What Charlie’s saying makes sense. Simon can either argue, or he can go along with it. His whole entire faulty brain wants to argue.
Charlie hands Simon the scissors so he can trim another rectangle of wrapping paper, and doesn’t say a single thing as Simon wraps the box again. When Simon’s done, Charlie takes the present away and puts it on the table by the door, which is just as well because now Simon’s out of wrapping paper.
“I could come with you too,” Charlie says, his back to Simon.
“Why on earth would you want to do that?”
Charlie knocks his forehead into the frame of the mirror that hangs by the door. “Are you going to try to tell me it would be worse with me there? I mean, maybe it would be. I don’t know your family. But would it be?”
“No,” Simon concedes.
“If you don’t want me there, that’s fine.” Charlie doesn’t sound like it would be fine, but he turns around, at least. “I mean, I’m visiting my mom next month. I need to do that alone. Having you—or Alex, or anyone—with me would make it worse. My feelings won’t be hurt if that’s what you need too.”
He kind of sounds like his feelings would be hurt, though.
When Simon’s anxious, he’s not greatat figuring out what’s going on in other people’s heads. But he’s spent enough time with Charlie that he doesn’t even have to do any deciphering. It’s all right there, out in the open.
Simon has this sense that if Charlie meets his family, he’llknow—know what exactly, Simon isn’t sure, except that Charlie will see Simon for the mess he is. All Simon’s weaknesses will be right there, under a spotlight for Charlie to see.
“You’d probably like my family,” Simon forces himself to say. “Most people do.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I know.” The point is that Charlie wants to make things better for Simon, and that’s a thought that Simon wants to push away from himself as hard as he can. It’s worse than conceding that he could bring Edie.
What Charlie’s offering is no more than what Simon did by interfering with Dave. It’s not so different than all the little things Simon did in Arizona to make Charlie feel less terrible. It’s less than what Charlie did by bringing Edie to New York.
They’ve spent weeks doing this, showing one another their weaknesses. Falling in love, probably, although that’s at the top of the list of things Simon isn’t thinking about.
So, right now, he can ask Charlie for help, when it’s so clear that it’s what Charlie wants from him, and—and it doesn’t mean that Simon’s clingy or pathetic. Or it does mean he’s a bit clingy and there’s nothing wrong with that, because Charlie already knows.
“Nora would love to meet you,” Simon says.
“Yeah?”
“I should have asked you before.” It’s true, even though it feels all wrong in Simon’s mouth. “I think I don’t like asking for things.”
“I don’t know how the fuck a man who can demand to read nutritional labels at restaurants can’t just ask his boyfriend to go to a party with him,” Charlie says.
Simonshouldhave asked Charlie to come with him, just like he should have asked Charlie to stay with him, instead of leaving Charlie guessing. Charlie doesn’t seem upset, but maybe he should be. Simon feels like he’s been carelessly stingy.
Charlie’s face is pink, and it takes Simon a minute to rewind and figure out why. That’s the first time either of them has saidboyfriend.
“I can ask a barista about the brand of oat milk because that’s herjoband also I tip extremely well,” Simon says.
Charlie obviously wants to argue about every single syllable in that sentence, but instead he jams his hands in his pockets and looks at the ceiling. “It’s my job. Just—let it be my job.”
Simon can hardly breathe. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.”
Simon feels wildly self-conscious rolling up to his brother’s house with a dog and a whole extra person, but there must be a hundred people on the lawn, an entire flock of waiters, and a couple of men who look a lot like bodyguards. Nobody’s paying attention to Simon.
“I should have written her a check,” Simon says, clutching the present. “That’s what people do for graduations. What was I thinking?”
“Doesn’t look like this kid’s hurting for money,” Charlie observes, taking in the house, the crowd, the entire spectacle. He’s right. “How richisyour family?”
“Everybody has a real job and nobody has a private jet.” These are crucial bits of information in Simon’s classification of rich people, but Charlie looks like he’s ready to storm the winter palace. “Private school but not boarding school. Martha’s Vineyard, not Dubai. Upper middle class, really, when you think about it,” he adds, mainly to get that vein in Charlie’s forehead to do its thing.
Simon’s sister-in-law, Nora’s mother, greets them, and Simon goes through the motions of introducing Charlie andgood to see youandyou must be so proudand a couple of air kisses.
