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“Foundation, sorry. And he applied them in the opposite shapes you’re supposed to do to look good,” Caleb explained.
Theo nodded. “Yeah, I watched these makeup videos on contouring, and then I did the opposite. So I made my cheekbones the opposite of pop and my face look flat and my nose look bigger and my mouth smaller and made my skin look all uneven like my face was a lumpy rock!”
He looked incredibly pleased with himself.
“Then I got khakis and a polo shirt, which is scientifically proven to be the ugliest, least remarkable outfit ever invented, and I wore a baggy jacket over it so none of my tattoos would show. Oh, and I wore Caleb’s ugly gardening sneakers. It was perfect! No one noticed me at all!”
Rhys was quietly cracking up. “How long did it take you to, um, dazzle camouflage yourself?”
“Oh, like three hours.”
“Weren’t you hot?” I asked. “In a jacket, in August, in a club full of people?”
“Oh, yeah, I fucking roasted! I’m shocked the makeup didn’t just drip off my face,” Theo said, still grinning. “Totally worth it.”
I smiled at the image of Theo’s camouflage slowly sweating off, revealing him in the crowd of music fans.
“So, the show?” I asked.
“Oh, right! It was this band, Carapace—know them?” The question was clearly directed at Rhys, since I never knew any bands. He shook his head. “All-female metal band—or, no, there was one dude—and the lead singer’s amazing, and their stuff is, like . . . soaring and melodic and harsh and grungy, and the songs are super smart. Like there was this one song, where . . .”
And then Theo was off, dissecting the song down to the bones, and I drifted, letting his words wash over me like the familiar evening breeze. Happy.
* * *
—
Rhys was leaving Tuesday morning, and he spent Monday packing because he’d left it to the last minute, claiming that things took as long as you gave them and there was no point dragging it out over days.
I made list after list of things he’d probably need, driving to the Target in White Plains once and the nearby drugstore twice, even though Rhys insisted he could pick up anything on the road, as if by sending him off with everything he needed, I could somehow guarantee the whole tour would go well.
At home, I double- and triple-checked the lists, and moved the piles around to see how to maximize the space in his duffel bag.
“Baby,” he said finally, cupping my shoulders. “You’re making me nervous. Do you want to go watch TV or read or something?”
“No, sorry. Sorry, I’ll stop.” I didn’t want to be banished from Rhys’s company when he was leaving in the morning, so I curled up in the window seat and sat on my hands when I’d started biting my nails. But after a few more minutes when I couldn’t stop fidgeting, I said, “Maybe I should make dinner.”
“Okay, sure, thanks.”
I nodded and wandered into the kitchen. But we hadn’t gotten anything to grill, and the only things I ever really cooked were boxed mac and cheese and tater tots. Rhys had fits over the way I would eat cold stew from the can or have cheese and crackers for dinner. I couldn’t have Rhys’s last meal before he left be cold cereal and Hot Pockets.
“I’m going out for a minute,” I called up the stairs, truck keys jangling in my shaking hand.
“Okay, take your phone,” Rhys called back.
I called in an order to Rhys’s favorite barbecue joint and drove around aimlessly until it was ready to pick up.
Over barbecued brisket and pulled pork, onion rings, and corn on the cob, Rhys talked like it was any other dinner. Hell, he’d toured often enough with other people that maybe it really was no big deal to him. But I felt the urgency of each minute ticking by, like each sentence I uttered took up time that meant another one couldn’t be.
“I got it,” I said, when Rhys started to clean up. “Go finish your packing.”
The smell of barbecue sauce was overpowering, even after I packed the take-out containers into the trash, so I took the garbage out. The evening air was cool, and the first stars were coming out as the sky darkened.
I’d hated this time of day for as long as I could remember. I felt the slow slide from day into night in my stomach.
I turned my back on the sunset and went to find Rhys. “What can I do?”
“Nothing, I’m done. Just hang with me. Want to go sit outside?”
I didn’t mind dusk so much if I was with Rhys. I nodded. We grabbed a couple of beers and sprawled out.
“Where are you most looking forward to going?” I pictured Rhys’s tour list, which I’d taped to the refrigerator weeks ago. I’d never been anywhere, and I enjoyed hearing Rhys talk about all the places he’d visited.
