“You…” Aaron started, sitting up. His eyebrows sprang high, ruffling the tips of his bangs. “You’d want to come see her? Even if she might have a hard time with you? She might say some things, Oscar. You’d come?”
“Yes,” Oscar replied. “A million and one times. Boo…I grew up around a mothersaying some things. At least your mother is a wonderful woman. I’d take her any day over mine.”
“Have I told you how lucky I am?” Aaron asked. The broken glass gave way to liquid joy streaming down his cheeks.
“You might have mentioned it once or twice,” Oscar replied. “Now come here. I want to hold you until we fall asleep.”
“Yes,” Aaron said. “Kiss me to sleep, Spike.”
“I will,” Oscar murmured, taking his cup and pulling himinto his chest, sliding down to pull the covers over them, shooing Luigi away so Aaron could curl up by his side. “Now close your eyes and dream sweet things.”
By the time Oscar turned off the light, Aaron was already snoring.
14
SUNFLOWER SUITE
Aaron had been fidgeting with his clothes for the last hour, standing in front of the mirror checking his hair, which he’d begged Oscar to cut for him. When Oscar had panicked and said he couldn’t even color inside the lines, Aaron had looked up at him with those big blue eyes, mouth wobbling, and Oscar knew he was done for.
“Baby, come on. Like your papa used to do,” Aaron had murmured.
So Oscar had trimmed away the extra-long strands crowding Aaron’s nape and anything else that looked a little too overgrown, but that was where he’d drawn the line.
“You look wonderful. Come on.” Oscar slipped his hand into Aaron’s and tugged him out of the apartment, blowing a goodbye kiss to Luigi as he pulled the door shut.
Aaron was in a daze all the way down to the street, picking at his shirt, straightening it and pulling it askew within seconds, getting on the bus and not even looking at the driver as he passed.
“I promise he’s got a card,” Oscar said, mumbling an apology. “He’s anxious to see someone at the hospital.”
The bus driver gave him a nod, slowly blinking as though to reassure him she believed him. Like a cat; like Luigi. Oscar recognized her. He and Aaron had been on her route several times, although they’d never gone past the cathedral together, and this time, they’d be riding for more than an hour into the next city.
Oscar hurried to Aaron’s side, taking his hand, rubbing each knuckle.You’ll be alright, he thought, and tried hard not to focus too much on how badly he wished he could see his papa in a nursing home instead of the still pictures that immortalized his smile but not his laugh.
But this wasn’t about him. It was about Aaron. And he couldn’t be focusing on his unreasonable envy. Because it wasn’t fair that Papa had died. But it wasn’t fair that Aaron’s mother had this disease, either. It wasn’t a competition, and if it were, then both he and Aaron had lost.
As Oscar glanced to his left, eyes fixing on the face he’d come to love more than any other he’d ever known, he realized that he had also won. Oscar pressed Aaron’s hand and leaned in, kissing him softly on the temple.
“I’m so excited to meet her,” he murmured, and by the way Aaron melted into him, Oscar knew that something about what he’d said had worked.
For the rest of the ride, Aaron didn’t say a word, but he was no longer fidgeting. Instead, he played with the wild strands of Oscar’s hair, tugged on the strings of his thin hoodie, because Oscar would take any excuse in the world to wear one, and it being mid-September counted.
Fifteen minutes into the ride, Oscar remembered he’d brought headphones, that he’d spent the early morning meticulously cleaning them so he could share with Aaron, but Aaron didn’t even glance to check when he offered; he popped a bud into his ear and rested his head on Oscar’s shoulder. They listened to theCall Me By Your Namesoundtrack, andAaron didn’t even say it was cheesy or corny or that Oscar must just have a crush on Timothée Chalamet, even though Oscar had said a million times that it was Jonathan Bailey for him. Maybe it didn’t help he recommended watchingCall Me By Your Nameevery film night.
For the rest of his life, Oscar would remember listening to“Visions of Gideon”as the bus pulled up in front of the care home and Aaron bristled, fingers twitching and neck stiffening the moment the large vehicle hissed its arrival.
“Is it a vid—” Sufjan Stevens was cut short as Oscar retrieved his earbuds and stuffed them tangled in his pocket.
The air was crisp, the sky a pleasant cornflower blue that matched Aaron’s eyes, and a soft wind blew, tickling Oscar’s neck with his loose waves.
“What about these?” he asked, nudging Aaron in the direction of a stall where a woman was selling bunches of pretty flowers for visitors to take in to their loved ones.
“It’s a rip-off,” Aaron said, eyes snagging on the hefty price tags. He was right, too. Oscar could get flowers like these for half the price from Paulie on a Sunday, but now they were here.
“Would she like them?” Oscar raised his eyebrows at Aaron, casting him a knowing glance.
Aaron shrugged, nodding. Oscar wished he could be the metal rim around his glasses, that he could sit on the bridge of his nose and kiss the space between his eyes.
Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, handing the woman a twenty and picking the sunflowers wrapped in green, passing them to Aaron. There was no need for a thank you. Oscar knew Aaron was grateful, that he was too nervous right now to say it. So Oscar squeezed his hand, and they started walking up the path towards the front doors of the care home where Aaron had been forced tosign in his mother years before he’d ever imagined it would happen.
