My response is cut short by an incoming phone call. Eris connected zis phone to my car before we left; ze figured my taste in music was boring. I let zim because it is.
“You speak Spanish?” Eris asks.
I shake my head. I took Latin as my foreign language, which is entirely useless for conversing, but helpful for both environmental studies and legal doctrine. “Allie minored in Spanish, so I can kind of read it, but I can’t follow a conversation at all.”
“Cool. Don’t talk. It’ll confuse her.” Finally letting go of my hand, Eris presses the accept button. “Bueno, Abuelita.”
“Erik, cielo mio!”
“Erisss, Abuelita,” ze corrects her gently, and that is the extent of the conversation I can follow because Eris talks very fast. But ze sounds almost sweet talking to her. I’ve never heard zis voice so gentle. They laugh together, and their laughs are so similar that I can’t help but smile as we pass Madison. Thankfully, the midmorning traffic on the freeway is light. The city used to feel huge compared to Solberg, but after two years in Chicago, it looks quaint and diminutive.
Is this the Eris I’ve been missing out on? Or would ze still be abrasive, even in the privacy of Adrienne’s home? Or zis apartment, if we ever get to be close enough?
As I scold myself for lettingthatthought formulate, the peaceful conversation is interrupted by another woman, her voice sharp and cold as she cuts in. “Erik, I told you to stop bothering your grandmother.”
In the background, zis grandma sounds agitated.
Eris huffs. “I’m not bothering her. We were having a good conversation until you—”
But the call ends before Eris can finish zis sentence.
Seven
Love Darts
Themusicreturns,butthe silence is heavy between us. Keeping my eyes on the road, I wait, giving Eris room to open up if ze chooses. Strangely, I kind of want zim to make good on the heart-to-heart ze referenced before. But the silence stretches on.
“There’s a drumlin over there,” I say tentatively. “It’s a glacial hill.”
“You don’t have to change the subject.” Zis voice is thick. “You can ask questions if you’re curious.”
“You don’t have to explain. Or you can? If you want?”
Eris laughs. “Yeah, that’s how conversations work, Bambi.”
I huff. “Just… Don’t feel like you have to talk about anything unless you want to.”
“Chill out. I’m just giving you shit.” Ze slumps back in the passenger seat, bunching the hem of zis sundress in a clenched fist. “My grandma has dementia. Early on, she made reminders for herself to call her family. I always answer when she does, because it means she’s lucid and lonely enough to miss the people she loves, even if she doesn’t remember exactly who she’scalling. But she gets confused easily, and she gets upset when she’s confused.”
That explains the uncharacteristically gentle tone in Eris’s voice. “So you have to come out to her every time she calls, or be deadnamed the whole conversation?”
Eris nods. “I’ve got the delivery down pretty good by now.”
“I’m sorry.” I put my hand on Eris’s this time.
Zis fist relaxes, letting go of the cotton skirt to lace our fingers together instead. “Stop apologizing. I’m used to it.”
“Who hung up on you?”
“My mom.”
Surprised, I glance at Eris, whose jaw clenches.
“I’m not welcome back home until I ‘get my act together.’ So be less embarrassing, basically. Not so visibly queer. A respectable cis man, discreet about who I sleep with, if I must ‘choose’ to be bisexual.” Ze scoffs. “So no one ever contacts me, except Abuelita. It’s nice that someone in my family reaches out, even if she doesn’t actually remember who I am.”
I never know how to sound sympathetic, but I can’t not saysomethingto that. “That sounds tough, Bud.”
After our murmured conversation, Eris’s cackle is like a tree trunk splitting in the dead of winter. The high-pitched laugh is less irritating after hearing zis grandma has the same one. “Jesus Christ! Good thing you’re not a therapist, Bambi.”
