“And uncle ducks jumping into indoor swimming pools filled with gold coins?”
“Yes,” I say, relieved. Mateo understands. Mateo is excellent at understanding.
“In those books,” I say, “sometimes people would get hit on the head.”
“Cartoon books are violent.”
“Yes. And after the characters got hit on the head, they would see stars. And the stars would be so beautiful. Glittering.” I take his hand. “You, Mateo, are my star. You spin and are impossibly pretty. Prettier than anything else found in a cartoon book. Those people in cartoon books would stare up in wonder when they’d be hit on the head.”
“They were dazed,” Mateo says.
“Stunned,” I say. “But you are real, Mateo. You are not just a drawing on a page. You didn’t disappear when my head injury did. And I don’t want you to disappear.”
“I’m just?—”
“I know,” I say. “I am German. From an academic family. But you do not need to be like my parents or my sister or their friends and colleagues and acquaintances. I do not require that in a boyfriend.”
“No?”
My nose wrinkles, and I shake my head. “No. You are Mateo, and you are perfect.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“I do. I am a serious man.” My eyes narrow somewhat, because I am surprised that Mateo did not pick up on that. He is so observant.
For some reason Mateo is smiling, like I’ve said one of those things that the men in suits on stage do sometimes when they say funny things.
“I’m not perfect,” Mateo says. “I am messy and frazzled and…”
“Oh, those are not issues,” I assure him, understanding finally now. “Those are your pointy bits.”
“Like the stars in comic books?”
“One doesn’t come across a star all the time,” I say. “I liked you from the moment I saw you.”
“You were attracted to me.”
“I do not normally hide in janitor’s closets,” I say. “I did not know how to see you, because all I wanted to do was gaze at you. Because the fact that we were not together was too painful. Because I would rather be anywhere, even a janitor’s closet, than speak to you and be reminded that you did not like me.”
“I liked you…”
I shake my head. “No, you thought I wasstrange. It is okay. I was strange.” I wrinkle my brow. “I still am.”
Mateo smiles.
“Perhaps you will want to remain in Boston. But know that I will miss you and I will think about you and I will marvel that in my life I met one star.”
“You could date anyone.”
I shrug. “That has perhaps been the case for a while.”
Mateo looks startled.
“I am a good match,” I say. “If not excellent at convincing the man I love to be with me.”
“So… You love me?”
“You make everyone around you better,” I say. “Even a man you did not like very much. Even him, you went out of your way to ease his pain. You could have told me at the hospital that we weren’t together.”
