Page 70 of Icarus

Then Icarus settled across from it all, at the kitchen table, and put his head in his hands.

This . . . house, felt homey the way his house did when Angus was gone. Not nearly as much, because it was impossible to make big houses really feel that way. But it was close, with Mr. Black gone and Helios here.

The rain had finally come in overnight and was persisting through the day. It was darker in here than it should be.

Icarus wondered if a younger Helios had ever sat in this room, maybe reading or coloring while his mom cooked dinner.

He looked at the stove and wondered whether Helios thought about what Icarus lived like, when he was gone.

Euphoria

Helios had leaned against the kitchen doorway to watch Icarus as he put away all his prep work for dinner. Didn’t say a single thing, just stared in that meaningful way he did. When Icarus was finished, Helios nodded up the stairs.

The dance room was big. It was the length of Icarus and his dad’s entire apartment with many individual mirrors tacked up against one side of the wall. It looked like it had never been intended to be a dance room but had hastily been transformed into one. The light in here was dim lamplight: dark where Icarus was sitting, bright in the front of the room where Helios was meant to dance.

Helios was fiddling with an old tape player in the corner.

“This piece was choreographed by Alvin Ailey for The Lark Ascending by Ralph Vaughan Williams,” Helios said. “I’m going to do the girl part, because it’s more interesting for a solo dance. Men’s solo parts are mostly about jumping really high, which is fine. But I’m sure you’ll like this better.”

“I don’t mind having to watch you jump around.”

“Getting to, not having to. But shhh.” Helios forced down a smile.

He settled into position. Feet arched, arms outstretched above his head, bent like a willow, strained and taut.

The tape crackled a bit, then swelled out with its rendition of the classical piece. Icarus folded his knees up so he could rest his chin on them, as Helios fluttered his arms and bowed, lark-like.

It was a terribly sad song, sweet and light despite it. Icarus’s eyes tracked Helios’s feet, thinking about the calluses and bandages. He hadn’t known that men could do pointe.

Helios was wearing a T-shirt with the sleeves torn off, and athletic shorts over leggings that ended at the knee. He looked vaguely like he was about to play basketball, which would have been kind of funny, if it weren’t stunning in its contrast.

Helios stretched and spun and reached out his hands, and now that Icarus could see his arms moving in the way they were meant to, he felt so foolish for ever thinking he could have beaten Helios at arm wrestling.

Helios was an athlete. Brilliant in motion, gold in the light of these mid-century modern lamps. It made Icarus want to sigh, long and wistful.

Suddenly, Helios stopped and turned to him.

“This is where the girl part ends and then there’s supposed to be a lift and it turns into a couples dance,” he said, panting. “It’s a beautiful lift, too. You’d have loved it. I can show you later when I get out of here—”

“Can you lift me?” Icarus asked.

“Uh . . . probably?” Helios looked back at the tape player. The song was soaring into some kind of crescendo and it was feeling a bit loud for the space. He jogged over and turned it down very low until it was practically a whisper.

“I can definitely pick you up, but you have to be in a really specific position for a lift and you have to stay very stiff. I . . . won’t let you hit the ground if you wiggle, but we could still get hurt.”

Icarus shook his head. He wanted to know just how strong Helios was. He wanted to be a part of this. “I can do it. Show me how to stand.”

Helios looked a bit doubtful, but he stood next to Icarus facing the mirrors and posed. He put his head back and flung his arms straight behind him at a gentle angle, then turned his feet out and lifted one knee with a foot arched sharply inward.

Icarus looked at him for a moment, then arranged his body the same way. He twisted his hips until he could feel them loosen enough for the turn out and pushed his foot until the ache felt right.

“Like this?”

Helios broke position to check Icarus’s form. He circled him, correcting with soft touches.

“You’ve never done this before?” Helios asked.

“What? No, of course not,” Icarus said crossly. “This is starting to hurt.”