Living with Jackie Chan (5 page)

“That was great, wasn’t it?” Larry asks when he finally comes out to the hall to get me. “Man, I love watching all these people discover karate. It changed my life, and I know it’ll change theirs, too. Isn’t that awesome?”

I wonder if Larry ever gets sad or pissed off. He seems so goddamned
happy
all the time.

“Awesome,” I say.

“Hey, I have a great idea. Let’s go home and shower and invite Arielle over for dinner. We’ll get her favorite takeout! She’s dying to meet you.”

As he starts jumping around in his puppy-dog way, I realize who Larry reminds me of: my friend Dave back home. His excited panting is equally annoying.

“OK,” I say. Because, like Dave, if you don’t at least act like you agree to do whatever it is he’s excited about, he gets this pathetic, sad-dog look. And that’s even worse.

Thinking about Dave makes me realize how much I miss him and Caleb. For as long as I can remember, I’ve seen or talked to those two every day. Even though we act like we drive each other nuts, we’re best friends. And not having them around to drive me crazy is a lot harder than I thought it would be.

At home, I take a long shower, then check my phone for messages.

Caleb:
where r u? call!


Dave: [More stupid jokes not worth mentioning.]

My mom:
we miss u. pls call 2 tell us urok
.

She wants me to tell them I rock? Nice texting, Mom. I know she means she wants to know if I’m OK. But I’m pretty sure the fact that I’m here means she knows I’m not. Whatever.

I call her cell and get her voice mail. Figures. She’s really dying to hear from me. I hang up without leaving a message.

I send Caleb a quick text to tell him I’ve been busy, then Dave a quick “LOL” so he thinks I actually read his jokes. Then I join Larry in the living room, where he’s setting the coffee table for dinner. He doesn’t have a dining-room table, and he says it’s unromantic to eat dinner in the kitchen. I point out that it’s also unromantic to invite me to a dinner that’s supposed to be romantic, but he just laughs.

“Are you kidding me? Taking you in has earned me major points. She thinks I’m the most sensitive guy in the world now.” He fake-punches my shoulder.

So funny.

“That’s not why I took you in, of course. You know that, right? It’s just a perk. A bonus. I’d do anything for you, Sammy. You know that, right?”

Calm down, Larry. God.

“Right?” he asks again. He seems dangerously close to getting the sad-puppy look, so I humor him.

“Yeah,” I say. “Of course. Thanks, Lar.”

He steps back to admire the coffee table. He’s put cloth place mats under the plates and everything. They don’t match, but they still look nice.

When the buzzer from downstairs rings, Larry races over to the button on the wall and presses it. “Hey, beautiful, come on up!”

Larry is all class.

For some reason, my hands feel sweaty. I quickly wipe them on my jeans in case I have to shake hands with Arielle or something.

Larry runs out to the hall to greet her. When they come back in, they’re holding hands. Arielle is taller than Larry. Larry looks at me and kind of nods his head in her direction, like,
Told you she was hot.
And yes. She is. Extremely. But he really needs to stop doing that before she notices.

“Hey, Josh,” she says, holding out her hand. Thank God I wiped mine off. We shake. Her hand is strong and bony. She’s also incredibly tan.

“It’s so great to meet you. Larry has been talking about you all summer. He’s been dying to have you come stay with him.”

Well, I’d say that’s probably laying it on kind of thick, but who cares?

Larry beams.

Arielle checks out the coffee table. “Nice spread, Larry! You did this for me?”

He smiles. “What would you like to drink? White? Red? Beer?”

“I’d love a glass of red.”

“Pinot OK?”

“Perfect.”

“Just like you.”

Oh. My. God. Could he possibly be more embarrassing?

“I’ll take a beer,” I say.

Larry laughs.

“What?” I ask.

“This isn’t Chez My Big Brother, little man. I know your dad gives you drinks, but I’m not your dad.”

