“So, Mason,” Dan was saying as they were sweeping up the garage, “How is Savannah doing?”

“She’s good.”

“She’s not still with that Bobby guy, is she?”

“No.”

“Good, he was an asshole.”

Dan stopped and struck a pose, rubbing his chin.

“So... if I gave her a call?”

“Uh…”

“Uh… what?”

Mason looked for a way to phrase this.

“You could call her,” he said, at last. “You could totally, completely call her and she would be glad to see you.”

“But she’s with someone?” Dan realized.

Mason nodded painfully:

“For about a year and a half now.”

 

“So, Genoa is,” Balliol guessed, “out past Ogden?”

“Actually it’s south of Ogden,” Matt said. “You know. You’d go west to Ogden, but you’d turn on Old Route 20 and go south to get toward Genoa.”

“That is,” Tommy noted, “if you were going to Genoa from Ogden.”

“Right, but for us we just get on the expressway and then hit the Anthony Wayne east of downtown.”

Balliol shook his head and looked at Sully, “Directions make my head hurt.”

“Learning directions is practical, Bailey,” Matt told him.

“Hiring someone who knows directions is practical,” Bailey amended, and lit a cigarette.

 

 

Dan Mitchum was ten years old when his sister married Sidney Darrow in Saint Patrick’s Church. When he saw them, kneeling at the altar, rising out of the white clouds of incense as the priest circled them with the censer, he looked across the aisle at the one girl in Sidney’s family, the girl he’d seen several times, and he fantasized about kneeling at that altar with her, having the priest trace the sign of the of the cross over them.

            After the marriage all of his sister’s friends surrounded her, and Sidney, like a brother, introduced him to all of his friends, but Dan had eyes for the girl, for Sidney’s sister.

            “My name’s Savannah.”

            “That’s a… interesting name.”

            “I think it’s a beautiful name.”

            In his little tuxedo, Dan shrugged.

            “It’s better than Dan.”

            “I guess,” Dan told her. “Dan isn’t really a name anyway.”

            “How is it not a name.”

            Dan screwed his face up. “I mean it’s not that sort of name that you can say it’s good or its bad.”

            “But my name?”

            “It’s a… It’s a name you can talk about.”

            She was wearing a satiny purple bridesmaid dress. The kind of dress a girl would only wear at a wedding, and she had very large brown eyes that Dan couldn’t stop looking at.

            “Are you really Keisha’s brother?”

            “Yes!”

            “You don’t look—”

            “I know that. You’ve seen my dad. You’ve seen my mom.”

            “You didn’t have to shout.”

            “I’m not shouting!”

            Savannah frowned.

            “I’m shouting, aren’t I?”

            “Not anymore.”

            Dan started laughing and put his h ands over his face.

            Savannah moved his hands and looked at him.

            “You know what?” she said.

            “Hum?”

            “You’re cute.”

            Dan turned red and then turned and started to run away before he caught himself.

            He turned around and looked at her.

            “Boys are weird,” Savannah stated.

            “I guess,” Dan shrugged and agreed. They must have been. He was weird for trying to run away from her.

            “I was going to say,” he murmured. “That you’re very pretty.”

 

One day in Savannah Darrow’s freshman year at Magdalene she had a harder time concentrating than usual. The night before, Dan had been sent up to visit Keisha. He was her best friend, more than her best friend. Her heart thumped whenever she heard him. Things happened to her these days when she thought about him.

            She was at lunch sitting out on the campus with her girlfriends when a red Mustang swung up and she heard a voice shouting to her.

            Savannah ran to the car and shouted in surprise.

            “Stop that!” Dan laughed. “Get in the car!”

            Savannah looked back at her friends in their navy skirts and white blouses. They’re hands were to their mouths. She looked back at Dan.

            “Get in!” he told her, his blue eyes blazing.

            Dan Mitchum had commanded her. She couldn’t resist.

           

           
            “Where did you get this car?” she demanded as they sped down Bancroft. “How did you get this car?”

            “I stole it,” Dan took a cigarette out of his breast pocket and handed it to her.

            “When did you learn to drive?”

            “Today,” he said, smiling brightly, and lit her cigarette before lighting his.

            “But… you’re fourteen!”

            “No, I’m not,” Dan reminded her. “You always forget… I’m thirteen.”

