Alexei watched him throw his arm around her shoulder, watched how Carolina seemed to collapse into him as they walked toward the car, her legs unsteady. And then, feeling like he had already seen more than Carolina probably wanted him to see, Alexei shut the door and walked back to the living room.
He truly was fine with a night in with Ben’s parents. The plans for the beginning of the week had always been quiet anyway, before the hectic graduation schedule took effect.
They had spent the last two days exploring Nashville together. Alexei had been to Ben’s favorite coffee shops, tried his favorite ice cream, been to the Ryman. He had seen Ben’s elementary school, looked through old photo albums. Khalil had cut their hair.
Every moment had been enjoyable, letting his body rest, letting his mind capture so many new things. He loved learning about Ben’s world most, more than the sightseeing: who he had been, who he was outside the trail, this full, wondrous feeling that made Alexei’s head spin.
The humidity had been hard to handle.
And there had been moments, over the last few days, when Ben had seemed distracted. Staring into the distance with an odd look on his face, disconnected from the world around him. Which wasn’t like Ben, who was always present, always excited for the next moment. He’d snap out of it eventually, when Alexei put a hand on his arm, returning to Alexei with a smile. But Alexei hoped Ben would talk to him about whatever it was soon. He wondered if Ben was having some conflicted feelings about all the talk about Carolina and Boston University, since he knew Ben felt insecure about his own educational experiences. Even though Alexei wished he wouldn’t.
Even if Ben hadn’t gone to nursing school, even if he worked at the coffee shop for the rest of his life, he would still be Ben. He would still help people. He would still be the best person Alexei had ever known.
But other than the heat, other than whatever was on Ben’s mind, Alexei was almost surprisingly comfortable being here now, more familiar each day with Ben’s family. Iris and Luiz, in particular, welcomed Alexei with open arms, never once making him feel his presence was distracting from Ben’s visit home. On the contrary, Iris acted thrilled Alexei was there, one more person to ply with her food and bubbly conversation. Luiz was quieter, but his eyes were always smiling. Alexei felt calm around him. He would be happy to be a Luiz Caravalho one day, content to be surrounded by the noise and love of his family, the legacy of his small but important life.
So when Carolina had returned home from school today, red faced and in tears instead of being elated about almost being done with high school, Alexei was neither surprised nor disappointed when she had requested a Ben and Ben Only night at their favorite local pizzeria. Iris looked like she was having a harder time with not being invited. But when Carolina had said, “I’ll talk to you later, Ma, I promise, but Ben’s leaving soon. I just want a night with Ben,” she had relented.
“Well, Alexei.” Luiz clapped him on the back after they had finished their dinner of leftover casserole Iris had made the night before. “I know it’s only Tuesday, but since you’re our special guest, I’ll roll out the full Friday night Caravalho experience.” Luiz moved to kneel in front of their TV stand as he spoke, riffling through a number of DVDs in one of the lower cabinets. “I’m thinking maybeCover Girl? Haven’t watched that one in a while. Unless you have a favorite musical of your own?”
“If you don’t like musicals, you can say so,” Iris muttered in Alexei’s ear before she settled into an armchair with a glass of wine and a library book. “No other genre of film exists in my husband’s mind. But I presume most young people have an appreciation for things set after the 1950s.”
“Cover Girlis ’40s, not ’50s,” Luiz said.
“That doesn’t actually change my point, amor.”
“Musicals are fine,” Alexei said, sitting on the couch. Delilah jumped up after him, nuzzling her head in his lap. “Although I don’t know if I’ve ever actually watched one.”
“Ever?” Luiz looked over at him in shock, hand frozen over the DVD player. “Not evenSingin’ in the Rain?West Side Story?The Sound of Music?”
This was all more than Alexei had previously heard Luiz say at one time. Which inspired him to ramble a bit himself.
“Maybe?” He shrugged. “I didn’t watch TV or movies growing up. Even now, I mostly watch documentaries. Maybe one of those has been on PBS at some point?”
“Well,” Luiz said, “this makes me rethink the whole thing. We should probably start you onTop Hat. OrGuys and Dolls, at the very least.”
“Luiz,” Iris scolded. “You already haveCover Girlout of the case. And if you make me watchGuys and Dollsone more time, I just might scream.”
“Fine,” Luiz sighed, but there was no heat in it, just as Alexei suspected Iris wouldn’t actually scream at her husband. Considering she likely wasn’t going to watch whatever they chose anyway, as she already had her library book cracked open, reading glasses perched on her nose.
“I am sixty-five percent sure I’ve seen at least part ofThe Sound of Music,” Alexei mused, trying to reach through his memories to find a tenuous connection with Luiz Caravalho.
“I’m sixty-five percent sure most people alive have seen at least part ofThe Sound of Music,” Luiz said, pressing Play on the remote. “Cover Girl, though, is Gene Kelly and Rita Hayworth. You can’t go wrong.”
As the opening credits began, Luiz unfolded the legs of a card table that had been hiding behind Iris’s chair. He set it in front of the couch before retrieving a rolled-up swath of green fabric, also from behind Iris’s chair.
“And now for the real entertainment of the evening,” Luiz said grandly, or at least as grandly as Luiz Caravalho probably said anything. “Like I said, Friday night special.”
That was when the unease started to creep into Alexei’s good mood.
“You don’t have to do that, either,” Iris said from behind her book. “Those things drive me batty.”
“No,” Alexei said faintly as Luiz arranged the mat on the table. He cleared his throat. “I like puzzles.”
Truer to the point, Alexei loved puzzles.
Alexei used to do puzzles with his family all the time. In particular, with his mother. They drove Alina batty, too, and their dad simply never tried that hard. But Alexei and his mother could sit and work on puzzles for hours.
Sometimes they would talk as they worked; sometimes they listened to classical music; sometimes they sat in silence. She always let Alexei work on the border first while she sorted, quietly pushing the right pieces his way. Later, once the border had been completed, they would each attack different parts of the picture. But she would keep finding pieces for him, always keeping an eye out for what he was doing while she worked on the clouds, the more difficult splashes of solid color. They were a team.