Wait. Did he really just call me “little man”? He did. If Caleb and Dave were here, they would be rolling on the floor dying of laughter.

Larry heads to the kitchen, and Arielle goes over to the stereo to check out Larry’s CD collection.

“So, what kind of music are you into?” she asks.

Nothing that’s on any of the CDs that Larry probably bought ten years ago, that’s for sure. Who even keeps CDs anymore?

I think of my dad and his guitar and all the lame ’90s cover tunes he plays with his pals at dive bars every weekend. Normally, I hate that stuff. But for some reason, I wouldn’t mind hearing it right now. I wouldn’t mind just listening to my dad strumming his guitar in the living room when he doesn’t think anyone’s home.

“No preferences,” I say.

She chooses Bob Marley.

Larry comes back with two glasses of wine and some milk for me in a wineglass. God. He may as well’ve come out with a freakin’ Shirley Temple.

“So,” he says, motioning for Arielle to sit down. “What are you in the mood for? Chinese? Thai? Mexican? Italian?”

“Why don’t we let Josh decide?” she says.

“Oh, um, whatever’s fine with me.” I sit down on the chair opposite the couch.

“I’ll grab some menus and we can narrow it down,” Larry says. He dashes off to the kitchen again.

Arielle smiles at me. “Larry says you’re staying to do your last year of school at Roosevelt.”

I nod.

“That’s cool.” She studies my face, like I’m supposed to say more. Does she know more? Would Larry tell her? I just sit there, not knowing what to say.

Awkward, awkward silence.

“And you’re taking karate with him?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Larry’s such a great teacher. Did you know that’s how we met? We both teach at the Y.”

Larry comes back with an enormous stack of menus and some crackers on a plate with a hunk of cheese. “I picked these up at the farmers’ market,” he says.

We all riffle through the menus and finally decide on Thai. Larry makes the order while Arielle and I try out the cheese. It smells like a goat and I almost throw up. Arielle makes a face, too. We both laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Larry asks when he comes back to join us.

“Nothing,” we say at the same time.

Bonded. Nice.

“Food will be here in a half hour,” Larry tells us. He grabs a cracker and puts an enormous chunk of cheese on it. He starts to chew, then makes a face like he’s going to hurl. “Berightback,” he says with his mouth full, and races to the kitchen. He comes back with a piece of white cheese. “Cheddar,” he says. “Always reliable.”

We all crack up.

“So, Josh,” Arielle says after we finish dinner. “Tell me more about school. Larry says you want to be an architect? Or do some sort of landscape design? Have you decided which colleges you want to apply to?”

Larry beams at me as if he’s my proud dad.

“Not yet,” I say. “I have a lot of research to do.”

“Well, I’ve heard Roosevelt has a great guidance office to help students with college applications. And I’m sure Larry can help, too.”

“Yeah, Larry’s great,” I say. Because really he is. Even if he’s hands down the biggest dork on the planet.

I decide I should probably give them some time alone, so I clear the table and bring everything to the kitchen. I put all the leftovers away and wash and dry the dishes. As I’m standing there with my hands all soapy, washing more than my own plate, I realize this is the first time in months that I’ve had a real meal with another person. Sure, my dad and I sit on the couch and watch TV while we wolf down a pizza or something. But this was different. With real plates, not paper. And no TV.

When I turn off the water, I hear them laughing in the living room and decide to slip out for a while. I grab my new keys off the hook by the door and start to leave when Larry calls over.

“Hey, where are you going?”

I turn. They’re sitting on the couch, Larry’s arm over Arielle’s shoulder. They look good together.

“Just for a walk,” I say. “I’ll be back later. No worries.”

Larry studies me for a second, then nods. “OK, just come back before it gets dark.”

Before it gets dark? What am I, ten? But I admit, it’s nice to have someone care for a change.

