CHAPTER 16
ON the steps outside the Field Museum, Neen’s ring gets stuck in Liyah’s hair. “C-J, hold still!”
“Just take it off, we’ll detangle or cut it out after,” Liyah says.
“I can’t,” they huff. “Do you have any butter?”
“Why would I have brought butter on the train? And where do you think I would keep it?” She gestures down at her outfit. No bag because Angela Davis did not have one in her interview from California state prison. No pockets, either.
Neen tries a new angle, and Liyah yelps, jerking her head toward their hand to avoid a rip. “I’m sorry!” they shout.
Liyah, fed up, grabs Neen’s arm and twirls them in a distorted ballroom dance, slowly unwinding her picked-out ’fro from one of their many rings. “I don’t know why you insisted on wearing those. They don’t go with your outfit,” she says. Since the sleep-in was on Halloween, Liyah and Daniel decided to make it a costume party. The decades theme was Liyah’s idea. She wanted some semblance of a connection to the general concept of history. Neen and Liyah are the 1970s from different corners of the world: Liyah in the iconic orange turtleneck, brown tweed skirt, and orange tights of Dr. Davis’s 1972 interview, Neen looking like they’ve stepped directly out of an early ’70s Bollywood film. Except for their collection of modern rings, of course.
“It’s my signature!”
“You know, it’s a wonder you haven’t lost one of those inside of someone yet.”
Neen laughs. “Oh, I didn’t tell you that story?”
Liyah shudders. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
Inside, they make a beeline for the taxidermy African elephants in the lobby, the agreed meeting spot. The others are already there, in full costume.
“Glad you finally showed up,” Siobhan says as they approach. “Since I got here, I’ve learned that Jordan is not, in fact, dressed as Aladdin, and received a lecture on eighties pop rap.”
“Liyah couldn’t be on time if her life depended on it,” Daniel says.
“This is an obvious MC Hammer costume. Come on, the gold jacket!”
“It’s not even my fault this time, I had to detach Neen from my hair!” Liyah protests.
“Why is Jordan shirtless?” Neen asks.
“I’m MC Hammer!”
Daniel laughs. “It’s a little cold out for that.”
Jordan crosses his arms over his bare chest. “There’s central heating here, man. Y’all are mean.”
“I see Daniel is serving Danny Zuko realness,” Neen says. “And Siobhan is a wonderful Bubbles.”
Siobhan curtsies. “Thank you.”
Yes, wonderful heterosexual Bubbles, Liyah wishes she could remind Neen. “Gorgeous. Also, not on theme.”
“The Powerpuff Girls premiered in 1998. I’m the nineties.”
“And Liyah, you’re a … go-go girl?” Jordan asks.
The entire group gawks at Jordan. “You’re an idiot,” Daniel says. “She’s obviously Angela Davis.”
“My bad, she’s wearing tall boots!”
“They’re era appropriate.” Liyah holds up her hands, pausing. “You know what? I give up. Daniel, photo booth?”
He looks down at her, pulling the unlit cigarette from the side of his mouth and tucking it into the leather jacket he probably borrowed from Alex. “I’m afraid to leave these three unsupervised.”
“As you should be. But leave them, we must.”
Liyah isn’t sure if the event idea was really that good, or if she’s just overdue for some good karma, but there are three times the attendees of the failed wine night. Almost all are dressed to theme, and the line at the photo booth seems never-ending. Liyah would regret the decision to run it herself (thanks be to Jeff) if she weren’t feeling the high of the merriment around her.
She holds Siobhan’s DSLR while Daniel uploads each photograph to the appropriate decade category. QR codes pepper the exhibits, advertising the voting period, after which the annual membership winners will be announced. By nine, there are 1,534 pictures up, and even though the way Liyah’s ’fro partially obscures her eyesight is driving her crazy (her cut is most definitely not designed to be picked out) and Daniel’s pompadour is slightly deflated, they’re both smiling from ear to ear.
Before they pack up the station, they send a summons in the SSC group chat. The others are tipsy from visits to the bar set up under the hanging Pterosaur, and getting a picture with all of them in frame proves a nearly insurmountable challenge. But they get one, eventually. Jordan lies on the floor in front with his head propped up on his hand, a knee pointed skyward to emphasize the low crotch of his harem pants. Siobhan is behind his head, bent at the knees and blowing a kiss to the camera (which has the added benefit of revealing some truly excellent cleavage). Neen stands at Jordan’s feet, arms outstretched mid-dance. And Daniel and Liyah are sandwiched between them, Liyah doing her best to imitate Angela Davis’s inquisitive head tilt while staring down the camera, Daniel’s elbow on her shoulder as he withdraws a cigarette from parted lips.
