent him off on a fool’s errand to look at handkerchiefs so I could ninja-pay. By the time he got back, I was already signing the receipt. His brows shot up.

“What the hell, Kaufman.”

“There’s no time to argue. The service starts in ten minutes.”

As expected, that motivated him; he rushed out of the shop and was starting the bike by the time I hopped on behind him. Wrapping my arms about his waist, I settled in, leaning my cheek against his back. Though I’d never admit it, this was the best part of the trip. I loved holding on to him, his stomach hot and taut beneath my curled fingers. Just out of the shower, Max smelled soapy clean, overlaid by the new smell of his jacket.

The funeral home was only five minutes away, and he parked close to the building. I suspected I hadn’t heard the last of this impulse-shopping spree, but Max had the sense to defer it. We slipped into the chapel as the minister walked slowly toward the podium at the front, pressing hands and smiling at familiar faces. I sat down in the back, expecting Max would join his family up front. Instead he nudged me to move over, granting him the chair on the aisle.

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but the ceremony was sedate. The minister gave a touching talk about meeting in the next life; there were three musical interludes and a very old man went to the microphone on a walker to talk about Max’s granddad. A few people sniffled but nobody cried. That seemed like the watermark of how nice you were in life. If people seemed okay with your passing, then you probably had some karmic restitution coming. Well, provided that the Hindus were right about reincarnation. Eli was a good guy. He might be somebody’s beloved new baby by now. How I wished I believed that. Certainty would be comforting.

While I was thinking about how awesome it would be to come back as a house cat, the service ended. Everyone filed up to say farewell, but I hung back. Max nodded, probably not understanding my hesitance, but he was good at picking up cues. Michael was one of the first through the line, and I smiled when he rolled toward me.

“Hey. Sorry about last night. I was really rude.”

“You and Max have some stuff to work out. I get it.”

“We do. But you and I don’t.” Okay, I definitely wasn’t imagining the flirty grin; I’d watched Max unleash it to devastating effect all through college. “You said you’re not his girlfriend, right?”

“We’re roommates, actually. You should come visit sometime.” After I said it, I realized we were on the second floor, and Michael seemed fiercely independent.

“Are you from Michigan originally?”

“Chicago. It was quite a culture shock. I didn’t even drive when I graduated.” The L took me everywhere I wanted to go since I had no reason to venture into the ’burbs.

“And that was when?”

“Are you seriously asking how old I am?” Reluctant amusement sparked a smile, one that Michael returned with interest.

“I’m curious. Sue me.”

“Twenty-one. If things go well, I’ll graduate this year.”

“Yet you don’t sound excited.”

“Eh, I’m a business major. It’s not the employer catnip that it used to be, so I’m not looking forward to working at Starbucks. And, wow, you’re good at this.”

“What?” He opened his eyes, innocent, but I wasn’t buying it.

“Charming information out of people.”

“You think I’m charming?”

Max joined us in time to hear the question. “Are you hitting on my brother again?”

Smart not to call him “little.” You’re learning.

“I’m just laying the groundwork, so he’ll remember me fondly when he’s legal and I’m the antisocial cat lady living in your basement.”

Michael answered before Max could. “I think you’re shooting too low. You could totally swing ground-floor accommodations if you lean in.”

Since I only knew about that book because of a sitcom and Google, I had to give him a fist bump for that one. “I’ll try not to let you down.”

“You want to ride with me to the cemetery? Dad’s going with Uncle Lou.” The offer included both of us, so I glanced at Max.

Ah, the mysterious uncle I didn’t meet last night.

“Yeah. If you’re sure it’s okay.” The hesitation in Max’s tone broke my heart because I knew exactly how long he rolled around last night, memories chewing him up from the inside.

“I’d rather not go alone.” Michael spun around and headed for the exit.

Up front, the casket was being removed out the side door, but we didn’t stick around to watch it happen. Michael opened the rear doors and unfolded the ramp, then wheeled up to the driver’s seat. Max and I hopped in, then pulled it up after us and closed up. I sat in back, leaving the front to the brothers. They talked quietly during the ride, and I tried not to eavesdrop.

Max, you should tell him.

The drive took almost forty minutes, and I texted with Nadia most of that time.

So Angus tells me you ran off with Max.

Yeah, we figured we’d get our first trial marriage out of the way early.

You realize I’m completely helpless without emoticons. You might be in Vegas right now!

I’ll explain later. Everything’s okay.

She texted me three more times but I ignored those. Max finally glanced over his shoulder. “Who’s beeping you so hard, Kaufman?”

“Some things are just too private to share,” I teased.

“Are you sexting?” He lunged for my phone.

To keep the joke going longer, I shoved it down the front of my dress and smirked at him, brows up. “How bad do you want to know?”

For two heartbeats, he considered going in. But then he mumbled something unintelligible and turned around.