I nod. “Be back later.” When I step into the hallway, the warm feeling I had earlier slowly drains out of me and I stop and stand there. Alone. I lean back against the closed door and listen to the music on the other side. Larry must have turned it up as soon as I stepped out. I imagine him with Arielle inside. Maybe they’re dancing. They seem like the type. I picture them in there, swaying to the music, holding each other. Falling in love. A new feeling starts to seep inside me, starting at my feet. It’s cold, and dark, and it feels like if it reaches all the way up to my head, it will simultaneously freeze and suffocate me. So I take the stairs two at a time, and get out and away before it can catch up and swallow me whole.

Outside, it’s still pretty hot and muggy. I take the same path Larry and I took to the park. Lots of people have come here to walk their dogs tonight. Some have picnic dinners spread out on blankets. I head over to the deli and buy an ice-cream sandwich, then go back to the park and find an empty bench.

I used to get these from the ice-cream truck that came to our park when I was a kid. Caleb, Dave, and I would scrounge for change in all the best spots — our parents’ coat pockets, under couch cushions, etc. Then we’d each buy whatever we could afford. Usually, it was the lame stuff like a Popsicle or an Italian ice cup because those were the cheapest. But sometimes, if we could find enough money, we’d splurge on a Bomb Pop or Choco Taco and see who could eat it the slowest without getting the drips all over us.

I take a bite and I feel like I’m back there again. When everything sucked, but it was OK because I was with my best friends and we were all in it together. And to be honest, life didn’t really suck all that much. We just felt like it did because we wanted a Choco Taco every day. That, and maybe to be playing catch with our dads like some of the other kids in the park, instead of being mostly parentless all the time.

I squeeze the chocolate sandwich so the vanilla ice cream oozes out and lick the sides, just like we used to.

“You keep doing that and you won’t have any ice cream left to eat the sandwich with.” Stella is standing over me, grinning like I’m something to be amused by. She sits down next to me. She’s kind of dressed up, with a nice shirt and a short skirt. She looks really great, actually. If Dave were here, he’d elbow me and say something totally inappropriate about her legs.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey.” She looks down at her lap.

“You want one? My treat?”

“Nah,” she says. “I’m on a diet.”

“You? But you’re so —” I realize I just revealed that I’ve checked out her body. Or at least, that’s what it will sound like. “You don’t look like you need to be on a diet.” I finish my sandwich to occupy my mouth and keep it from saying anything else to make me look like an idiot.

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” she asks.

“Larry’s girlfriend is over, and I wanted to give them some space.”

“That’s thoughtful of you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“My boyfriend just dropped me off.”

“Here? Why not at the apartment?”

“I wanted to take a walk before going home. Get some fresh air.” She looks in the direction of the apartment building, as if there’s something there she wants to avoid.

“My mom has this new boyfriend, and she invited him for dinner. I’m kind of avoiding them.” She checks her watch.

“Do you like the guy?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. We haven’t really hung out. My mom thinks I scare her boyfriends away.”

“Yeah. I can see that,” I say. “You’re pretty scary.”

“Heh. Yeah. Well, it’s the whole ‘being saddled with a kid’ thing. She doesn’t want to scare them away on the first date. So . . . I keep my distance.”

I nod and try not to think about the phrase she just used.

“Karate practice was kind of fun, huh?” she asks. I swear she could sense I wanted her to change the subject.

“I’m not sure that’s the word I’d choose, but —”

She laughs. “Well, I’m glad you’re in class. It’s nice to know someone who can teach me the ropes.”

Right.

“Larry said you stayed with him one summer when you were little and took his class then?”

“Yeah. My dad’s in this band, and they traveled around for the summer, playing at different pubs and stuff. My parents couldn’t really take me to all the bars, so Larry took me in for a few weeks and made me go to all his classes then, too.”

“Your dad’s in a band? That’s so cool!”

“Not really. They’re kind of lame.”

“Oh. Well, it must have been fun to hang out with Larry for the summer. He seems like such a kid himself.”

“Yeah. We had a good time.”