            And then Savannah just burst our laughing.

            “We’ll return it,” Dan said, his voice suddenly tender. “I’d never just keep someone’s car for good. Plus… those people looked really rich.”

            “You’re too much,” she declared.

 

            They dropped the car off three blocks from Sidney and Keisha’s house. They left it under the thick green branches of an elm tree and spent a half hour wiping away their fingerprints. Their fingers touched again and again and  once, while Savannah was wiping her door handle, Dan tugged on her hand. She looked at him.

            And that’s when he kissed her.

 

Adam Bannerjee had been kissing her up and down in the coach house. She had convinced him to move in. He didn’t know why he hadn’t done it before. It wasn’t as if he’d refused her. It was just he hadn’t really thought about it, thought about him and her living in the same place. Adam came to her house on the giant tricycle he believed in because he didn’t want gas and fumes to destroy the environment, because he didn’t believe in auto insurance. That was just too much . He was just too strange to take seriously. Living with him would be taking him seriously. But when she had asked him today, he had said yes and he had kissed her deeply and hadn’t stopped kissing her all afternoon.

            Savannah Darrow was meditating on Adam Bannerjee. He was every race but Black. She heard the shower water running, him humming. He’d be turning thirty in a few months. He was a good man. She felt safe and not that old kind of safe in his arms. That old kind of safe was a settled, mundane safe, a safe that kept her from flying away. This safe was a safe she could feel free with. Everything has a sort of completion right now and she hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

            While she was making the bed she was thinking about the way his brow knit when he was lost in thought, how his hair spiked no matter how he tried to comb it down, the shadow of beard on his face, the length of his body draped over her, the faint smell of that cologne his sister bought that was in his shirts and all the while he was singing in the shower:

 

Like anyone would be

I am flattered by your fascination with me

Like any hot-blooded woman

I have simply wanted an object to crave

But you, you're not allowed

You're uninvited

An unfortunate slight!

 

 

And then there was a knocking at the door. There’d been a rapping for a long time but she hadn’t been paying attention. She’d been lost in reflection. Savannah shook herself and went to answer, surprised to see:

            “Mason!”

 

Must be strangely exciting

To watch the stoic squirm

Must be somewhat heartening

To watch shepherd need shepherd

But you you're not allowed

You're uninvited

An unfortunate slight!

 

            Mason was taller than she was now, but he’d been taller for awhile. He looked excited as hell and she asked him why.

            “Dan!” Mason said. “He’s here. He’s moved here. He’s going to stay!”

            “Dan?”

            “Dan. My uncle. Dan. Dan! Yeah,” Mason said. “And he’s asking for you.”

            Suddenly Adam stopped singing. Suddenly the water in the shower stopped running.

            Suddenly everything stopped, and Savannah just stood there… processing.

 

“You know what, Sully?” Swain McDonald told him, “You’re spending a lot of time here.

            “Not that it’s a bad thing,” she elaborated when he looked at her strangely. “But… It’s just… I’d think you’d be spending a lot more time with Chris is all.”

            “Well, we’re not attached or anything.”

            They were sitting in the solarium at the back of the Balliol house, the one where they had all sat the night Balliol’s father had died, not quite a year ago.

            “You used to be attached,” Balliol told him, leaning forward to pour himself more ice tea. “And everything.”

            “I guess,” Sully murmured.

            “But we had… things to work out. You know. The relationship fell apart. And then we were making up, so we spent a lot of time together.”

            Swain smiled dreamily and said, “Make up sex is the best.”

            Her cousin looked at her sharply.

            “Not that I know personally,” Swain explained. “I mean, Mason and I don’t fight… Or fuck for that matter,” she added, glancing at Balliol’s swollen nostrils.

            “Only… Bonnie says makeup sex is the best.”

            “I could stand to hear Bonnie Metzger’s words of wisdom repeated a little less in this house,” Balliol said. “And what does she know about making up? She’s only had one real relationship. If you count fucking Addison’s brain’s out—”

            “Lincoln!”

            Lincoln breathed out between his teeth, the usual way he “deflated” as he called it.

            “Well,” Sully said. “Make up or whatever you call it is over and we’re just… we’re our own people is all. That’s all. Things are at a normal place for the first time. No fighting, no drama, no coming out, no leaving, no none of it. And we’re… at a lull is all.”

