Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

There are some words I’ll never learn to spell.

I was smiling the rest of the day. Sometimes, all you have to do is tell people the truth. They won’t believe you. After that, they’ll leave you alone.

He wanted to get to know us. Of course, he did. New teachers, I always felt sorry for them. They tried too hard. It embarrassed me.

I PICKED UP MY JOURNAL AND THUMBED THROUGH it. I studied my handwriting. I had lousy handwriting. Nobody could read it but me. That was the good news.

I learned how to swim this summer. No, that’s not true. Someone taught me. Dante. I tore out the page.

She had an interesting look on her face. I recognized that look. My mom, she sometimes resided in the space between irony and sincerity. That was part of her charm.

THE SECOND DAY OF SCHOOL. NORMAL. EXCEPT THAT after school as I waited for my mom, this girl, Ileana, came up to me. She took out a marker and wrote her name on one of my casts. She looked into my eyes. I wanted to look away. But I didn’t.

Her eyes were like the night sky in the desert. It felt like there was a whole world living inside her. I didn’t know anything about that world.

That night I had a bad dream. I was driving down a street in my pickup. Ileana was sitting right next to me. I looked over and smiled at her. I didn’t see him, Dante, standing in the middle of the road. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. When I woke up, I was drenched in sweat.

“You miss Dante?” I looked at her. “I don’t know.” “How can you not know?” “Well, look, Mom, it’s, well, Dante, he’s like you. I mean, he hovers sometimes.” She didn’t say anything.

“I like being alone, Mom. I know you don’t get that about me, but I do.” She nodded and it seemed like she was really listening. “You were screaming his name last night,” she said. “Oh,” I said. “It was just a dream.” “Bad?” “Yeah.” “You want to talk about it?” “Not really.”

“You and your father, you’re fighting your own private wars.”

“Maybe so. I hate my dreams.” I could feel my mom listening to me. She was always there. I hated her for that. And loved her. “I was driving my truck and it was raining. I didn’t see him standing in the middle of the road. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t.” “Dante?” “Yeah.”

“Do you think I’m mean?” “I think you’re strict. Too strict sometimes.” “I’m sorry.” “No you’re not.” I clutched at my crutches. “Someday, I’m going to have to break some of your rules, Mom.” “I know,” she said. “Try to do it behind my back, will you?’ “You can bet on that, Mom.”

“You can’t help what you dream.” “I know. I didn’t mean to run over him.” “You didn’t. It was just a dream.” I didn’t tell her that I hadn’t been paying attention. I’d been looking at a girl when I should have been driving. And that’s why I ran over Dante. I didn’t tell her that.

If dreams don’t come from nowhere, then what does it mean that I ran over Dante in my dream? What does it mean that I had that dream again? Both times I was staring at Ileana when I ran over Dante. Okay, this is not good. The air is leaking out. I don’t want to think about this.

It was strange to feel like the Ari I used to be. Except that wasn’t totally true. The Ari I used to be didn’t exist anymore. And the Ari I was becoming? He didn’t exist yet.

Maybe my dad just didn’t need words to get by in the world. I wasn’t like that. Well, I was like that on the outside, pretending not to need words. But I wasn’t like that on the inside.

I’d figured something out about myself: on the inside, I wasn’t like my dad at all. On the inside I was more like Dante. That really scared me.

When I did write back, my letters were short. His letters were never short. He was still experimenting with kissing girls even though he said he’d rather be kissing boys. That’s exactly what he said. I didn’t know exactly what to think about that, but Dante was going to be Dante and if I was going to be his friend, I would just have to learn to be okay with it.

Dante’s life was way more complicated than mine—at least when it came to kissing boys or girls.

And he said: “You should try. It’s fantastic. You know we could score some and go out into the desert in your truck and, you know, get high. It’s sweet. So sweet, dude.” And I said: “I’m really into chocolate.” And he said: “What the fuck are you talking about?” And I said: “Sweet. You said sweet. I think I’ll get my sweet from chocolate.”

And I said, “Why don’t you get someone else to do drugs with you, vato?” I figured the guy was lonely. But he didn’t have to be an asshole about it. And he said, “You’re gay, vato, you know that?” What the hell was the guy talking about? I was gay because I didn’t want to shoot up heroin? And then I said: “Yeah, I’m gay and I want to kiss you.” And then he got this really disgusted look on his face and said: “I ought to kick your ass.” And I said: “Go ahead.”

What do you want, Ari? That’s what I kept asking myself. Maybe it was the beer. What do you want, Ari? And then I answered myself: “A life.” “What’s a life, Ari?” “Like I know the answer to that?” “Deep inside you know, Ari.” “No, I don’t.” “Shut up, Ari.” So I did shut up. And then the thought entered my head that I’d like to kiss someone. It didn’t matter who. Anyone. Ileana.

When I hung up the phone, I felt a little sad. And a little happy. For a few minutes I wished that Dante and I lived in the universe of boys instead of the universe of almost-men.

Seven to one. That’s the ratio of Dante Letters to Ari Letters. Just so you know. When I get back this summer, I’m going to take you swimming and drown you. Almost drown you. Then I’ll give you mouth-to-mouth and revive you. How does that sound? Sounds good to me. Am I freaking you out yet?

So on the business of kissing. This girl who’ve I’ve been experimenting with. I mean with the kisses. She’s a good kisser. She’s taught me a lot in that department. But she finally said to me, “Dante, I think that when you kiss me, you’re kissing someone else.” “Yeah,” I said. “Guess so.” “Are you kissing another girl? Or are you kissing a boy?” I thought that was a very interesting and forward question. “A boy,” I said. “Anyone I know?” she asked. “No,” I said. “I think I’m just making up a boy in my head.”

The thing is I love my dad. My mom too. And I keep wondering what they’re going to say when I tell them that someday I want to marry a boy. I wonder how that’s going to go over? I’m the only son. What’s going to happen with the grandchildren thing? I hate that I’m going to disappoint them, Ari. I know I’ve disappointed you too.

“Do you think we’ll ever discover all the secrets of the universe?” I was surprised to hear Susie’s voice answering my question. “That would be a beautiful thing, wouldn’t it, Ari?” “Yeah.” I whispered, “Really beautiful.”