This fact had a strange effect on Jack. From where he was standing at the counter, he flicked me a couple of puzzled, grateful looks, like I had just given him a surprise present. The barstool I was sitting on was one of those retro diner ones with a red padded seat. It could swivel all the way around. I pushed off the floor with one foot and started the stool slowly spinning. The stainless steel refrigerator went by . . . the window filled with lawn . . . the five-ring stove . . . the rack with hanging pans of every size . . . Any second he would come into view and I would have to reckon with Jack again, with having told him about Antonio.

Two things happened at once. The empty counter swung by with no Jack leaning on it, which meant he had gone away and I would never see him again, and Jack was behind me, reappeared as if by magic in a new form. Big and near. Turning me. I tilted up my face and shut my eyes. But no one kissed me. Instead I was gripped by what felt more like wings than arms and my face was squashed into his neck. Being so close that I could feel the heat of him and smell his grassy smell was as good as anything that had happened to me in a long time. But why didn’t he want to kiss me? Lost his nerve? Afraid of catching what I had? Seconds ticked by. Do something!

I laughed and pulled away.

His arms dropped. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!”

He went to the fridge and held the door open, peering into the lighted interior. It was lonely having him so far away again. I went over and touched his arm that was propping open the fridge door.

“Nothing’s funny, Jack.”

He shrugged my hand off, a little more gently than he’d done to his father. “Hungry?” he asked, letting the door swing shut.

“Not really. I might need to go.”

“Right.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you.”

“Right.”

“At myself, more like.”

“No need for that,” Jack said stiffly.

I was afraid to touch him. “Friends?”

A fake smile was all I got back.

Hi Antonio,