When people start making a move to go to a bar near campus, Connor offers to help Georgie take down the string lights, andfor the first time since we arrived, I find myself alone, though not for long. Tank sees me, waves, and stumbles over.
“D’you have a good time tonight?” he asks, plopping down heavily on the bench I’m sitting on. His movements are sluggish, cumbersome due to his size, and also a little slowed by booze.
“Yeah, it’s been pretty decent.”
He lets out a low grunt that sounds like an agreement. “I meant it earlier when I said it was good to meet you,” he says, looking at me in a way that seems a little too comfortable. Too personal. “Con’s…well, Con’s one of those people who everyone loves. He’s one of those people who thinks the best of everyone, but it’s rare for him to like someone as much as he likes you.”
“Is this the conversation where you tell me you’ll kick my ass if I hurt him?” I titter, unable to tell if I’m making a joke or if I’m serious.
“Does it need to be?” Tank replies without skipping a beat or looking at me.
“Nah, uh, no. It’s not like that between us. I’m str…”
A big, goofy smile spreads across his face. “I know, bud. I’m kidding. Con said you’re not into dick, and that’s fine. No judgment here.”
Wait. Does that mean he’s into dick? Has Tank been with Connor? Has this giant man put his dick in Connor Lockwood?
A nasty green rope springs free in my guts, swirling and twirling, tying itself into a tight knot.
“Er, thanks, I guess.”
“I’m a little out of it,” he says, goofy smile firmly in place. “But what I’m trying to say is that Con likes everyone, but he doesn’t let many people in. Not really. Not deep. He hasn’t known you for long, but I’ve known him for a really long time, and I can tell he’s let you in. That’s all I’m saying.” I’m not sure how to respond to that, so I bob my head slowly in a way I hope conveysrespectful agreement. “I don’t know how much he’s told you about what happened to him last year?”
“He told me he was sick and about the surgery.”
“He was more than sick, bud. He was so sick that he wasn’t supposed to make it. He shouldn’t have survived what he went through. They told us he wouldn’t. They said to say our goodbyes. Georgie and I went to see him in the hospital as often as we could, and by the end, there were times when we’d stand at his bed and Georgie would cry and look at me, and I’d know exactly what she was thinking because I was thinking the same thing. Con was there, he was still with us, but he also wasn’t.”
An image of Connor, frail and weak, lying in a hospital bed, flits into my mind. It’s so different from the way he is now, I can hardly believe it really happened.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You know how when you stand next to someone and close your eyes, you can still feel them? You know it’s them and that they’re close? It was like that, but the opposite. We could feel him, he was himself, but he was far away. It was like whatever it is that makes him Connor was floating around us, but it wasn’t fixed to his body anymore.” His voice cracks, and to my surprise, he doesn’t apologize for it or try to correct. “I thought we were going to lose him. I thought we were going to bury him and have to figure out how to live our lives without him.”
Tank takes a breath and blasts it out of his mouth through his teeth. He pushes up his sleeve, exposing the smooth skin of his inner elbow. There’s a tattoo there. Black ink. Text only.January 8th.The letters drift slowly to whatever part of my brain makes sense of those kinds of things. That was the day. The day Connor got his new heart. I know that, but still, it feels strange to see it like that. Ink injected under someone’s skin.
“January eighth,” I murmur robotically. “What’s that?”
“It’s the day our lives changed. The day Connor lived.” I’m not sure how to react, but fortunately, Tank doesn’t mind. He continues without a response from me. “I knew he was strong, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t know how strong. He’s a fighter. Don’t let his soft side fool you. He’s the strongest motherfucker you’ll ever meet.” His voice drifts as his gaze finds Connor and softens. “Being in his life will probably be the best thing that’ll ever happen to you, Lennon, so please, be mindful of him. Keep an eye on him. He acts all tough and fine, but we have to be vigilant when it comes to his health. Georgie and I keep an eye on him, and so do his parents. We’re, we’re all really relieved he has you living with him now. He’s independent as hell and hates that we worry about him, but we do. I was hoping to meet you tonight so we could exchange numbers, so if anything ever happens to Con, you have a way of getting a hold of me. You can call anytime. If he’s dizzy or weak. If he’s out of breath. If he catches a cold. If he looks funny, and you aren’t sure why. It doesn’t matter how minor it seems, call me and I’ll come over, no matter the time.”
“Sure,” I say, getting my phone out of my pocket. As we airdrop our contacts to each other, I play back some of what Tank just told me. Obviously, I knew most of it, but there’s a difference between knowing something andknowingit.
“I know it seems like Georgie and I are crazy protective of him, and we are. I’m not saying we’re not, but we’re not possessive of him. When you have someone like him in your life, you can’t help learning from them…” He sighs softly. “What I’m trying—and failing—to say is that there’s a lot of love to go around. A lot of love. Georgie and I, we love Connor, and if he wants you in his life, then we want you in ours too.”
“What are you guys talking about?” asks Connor, appearing in front of me as if out of nowhere.
“Tank was just telling me about how there’s so much love in the world,” I reply.
“Oh shit,” says Connor, with a soft, knowing chuckle he aims at Tank. “Are you wasted, big guy?”
“Something like that,” mumbles Tank.
As we leave, Georgie and Tank take it in turns to hug Connor and me goodbye.
“Yo, Lennon,” Tank calls after us as we start walking home, “I’m wasted but not that wasted. I meant what I said.”
I look back at him, and fuck me sideways, he’s standing there smiling at me like no one ever told him it wasn’t cool to smile that big or talk about shit like this with a stranger.
Goddammit. The jock is a giant marshmallow, and he’s almost as much of a good person as Connor is.
