Andrew fidgets adorably at the table, and I realize that we are a little family unit. A weird one, but every family is weird. And tonight, for the first time, I take my meds; all of them, gulped down with a glass of water like I'm not the pro I used to be at taking pills. Jon is pleased, and Andrew pretends not to notice and then sneaks off to take his own. He didn't bring anything else, really, just a notebook and a very old wallet. It has a little bit of money in it, and I remember our exchange at the ticket window, that precious few minutes that produced such a timid amount of money.
"Where did you get the money for the ticket?" I demand, in a sort of halfhearted way. I don't want him to say "Prostitution" or something, but I do want an answer.
He scuffs the floor with his shoes.
"Well."
We are all waiting.
"I kind of bought a ticket to here while you were taking pictures, so I sort of already had one. Um. Sorry. I should have said something, but I kind of thought that you might try to leave. I wanted to be able to stick around: and I wanted to meet your folks, since you never met mine."
"Mine are sort of in Egypt."
He glances at Jon, troublingly, and then back at me. He figures it out, and doesn't say anything. Jon asks if he'd like some coffee, or something, and Andrew bellows that he's pooped and will see us in the morning. He departs, trying not to make any noise, and makes lots of noise. Jon kind of laughs a little bit, and I remember just how alike we were. Same sense of humor. Same bad hair. And then he opens his mouth to ask a question, and I realize that I have no clue what it will be.
"How old is, uh, he?"
I tell him that Andrew is twenty four, because he will be in a couple years. Jon squinches up his face and says that he doesn't look it.
"I know. He's cute, though. Like a little kid."
Jon reports that he looks very kissable. I start to laugh and say that he has to, now, and Andrew takes the opportunity to poke his head in and ask for toothpaste, if you've got it handy? When Jon pulls his head away, he says slyly, "Well, that wasn't really toothpaste much, but it cleaned my mouth out!"
I begin laughing, monstrously on the floor, and the two of them are starting to realize how uncomfortable straight-straight (but experimented a little in college) kisses are. They are very uncomfortable.
It is in all realities a normal night. A nice one, even. Jon goes around turning off lights and locking doors, and I go upstairs and read from a very old Seventeen for a while before going back to bed. I feel pleasant and containable, like a Polly Pocket. I even do a few spins in the middle of my room, arms splayed sacrificial-style and head tossed back.