Page 59 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

“I’m surprised it isn’t colder tonight,” Alex said. “This is nice. Or maybe it’s the beer.”

We laughed softly together.

“It feels,” I said, once again letting words slip from my brain before I could stop them, “that the universe is inconsistent. Like…things go right. Things go wrong. Things get worse. Then a little better…and then things just…stand still. I feel like I’m standing still.”

“Hm?”

“I’m in stasis,” I explained. “I can’t do this for an entire year. I need a purpose.”

“We all need a purpose, sure,” Alex said.

“Do you believe in God?” I asked.

When I realized what I said, I crooked my head to look at Alex, prepared to apologize for such a question. However, when our eyes met, as he turned his head away from the sky to look over at me, he was smiling.

“Well, sure,” he said.

That easy. That simple. No question was too personal or odd for Alex. In fact, the more personal or odd a question, the more he seemed to enjoy it.

“I just wouldn’t give him a great performance review. All twos. Needs improvement,” he said. “On a good day, maybe all threes. Meets expectations.”

I couldn’t help but smile at him. No one had ever explained how I felt, but hadn’t known I felt that way, so simply before. Alex, for all of his jokes and quips, could be profound. As quickly as he’d fire off a joke, he’d be philosophical. But not pretentiously so. As I stared at him across the table, I wondered if there would ever be enough time in someone’s life to learn all there was in Alex’s head.

“My grandmother used to tell me to be good to the universe and it would be good back,” I said softly, not really talking to Alex, but not really not talking to Alex. “I think that I’ve been good. I’ve tried. But I feel it’s ignoring me. I don’t feel like it’s sending anything to me.”

“Your grandmother didn’t tell you shipping costs extra?”

“Huh?”

“It’s not enough to be good,” Alex said, tamping out his cigarette. “Sit around and be good all you want, Enzo. See what it does for you. But sometimes you have to go out and find what you want for yourself.”

“Meaning what?”

“Be good, but take no shit,” he said. “Where do you want to work? Show up there. Give your application to someone who matters. Tell them you will do any job they have. You just need to work. Don’t let them tell you ‘no’ without having to look you in the eyes. Don’t let them ignore you. It’s okay if people tell you ‘no,’ but it’s not okay to let them ignore you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.”

Sighing again, Alex shifted in his chair, as though preparing to rise.

“Well,” he said, smiling at me. I think it’s time I head back down to Rochester. It’s an hour and a half and it’s getting late, so—”

“You’ve been drinking,” I found myself stammering, upset that Alex was going to leave. “You shouldn’t drive.”

He snorted. “One Pabst two hours ago? I think I’ll be fine. Besides, this is Minnesota. I could drink twelve PBRs and still be within the legal limit, I’m sure.”

When Alex started to rise from his chair, I found myself desperate for him to stay.

“I don’t have any friends,” I said, the words slipping out effortlessly again.

Alex froze, halfway out of his chair, and stared at me.

“If you leave,” I said, my eyes darting around, “I won’t have anyone interesting to talk to. I’ll have to go inside and make conversation with Peter’s other friends. I’ll essentially be alone. Please stay.”

Alex stared at me a moment longer, then eased himself back into his chair.