Theo felt something he couldn’t name pressing down on his breastbone; he whispered, “Oh, fuck.”
“Auggie,” Theo said when he got to the steps. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi,” Auggie said, his grin getting bigger. “Good morning.”
“Good morning. What are you doing here?”
“You’re all dressed up for Saturday morning. Did you have an important meeting or something?”
“Yes,” Theo said. “I’d like you to answer my question, please.”
“Oh, sorry. I know this is weird. Please don’t think I’m crazy. I just . . . I was thinking about Robert. Thinking about this whole, weird mess. And I realized I didn’t thank you for helping me yesterday.”
“Yes, you did,” Theo said. “You said thank you.”
“But, I wanted to show you how much I appreciated it. So I thought I could stop by, we could talk things over, see what our next move is, and then I could buy you lunch.” Auggie opened his arms innocently: “Just lunch. Just a thank you.”
Theo wiped sweat from his forehead. Down the street—which was saying something, out in the boonies, where the next house was on its own acre lot—Mrs. Rudock was calling for Barnabus, their dog. She sounded royally mad.
“Auggie,” he finally said.
“Please don’t say no. Look, I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting in the dorm all day, and I’m freaked out because those guys might come back, and I know if we work together on this, we can find Robert. And then it’ll be over, and I’ll leave you alone.” Auggie flashed another smile, more tentative this time. “Please?”
“I’m your instructor.”
“Please, Theo.”
“This really isn’t a good idea.”
“Please. I swear, I will not take advantage of you.”
In spite of Theo’s best efforts, an eyebrow went up.
“I mean—no, I didn’t mean—” A blush worked its way across Auggie’s face. “Oh my God, that is not what I was trying to say.”
“So, my honor is safe?”
Auggie tried the smile again. “I meant, you know, with grades. This is separate from class, I get that.”
Suddenly, it was hard for Theo to remember why the morning had seemed so bad. Downing, the bike, the long, hot walk—they all seemed smaller now.
He passed Auggie on the steps, unlocked the door, and went inside.
“Uh,” Auggie said from the doorway, playing with the screen door, the thin aluminum making its sing-song warble as he worked it open and shut. “Am I supposed to stay out here?”
Theo kicked off his shoes, gave the living room a glance—chaotically messy, yes, and he shoved some of Lana’s toys into the corner—and then took the stairs. He called back as he went, “You already stalked me this far. I don’t think it really matters what I say at this point.”
Upstairs, two bedrooms were tucked under the eaves: a larger room that Theo and Ian had shared, and the smaller room that had been Lana’s. Theo unbuttoned the oxford, tossed it in the hamper, and checked the white undershirt, which looked pit-stain free and probably cleaner than anything else at the moment. He tossed the chinos in the hamper as well, tried to decide appropriate wear for an extremely hot eighteen-year-old student who had tracked him to his home, and settled on running shorts. He ditched his socks, looked at Ian’s clutter still taking up the top of the dresser and half the bed. A t-shirt Ian had taken off at the last minute before they left for St. Louis. A pair of Under Armor socks Ian had balled up and forgotten to pack. Ian’s cologne—something Burberry. The polished wooden tray where Ian had kept his watch and wallet was empty now; the mortuary had returned them, of course, but they were in plastic baggies somewhere in the basement; Theo hadn’t been able to stand the thought of touching them again. He turned off the light and headed downstairs.
Auggie was perched on the edge of the couch, in between a stack of books of Shakespeare criticism on the one side and, on the other, the crown jewels: empty Big Wave bottles, a bottle of Percocet, and half a joint.
“Jesus Christ,” Theo said, grabbing the pills and the joint and throwing them in a drawer.
“This is a really nice house,” Auggie said, still sitting on the couch like he thought it was spring loaded and might launch him into the air if he sat back any farther.
“Don’t,” Theo said, flipping on the window unit.
“It’s cute,” Auggie said.
“I said don’t.”
Auggie stared at him, his expression slightly hurt.
Theo went into the kitchen, got a glass of water from the tap, and drank it. He looked out at the deck. He looked past the deck to the tree line of old growth. A fox darted behind a blackberry bush, the branches waving, and then Theo thought of the beers he had picked up with Ian, the table Ian had refinished, the floors Ian had stripped and sanded. He pressed the glass, cold and empty, to his forehead.
“Do you want me to come in there?” Auggie said.
Theo went to the opening that joined the kitchen and living room. “I think this was a mistake. You should go.”
“What? Why?”
“Auggie, please. This is not a good idea.”
“Is it about the joint? Because I don’t care. And I won’t say anything.”
“I’ve had a really, really bad day. This morning, I had to—you know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. But then I came back, and somebody had stolen the wheel off my bike, and I had to walk. And I’m so fucking sick of walking, but the minute I sit down behind the wheel of a car, I have a fucking panic attack. And I’m realizing, right now, that you are my student and I am talking like a crazy person.” Theo rubbed his hip, where it was already aching. “It’s been a really bad year, ok? I’ll help you on this stuff because I know you need help. But I think it’d be better if you go.”
Auggie’s gaze went to the plastic train in the corner, the dolls in their misbuttoned dresses, the toy shopping basket with plastic carrots and milk cartons and muffins. When he looked back at Theo, his dark eyes were wet.
“Please don’t say you’re sorry,” Theo said, unable to stop himself. “If you say that, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Auggie’s adam’s apple bobbed, and he wiped his eyes.
“Hang out in the library,” Theo said. “Or at the student union. Find somewhere you feel safe. In a few days, we’ll figure this out, and it’ll be over, ok?”
Auggie stood and held out his hand. “Keys.”
“What?”
“Give me your keys.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to get your bike.”
“I don’t want you to get my bike. I want you to leave.”
“You can either give me your keys, or I can walk to a hardware store, buy bolt cutters, and do it that way.”
“This isn’t about the bike, ok? I just—that was just an example.”