“What? No. No. I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous?”
I squinted at him. “Are you sick?”
He growled at me.
I grinned at him.
“Look,” he said gruffly. “I wanted to. Okay. Can I….”
“Can you….”
He looked like he was about to explode. “Do you know how to dance?” he blurted out.
I stared at him.
“Because if you did, and if you wanted to, we could—I mean, it’s fine, right? It’s fine. We can just stand here. Or whatever. That’s fine too.” He fidgeted, tugging at the end of his tie. He looked at me, then away, then back at me.
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” I admitted.
He sighed. “I know. I’m just….”
“Sweating.”
“Would you stop saying that?”
“But. You are.”
“God, you’re such a dick.”
I laughed at him. “Hey, I’m just pointing out—”
“Gordo!”
I turned.
My mother. She beckoned me toward her. Father had said she’d been sick again, that she wouldn’t be coming. He’d dropped me off, saying he’d return later, that he had business to attend to before he would return. I didn’t ask what that business was.
And now she was here, and she had a frail smile on her face. Her hair looked unkempt, and she was wringing her hands.
“Is she okay?” Mark asked. “She’s—”
“I don’t know,” I said. “She wasn’t feeling well earlier and—I’ll go see what she wants. Hold on, okay? I’ll be right back. And maybe you can tell me why you’re in a tie.”
Before I could walk away, he grabbed my hand. I looked back at him. “Be careful, okay?”
“It’s just my mom.”
He let me go.
“Hi,” she said when I reached her. “Hi, sweetheart. Hi, baby. Come here. Can I talk to you? Come here.”
I went, because she was my mother, and I would do anything for her.
She took me by the hand and pulled me around the house. “Where are we—”
“Quiet,” she said. “Hold on. They’ll hear.”
The w