Michael checked the rearview as I fished my cell out of my cleavage, then offered, “I could find out for you, bro.”

Before things could get weird, I said, “I’m not sexting, it’s Nadia. She just wanted to know what’s going on with us.”

“Ah. Tell her I said hey.”

“Who’s Nadia?” Michael asked.

I told him about her, along with Angus, a rambling monologue punctuated by occasional remarks from Max. By the time I finished, the convoy reached the cemetery, well outside the city limits. The trees were probably gorgeous in fall, but it was pretty in late summer, too, green and well-kept. But it was hard to follow Max up the path, harder to see Michael struggle and know it would only piss him off if I offered to help. From this distance, I could see the tent, the coffin on burial scaffolding, a hole in the ground, the folding chairs set up on outdoor carpeting. They’d moved all the flowers from the funeral home, arrayed them around the coffin, so the breeze hit me in the face with the scent of sweet decay.

We were among the last to arrive, and this time Michael hung back with us. The funerary rites were mercifully brief; since the weather was muggy, hot and overcast, I’d have hated standing there for an hour. The wind died down, hinting at the prospect of a storm after nightfall. Maybe it would clear the air. One way or another we could use it.

They lowered the coffin and Carol tossed a flower into the grave. As people started to leave, I shifted, wondering if I should suggest...something. But really, Max needed to take the reins and sort out his family business without my intervention. So I kept quiet.

“What’re you doing now?” he asked his brother.

“There’s a potluck at the house,” Michael said. “If you want to come.”

His first reaction came in the form of leaping pleasure shining in his dark eyes, quickly dulled to uncertainty. “I don’t know if—”

“It’s not at Pop’s, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve been living with Uncle Lou for the past four years.” Though his tone was offhand, I sensed there was a boatload of a story behind that decision.

“Four years...” Max wore a stunned expression, so much that I put my hand on his arm, steadying him. “All this time, I thought I couldn’t talk to you, see you. Not even to apologize.”

“What?” Michael stared at him, equally flummoxed.

Tell him, I ordered with my eyes. In their shoes, I would’ve had this talk last night, but no, they only blabbed about the bike, apparently. This offer felt akin to falling on a grenade—I disliked their dad that much—but they needed some privacy.

“I’ll get a ride with your uncle,” I said. “Catch you later, Max.”

Before he could argue, I hurried across the grass toward Mr. Cooper’s retreating back. The man beside him must be Uncle Lou; he was both shorter and wider. I caught up with them, out of breath, and nearly tripped over a headstone. Uncle Lou had a kind, jowly face with deep-set eyes with pouches under them. His nose was bulbous, but I could practically taste the kindness in him. He was also older than I’d expected, probably Max and Michael’s great-uncle. Which made the deceased granddad his brother.

“Can I beg a lift? Max and Michael need some time.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Normally it pissed me off when men immediately defaulted to endearments; with Uncle Lou I didn’t mind. I’d probably even eat a butterscotch if he fished one out of his pocket.

“You go to school with Maxie, do you?”

If anybody heard that nickname when he was a kid, ten to one they called him Maxipad.

I was basically ignoring Mr. Cooper at this point, and he seemed to be returning the favor, walking a bit ahead. So I yielded to the urge to brag about Max. “Yeah. He’s doing really well in engineering, works part-time at a garage on weekends. It’s amazing what he’s achieved completely on his own.”

Mr. Cooper’s shoulders squared. Yeah, I hope you’re listening, asshole. Suck on that.

“I’m so proud of him. Carol tells us what he emails to her, but he has the idea nobody in the family wants to hear from him because of what happened to Mickey. And the nonsense Charlie spouted right after the accident, of course.” Uncle Lou sighed. “But I’m sure you know how stubborn Maxie can be. He gets an idea lodged in his head and nothing short of an earthquake can shake it out.”

“He still blames himself,” I ventured quietly.

“None of us do. I slammed into a parked car once because I dropped a sandwich. Now, that’s stupid. I can only imagine how I’d feel if somebody got hurt.”

Mr. Cooper picked up the pace, probably trying to get out of earshot. I watched him go, wondering how he lived with himself. He’d kicked one son out and then couldn’t look after Michael after he got out of the hospital, just went on drinking like it was his reason for living. The whole situation made me angrier than I could recall being in my whole life.

Uncle Lou studied my face with the air of an adorable, aging basset hound. “It’s a mess, no two ways around it. But I hope we can clear up the misunderstanding while Maxie’s here.”

“I hope so, too.” We were nearly to the car when I gave up and asked the nosiest question of my life. “What, exactly, did Max’s dad say that night at the hospital? I know Max left home right after, but—”

“Honey, I think you already know this, but...that story should come from Max. And it’d do him good to get it off his chest. When he’s ready, he’ll tell you himself.”

Maybe, I thought.

And the prospect blazed through me in a shower of joy.