            Sully added. “If it makes you guys feel better… we did have sex this morning.”

            To the surprise of Sully and Swain, Balliol said, very clinically: “Was it good?”

            Sully thought for a moment and then said, “It was good enough.”

            Balliol raised an eyebrow and shook his head: “Good enough,” he murmured, picking up his tea glass, “is not good enough.”

           

 

“Okay,” Matt panted, catching the basketball in his chest. “Talk.”

            Chris peeled off his tank top, wiped his red face and then began to mop his chest, panting.

            “I mean, we could shoot hoops aggressively and pass out or have a real conversation.”

            “I think,” Chris dropped his shirt and cupped his knees, breathing in the driveway of the Powers’ house, “I’d rather pass out.”

            Matt dropped the basketball and it dribbled a little. He kicked it into the grass.

            “That’s what makes us guys.”

            Neither one of them said anything for awhile and then Chris said, “It’s Sully.”

            Matt just looked at him.

            “Or maybe it’s me. No,” Chris decided. “It’s definitely me.”

            Even though they were at the side of Chris’s house and no one next door could hear or, even if they could hear, no one next door would care, Matt came closer, feeling that whatever Chris was about to say needed to be whispered.

            “I…” Chris began, balling his hands up. “Remember back when we were seniors and I snapped on Sully. Cause I thought what we were doing was wrong?”

            “Yeah?”

            “And then I came back.”

            “Well obviously you came back.”

            “How did you and Suzie break up?”

            “She left me. She broke up with me.”

            “But before she did. I mean, it was old already. Wasn’t it?”

            Matt was quiet. He folded his arms over his chest.

            “I would have stayed with her.”

            “Yeah,” Chris said. “You would have. But you’d stopped loving her, right?”

            “I… “ Matt shook his head. “You don’t stop loving someone, Chris. Love isn’t like that.”

“You loved Suzie, though, Right? I mean, the first time you all slept together you did it cause you thought it would last forever. You really, really loved her.”

            “Yes,” Matt said, going sort of red.

            “Well, do you love her now?”

            “I…” Matt thought until there was a knot in his head from thinking. “Chris, I don’t know what it means anymore. I mean, I thought I knew.”

            “I wish I knew,” Chris said. “I wish I knew how to keep on being in love forever.”

            “Are you saying you don’t love Sully anymore?”

            Chris opened his mouth.

            “This morning… I felt like… I felt like I was performing, like I was doing something I had to do, should do, had to get myself into. And the whole time I was… sort of watching myself do it. And I was getting a little grossed out. I feel that way a lot lately.”

            Matt just stood there looking at him, waiting for Chris to go on.

            “I mean… I feel like I’m not there when I’m with Sully. I feel like I’m watching myself. It’s not just like sex is the performance. It’s like… the whole relationship is the performance. I just wish…”

            When Chris didn’t talk for a while, Matt thought it was time for him to help.

            “Wish what?”

            “Wish we could,” Chris still looked confused, his hands were turning into claws as he reached for what he was trying to say.

“I don’t know. Reincarnate. Start all over again. Be something else. Not be lovers anymore. I… I would like to be free. I feel… Not free. Love’s supposed to make you free. I just feel responsible.”

            A change came over Matt’s face and Chris whispered, “What?”

            “I’m going to tell you something,” Matt reached for the basketball, and, unconsciously, he began to dribble it. He added: “Don’t ever tell anyone.”

            Chris shook his head.

            “When Suzie broke up with me… It was right after we’d done it. Right? And I remember when she told me it was over I cried. I hurt so fucking bad. But then something else happened… I felt free. Toward the end of it I felt so responsible. Responsible because we’d slept together, responsible because we were Catholic and were supposed to be together forever. Responsible for… everything.

            “And then it was over. I felt lost, and I felt hurt for a real long time, Chris. And I felt like a fucking failure. But… I felt free. And if you ask me if I still love her, then I don’t know. But I think the answer’s probably I don’t. If you ask me do I feel better about it being over. Definitely. Not because she was bad,” he bounced the ball hard and caught it in both palms. “Or because I was bad. But just because… we’d both been over for a long time. And we were trying so hard.”

            Matt shot the ball hard into the hoop and it came out and bounced back to his palms.

            “Do you guys…” Chris began, “still talk? I mean… Can you be friends?”

