All the Way to Heaven

Chapter 29

"Hello, Ani." Paulo. In a tight pink shirt and rust-colored jeans. And the clashing color combination looked really good on him. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but you should not leave your computer out like this if you are going to fall asleep."

"I wasn't asleep." Why? Why did he have to show up and ruin my nice, relaxing afternoon?

"Of course not. But you looked like you might be. And that would make someone believe you were an easy target." He was laughing at me. And this time I didn't care for it even one iota.

I sat forward, gathered my laptop and the notebook I'd been using into my computer bag, and tucked it all firmly into the space between my thigh and the armrest of my chair. Then I pulled out my novel, wishing with all my heart that Isa would come motoring around the corner, honking her way down the street to rescue me.

"I'm sorry. Did you need something from me, Paulo? Or did you just stop by to point out the fact that I'm an American idiot?"

"Ah! I like that song. You listen to Green Day? For some reason I am not surprised." He reached for one of the paper bags on the table between us. "Did Crina give you one of her priceless bags of reject pastries?" He opened it and poked around inside before I reached over and grabbed it from him.

"Did you touch them all with your unwashed hands?" Good grief. I sounded like a jerk.

"Not all of them. But you will have to guess which ones." He leaned back in his chair and licked his fingers.

"Take them. They're yours, now." I folded the top over and plopped the bag back in the middle of the table.

"Ani."

"Don't 'Ani' me. It's obvious I'm just a rock in your shoe, so why don't you do us both a favor and tell me what you want from me. And I like Green Day but I don't listen to them. I would if they didn't drop the F-bomb so much, but I loathe that word." I could feel my head beginning to bob. No, no, no! Stop talking, Ani! "There are better words to use to get a point across, you know, even if you are a punk. The English language is simply overflowing with adjectives and adverbs, yet we choose to limit our vocabulary to vulgar four-letter expostulations. It's just indicative of lazy, apathetic thinkers, in my opinion."

"In your opinion," he repeated sternly, his eyes wide at my rant.

"Yep." I looked away, mollified that I'd at least temporarily stymied him.

"Okay. I will not ask to borrow any of your Green Day albums. Nor will I use that word around you. I, too, loathe it, and I do not use it. Ever." He reached for the bag between us, pulled out a cookie and took a bite. "Not ever," he reiterated, after he had swallowed.

"Well, good. Apparently, we have something in common after all. Well, other than the fact that we're. Both. Americans."

He had just taken another bite of cookie and burst out laughing, but his laughter turned to coughing as he choked on the cookie. I sat there for a moment, wondering if he was just pulling my leg, but then realized when his eyes started watering that he was really having a hard time catching his breath.

"Here. Wash it down with this." I pushed my half-empty water glass toward him. "It's carbonated so be careful."

He nodded his thanks, unable to speak, and took a huge gulp. A few more sputters and coughs, a couple more smaller sips, and the water was gone, the chunk dislodged, and a red-faced, teary-eyed Paulo sat across from me, still trying not to laugh.

"That'll teach you to steal my cookies."

"I did not steal them! You gave them to me," he croaked.

"Yeah, after you got your boy cooties all over them. What choice did I have?"

He chuckled again, picked up my glass, and stood up. "Listen, Ani. I only stopped by to pick up a few pastries to take to a meeting this afternoon. I did not know you were here. I did not come just to disturb you, I promise." His expression softened. "I will ask Madalina for more water for you, and I will replace your cookies, okay?"

"So how do you and Madalina know each other?" The question popped out of me like a jack-in-the-box, and I looked away, wishing I didn't care what the answer was. Isa had seemed pretty certain Paulo and Madalina weren't dating, but they definitely had something going between them.

He hesitated before answering, and I braced myself for an explanation I didn't want to hear. "We attend the same church. She is good friends with the mother of one of the boys I work with."

That was it? There had to be more he wasn't telling me; they seemed awfully chummy for church people. "Never mind. It's none of my business." I narrowed my eyes at him, wishing I wasn't always so off my game around him. I didn't feel the need to impress him. It was just that he always seemed to get me at my worst. Lost and scared on the train, battered and bloodied in the park, drunk and disorderly at dinner, and now soapboxing about language that neither one of us used. What a piece of work he must think I am. None of it was his fault, but I wanted it to be.

He said nothing, infuriating me further.

"More water would be nice." My words were polite but my tone was clipped, dismissing him. Then I opened my novel to where it was marked with a photo booth strip of Tish and me taken several weeks ago at Disneyland. For my birthday, since Jerkob had bombed Brigatines for us, we had pooled our resources and taken each other to the happiest place on earth to try to cheer me up. The pictures of us in our Mickey Mouse ears and Toy Story ray guns gave all appearances that it worked. Paulo disappeared inside the shop.

I ran my fingers over our laughing faces. I missed her fiercely just now.

"Here you go." Paulo returned, water and a fresh bag of goodies as promised in hand. "It is a new cup, too. I told Pops to take your old cup and burn it in the alley to kill the boy germs."

"Thank you." I kept my expression serious. "Not just for the water and cookies, but also for doing your part to help disease control."

He extended a leg and took a bow. I snorted, raised my book to indicate how busy I was, lowered my eyes, and pretended to read. He took a few steps away, then turned back around and rocked on his heels a few times, his own bag of pastries clutched in both hands behind him. Finally, I looked over at him. He stood just past the edge of the awning and the sun on his dark hair gave it a blueish sheen. His shoulders covered in the pale pink shirt glowed in the afternoon light.

"Yes?"

"Are you waiting for someone, Ani?"

"For Isa, yes. She's running some errands, then she's coming back to get me so I can go for my X-rays. To see if I can start putting weight on my leg yet. Why?"

"Oh, yes. Today is your follow up with Dr. Lazzaro. I forgot." He fell silent. I took a sip of the cold bubbly water he'd set in front of me, giving him time to speak, but he still said nothing.

"Okay." I drew the second syllable out for effect. What was he hemming and hawing about? "Is there anything else you want to know about me? Or were you actually being friendly and making sure I wasn't stranded here all alone?"

His eyes darkened a little at that, and I wished I could take it back. It wasn't like me to be so rude. "You know, Ani, you do not make it easy to be your friend. I am sorry I am not suave like your Cosimo, but I do not believe I am the bad guy that you think I am. I will leave you to your book." He started to walk away.

I wanted to call out an apology, but the words got caught in a jumble in my throat.

"By the way," he said, turning around to look at me one more time from the middle of the street. His voice carried, echoing off the walls of the buildings surrounding us. "You look exceptionally beautiful again today, Ani." He dipped his head briefly, and then sauntered off down the road.

I read the same paragraph four times before Ifinally gave up and put the book away. Opening the bag he'd left for me, Igrabbed the first thing I touched. It was the same kind of cookie Paulo had chokedon. I returned it to the bag and took a sip from my boy-germ-free glass ofwater instead.