Page 101 of Angel of Thursdays

“That’s ridiculous,” Cassiel said, and because May couldn’t argue, he fidgeted. The milk crate dug uncomfortably into his ass as he shifted.

“You can’t put me back together again,” May said, after a few seconds of silence.

“I have no intention of doing that. Because you’re not an egg.”

May mused on that for a moment longer.

“You came to find me.”

“Yes,” said Cassiel. “Game’s over.”

There was no pause before it. May had asked the question and Cassiel had answered immediately. May would think about that later, he knew. He would be thinking about it many times.

* * *

They walked out of Lau Kee at half past four into Chinatown. The sun was setting earlier than it should have. The streetlights had not yet come on but the buildings on the east side were already in shadow.

May had not asked Cassiel if he wanted to come to his apartment and Cassiel had not asked May where they were going. They were walking, which was the agreement, and May’s hand was in Cassiel’s coat pocket because his own pockets were small.

“How long can you stay?” May asked, when they were halfway down Stockton.

“Where?”

“Just, here. Chinatown. Before it’s unbearable.”

“Historically, forty minutes. Today, I think longer.” Cassiel was walking with his head tilted slightly toward May. “I had something to do here.”

“That’s dangerously romantic.”

Cassiel looked away, in the direction of the buildings, his face careful and impassive. “Retracted.”

“No, no, you can’t. I’m keeping it.” May tugged the pocket. “You hear me? I’m keeping it. It’s in print.”

Cassiel didn’t say anything. The clip clicked in the other pocket. Snap. Click. May listened to it the way he used to listen for the beads on the little ring. It wasn’t quite the same, but it was its own thing, and May had been a part of that.

They reached the bus stop on Sacramento Street. The 1 California pulled up before they had to wait. It wasn’t May’s usual commute home, but that didn’t matter. May got on first and Cassiel followed and they sat hidden in the back like a couple of teenagers. May leaned his shoulder against Cassiel’s, breathed in the dumb cologne, and thought about nothing for a few stops.

The bus rocked through the streets, sunlight falling through the gaps in the buildings. Cassiel’s hand found May’s again on the seat between them and stayed there.

“Hide-and-go-seek,” May said, eventually.

“Yes.”

“You were the kid who never got found either.”

Cassiel paused. “No one wanted to play with me. I don’t think they looked very hard.”

May pictured serious little Minseok with his tidy clothes and furrowed brow, tried to reason whether little Wuyue might have tried. Maybe they would have found the same perfect hiding place. Maybe they could have crouched there together, silently, waiting to be found, not realizing the game had already ended.

“So, we’re both screwed,” May said.

“Hm,” Cassiel agreed.

24

MAY

THE TWENTY-SIXTH THURSDAY