Liyah runs back after the timer-triggered shutter clicks, looking down at the display. She grins, hugging the camera to her chest.
Neen prances toward her, demanding to see. Liyah releases her grip to show them, and they wolf whistle before shouting, “We are so hot!”
Jordan and Siobhan huddle around them, pointing and laughing at details on the tiny screen. A giddy warmth spreads through Liyah’s chest; she’s already drunk on the old-fashioned she’s yet to order. Daniel looks at her from behind their friends, and the corner of his mouth tugs upward. She holds his gaze, and that feeling spreads further, until she’s bursting with it.
Daniel’s eyes dip to her mouth. He absently pinches his bottom lip between his forefinger and thumb, and she can feel it, just as she had felt his fingers along her tongue at Windy City. Her pulse quickens. She looks away. Jordan and Siobhan are still absorbed in the camera, but Neen’s head is up, eyes pointed directly at her.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Liyah announces. “See you guys downstairs.” She hurries away, Neen undoubtedly at her heels.
Inside the bathroom, they follow her, stomping, into a stall. “Neen,” she complains. “I do actually have to pee.”
They fold their arms across their chest. “Okay then, drop your tights. It’s not anything I haven’t seen before.” Liyah’s ass is barely on the toilet seat when they say, “Please don’t kill me, but this is the part where I bring up Daniel.”
“What, find something you liked in his birth chart?” Liyah smirks, desperately trying to maintain control of the conversation. Which is difficult, given that she’s actively urinating.
“It feels like, speaking as a completely objective third-party observer with absolutely no personal interest in the matter,” they say, quoting She’s the Man, the pair’s favorite sleepover film, “there might be something there beyond a mistaken grieving kiss.”
Liyah scowls. “Doubt it.”
“C-J, come on. You flirt with each other like it’s breathing. And those brooding looks—you could cut the tension with a knife. I don’t know how Jordan and Siobhan put up with it every week.”
“I think they’re busy with other things,” Liyah mutters.
“A friend with benefits would be a nice change for you.”
“I only ever have friends with benefits,” Liyah protests, reaching for the toilet paper.
“No, you only ever have benefits with benefits. Besides, he’s like, stupidly good-looking. Heterosexual Nico Kim with better taste in clothes and a considerably boring-er job.” Liyah would say that the jury’s still out on Daniel’s clothing taste, but Neen is also no stranger to a wildly printed button-down.
“I literally have no idea who you’re talking about.”
Neen’s eyes go wide as if Liyah’s confusion is unimaginable, pulling out their phone. “The hot orthopedic surgeon on Grey’s!”
Liyah rolls her eyes. “If this is all an elaborate ruse to get me to watch your medical dramas, it’s not going to work.”
“You’ll want to watch every episode when you see Dr. Kim.” They waggle their eyebrows, shoving the phone in front of Liyah’s face.
The man on the screen makes royal-blue scrubs look much better than they ought to. His hair is straight, smile too symmetrical, and there’s no bend in his nose, but Liyah begrudgingly admits that there’s more than a passing resemblance in his eyes and jaw. “Fine, whatever. I can sorta see it.”
“See! Stupidly good-looking.”
“If you think so, then why don’t you sleep with him?” Liyah retorts.
“A whole list of reasons, starting with he’s a man and ending with he’d probably slip up and moan your name and then I’d be traumatized for life.” Despite herself, Liyah laughs. “Look, at this point, it’s bound to happen. And if it doesn’t, it’s a missed opportunity.”
“Yeah, yeah. He’s cute, but he’s a friend.”
Neen clucks their tongue. “You’re not seriously gonna keep your hookup rulebook forever, are you? I know it served its purpose for a time, but I think you can let it go now.”
A therapist or two has said as much, but Liyah isn’t so sure. “It’s gotten me this far.”
Neen pauses, sucking in their lip. They could point out that Liyah didn’t have the healthiest relationship with sex after the end of her freshman year of college, and it only started improving about two years ago. Or, they could say that she still has a total aversion to serious relationships. From the way the silence hangs in the air, she knows they’re considering it. But then, they sigh, most likely resolving to bring it up another day. “Just consider bending the rules. For her sake”—they look pointedly at Liyah’s crotch as she pulls up her tights—“and let me know if it does happen. Wait—don’t flush, I have to pee, too!”