            “Maybe one day,” Matt said after a moment. “But not right now.”

            “See, I still want to be friends with Sully. I never want to stop being his best friend. That’s what scares me. I don’t know if we can end this and still love each other.”

            Matt didn’t say anything. He just dribbled the ball rapidly, between his knees.

Chris’s hand went out and stopped the ball.

“Matt, tell me he’ll still be there. Tell me we’ll still be best friends.”

Matt didn’t do anything immediately, but at last he bit his lip and shook his head.

“No, Chris… I can’t do that.”

 

  “So… if today is Monday, and it is,” Sully was saying over the phone. “Then that means we can head out for Genoa on… I’m thinking Friday afternoon. How’s that sound?”

            “It sounds great,” Matt said, listlessly.

            “Can I ask you a question?”

            “Sure, buddy.”

            “You just called me, buddy.”

            “Yeah,” Matt seemed not to understand why that was such a big deal, but Matt seemed not to understand a lot tonight. He was weird.

            So Sully told him that.

            “Sully, I need to get off the phone. I don’t feel right.”

            “Feel good, or feel right?”

            “Both,” Matt told him.

            “Listen, Sullivan,” he said. “You need to call Chris. You all need to talk. Like right now.”

            “Is there something…” Sully stopped. “Have you been talking to him?”

            “Well, we’re friends.”

            “But I mean about me. About us?”

            “Sully…”

            “Could you just tell me, Matt.” Sully didn’t seem so much angry as he did tired.

            “I think you guys really need to talk.”

            “Do you know,” Sully said after a moment. “This morning I woke up laughing. Thinking about me. Thinking about how I wasn’t supposed to be what I am. How I am. Who I am. And now… I don’t feel like laughing. I feel confused. I feel like one big question mark uncurling into an exclamation point. If that makes any sense.”

            In an odd way it did, and in a part of Matt’s mind divorced from his usual train of thought he was thinking, “Sully puts things so beautifully… And then he was thinking how he didn’t want to leave Sully alone. In the last two years Sully had turned into one of his best friends. He hated to see him hurt. He wanted to talk to Bailey about this. Bailey would know exactly what to do.

            Sullivan Reardon said, “It’s over, isn’t it?”

            Matt was startled back into the moment.

            “I will call him,” Sully said. “I’ll end it myself. You’re really giving me a head’s up, aren’t you? Chris wants to end it. This time for the right reasons. It’s over now. As my mom once said… ‘The magic’s gone.’”

            “Now, Sully, maybe you guys need to just talk—”

            “Oh, Matt, please stop,” Sully said. His voice was very reasonable. It was a lot like Balliol’s in fact.

            “I hate people who cling to shit when its done. I hate that. My mom did that when she was married to my dad. When it’s over you should just have the grace to know it’s over. I want a little fucking grace. It’s over. I know it’s over. I wish I could find out exactly how a thing ends, what the heartbeat of a relationship is. You know? Deep inside I suspect it was over when Chris decked me, back in junior year. It was over then, but the nerves remained and we’ve just been squeezing them out. Well, let me get off the phone,” Sully said. “This time I want to be the one to end it.”

            There was dead space on the other end of the line and then Sully said, “Matt—”

            “I was just thinking you were right,” Matt told him. “This time around you do deserve to be the one.”

 

The jazz playing from the local NPR station was tinny in the little radio, and Dan was thinking about how he’d have to find a way to hook up his speakers before tomorrow. He’d also have to get a fan. He looked around this place and thought that, with help, he could renovate it.

            There was a tap on the door. Keisha must be here by now. What had taken her so long? She’d been an attentive sister when he was growing up, but… Well, this was the woman who’d gotten up in the middle of washing after dinner dishes and left her child and husband.

            “It’s open, Keesh,” Dan called. And as he did he realized that he sounded really, really white. He realized for the first time, I am white. I am white, born into a Black family. Like the Jerk.

            Sometimes he felt like a jerk.

            But when the door opened it was Savannah.

            He stood up for her. His mouth was wide open. His arms were wide open and so were hers. They just stood facing each other and then neither one knew who crossed the room first. They just embraced and held each other and, suddenly there they were holding their in-law, their oldest friend, their first love, their so many times everything and one of them said, though neither knew who it was:

            “God. God! It’s so good to see you.”