“I’m leaving this stall, now.” And never thinking about what I may or may not feel toward or do with Daniel ever again, if I can help it.
“Bye, C-J. Get me a drink!” they call after her.
LIYAH HAS BEEN disappearing on Daniel all night. At the photo booth, after the costume contest winners were announced, and now from the screening of Night at the Museum. To be fair, she’s also disappearing on everyone else, but with him it feels personal. They make eye contact, and then suddenly she has somewhere pressing to be, even though the event is well-staffed and running smoothly.
He’s watching her retreating form when Jordan leans over and whispers, “So … Neen is fine as shit.”
Daniel supposes it’s true. But given Neen doesn’t exactly give off the vibe that they’re attracted to people of his gender, he’s never really thought about it. “And?”
“Just making an observation.”
Daniel laughs, turning back to the screen. “Good, because if you do more than that you’re gonna get that ego of yours badly bruised.”
He looks over, and Jordan’s frowning. “Y’all are always on me about how you’re not supposed to assume people’s sexuality, now I’m supposed to?” he hisses. “They’re hot, and I might have a chance.”
“I’m not assuming, Liyah told me.”
“Fuck.”
Yeah, fuck. For the first time in their friendship, it feels like Daniel and Jordan are somewhere close to the same page in their sex lives. He could commiserate, but that might lead to mentioning the kiss that supposedly never happened, so it’s best left alone. “Sorry, man.”
“Yeah, me too,” Jordan says with an easy laugh.
They watch for a few minutes before Jordan leans in again. “I don’t wanna get on you to talk if you’re not feeling it, but I want to check in about Thursday.”
Daniel stops breathing, wondering momentarily how Jordan found out about him and Liyah, until he realizes that he’s talking about his dad. He swallows. “Oh, um. Yeah. It was good to be with my mom and Kayla.”
“Did Alex do his whole pretending to hit on Minji thing?”
“Yeah, but at least he wasn’t there the whole time.”
Jordan whistles. “Can’t blame him. If we weren’t friends, I’d be happy to be your stepfather.”
This cracks Daniel up, and Jordan laughs along with him. “Cucking my dead dad is low, even for you.”
Jordan grins. “My bad,” he says, but Daniel knows he did it intentionally, to make him laugh. “You good, man?”
“I’m doing better, actually. We talked about him. I haven’t really done that much.”
“That’s big! I’m proud of you.” He waits a bit, but Daniel doesn’t feel like there’s much more he’s ready to say. Jordan shrugs, taking another handful of cheddar popcorn from the bag that rests against his bare stomach.
Another twenty minutes, and still no sign of Liyah. “I’m going to go make sure nothing’s gone wrong,” he says.
Daniel scours the key spaces, but Liyah’s not at either bar, by the DJ, or at the bistro. Some staff members have started to set up the air mattresses, but as best he can tell, Liyah is not among them. Maybe she’s gone back to the movie in his absence? But as he passes by a STAFF ONLY door, another option occurs to him.
When he pushes through the plastic sheeting, he finds that the room has been completely transformed since he last saw it. Cave paintings line the walls, and tiny Venus sculptures stand encased in glass on podiums in the center of the room. Liyah’s leaning against the wall, directly underneath the freshly printed words ART IN THE UPPER PALEOLITHIC ERA, frowning.
“Thought I might find you here,” Daniel says, striding toward her.
She doesn’t look up until he’s right there, and even then, all she says is, “Hi.”
“Hi,” he replies.
“Hello.”
“Howdy.”
“Top of the morning.”
That one makes him laugh. “This place looks great. It’s really coming together.” She nods, bites her lip, then looks to the sky, blinking. “Hey,” he whispers, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re right, it does look great. And my favorite parts are on their way, too. But what if it’s not enough? I spearheaded an entire exhibit myself, even put up with Emiliano trying to hold the cave drawing analysis hostage so I would consider including the invention of fireworks—which would be ridiculous, like is this one exhibit supposed to cover literally everything humans have ever done? That’s impossible.” She exhales. “I’m doing all this work that I’m proud of, and I might not make curator because of membership numbers that aren’t even really in my control. I mean, for people who truly hate museums, aren’t these events just like wrapping shit in cellophane and putting a bow on it?”
Dance music pulses softly through the walls, bass line vanishing as they speak but distinct when they’re quiet. “There are so many people here, Liyah,” he tries. “I know the wine night didn’t go well, but we’ve got a do-over in January. And we still have the holiday party before then. The numbers’ll go up.”
“You don’t know that!”
“You’re right, I don’t. But you just have to trust in the process.” Liyah snorts. “What?”
“Nothing,” she says.
He steps forward and places his palm flat against the wall next to her Afro. He’s so singularly focused on her that he knows he’s not imagining the way she arches toward him. She doesn’t meet his eyes. “There is something you’re not telling me,” he says.
Daniel sees her breath hitch as she finally looks up at him, feels his heart skip in exact time. “I don’t know how you do that, Daniel,” Liyah says. “Always expect things to go well, give yourself to the world and hope it doesn’t break you. As much as I want to say it’s because of everything that’s happened since, you were like that when we were kids, too, and I’m not sure I ever was.” Her eyes dip lower, she bites her lip. Daniel watches as the white brackets her teeth leave on the brownish pink disappear.
He leans down, heart in his throat. She tilts her chin up. A brief exchange of breath.
“Don’t do that!” she spits out, frustrated. Daniel drops his arm, putting a foot of distance between them. “You know we can’t go there. It’s too risky. What if it’s … There’s too much to lose.”
Daniel runs his fingers through the hairs at the back of his head, the only part of his hair that hasn’t been gelled to oblivion. “Yeah, okay. That’s probably smart.” She nods, closing her eyes. “I know this might be … but do you want—can I give you a hug?” She nods again, and he wraps his arms around her, her body molding to his. Her arms snake inside his jacket, linking around his lower abdomen, and she relaxes entirely, perfectly conforming against his every plane like a liquid taking the shape of its container. She feels so fucking good in his arms, but he can do it. He can push those thoughts away because he knows what this job means to her and what she means to him. “I really think it’s gonna be okay,” he whispers. He unclasps his hands, using one to rub her shoulder, the other to trace the indent of her spine.
“Optimism is hard for me,” she says into his chest.
Daniel laughs softly. “You don’t say?”
“Shut up, Rosenberg.” Liyah steps back, reshaping her hair from where his chin deformed it.
“You ready for our sleepover at the museum, round two?” he asks.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replies.
SSC #11 MEETING NOTES:
Secretary: Jordan
• Basketball
• From Daniel: the Bulls are going to suck this season due to new-ish draft pick rules
• Jordan confirms
• Liyah accuses Jordan+Daniel of fair-weather fandom
• This is offensive
• Siobhan uses House Rule #8 to call time
• Work
• Nobody feels like talking about it this week
• Liyah: “Amen” (pronounced Jewishly like Ah-main)
• Liyah+Daniel object to the phrase “pronounced Jewishly”
• Dating
• Jordan+Liyah+Daniel: no comment
• From Siobhan: so far, Liyah is more right about dating apps than Jordan
• Several “luck of the Irish jokes”
• One “does the carpet match the drapes” question despite her being blond and not ginger
• SSC will select two matches for her to ask out next, Siobhan will report back
• Chanukah Party at Liyah’s for next SSC
• No, two from now. My bad
• No rule additions
SSC #12 MEETING NOTES
Secretary: Daniel
• Work
• Jeff is an enormous asshole
• Siobhan backs up Liyah on his assholery, but suggests Liyah ask for help in the future
• Daniel seconds this. Liyah didn’t tell him or Siobhan that he was still sending rude emails about membership numbers
• Jordan didn’t know about them at all
• Liyah says everybody has to take a tequila shot with her if they insist on going through her character flaws
• “Yes, even in light of Rule #7”
• Dating
• Jordan has successfully been single for a month. Cheers.
• Siobhan’s most recent date, picked by Jordan, was not awful, but would probably get along better with Jordan than her
• “Still progress!”—Liyah
• Daniel and Liyah think we shouldn’t have to talk about this every week.
• For some reason, a Rule #11 cap on Liyah making fun of Daniel is vetoed by the group
• “Ha!”—Liyah
• Siobhan and Jordan clarify that it’s only because it would be a bitch and a half to enforce
• “Ha your face!”—Daniel
• Liyah does signature eye roll
• She claims this is not her signature. Everyone disagrees
• No rule additions