Page 103 of Consummation

“Eh, Sarah won’t want to switch rooms, anyway,” Jonas says. “She insisted on staying with Kat our two nights here. She’s been going through some sort of Kat withdrawal this past week.”

I laugh. “Same with Kat. Every little thing we did in Brazil, Kat was like, ‘Oh my God, Sarah would love this.’”

We grin at each other for a long beat.

“How’d we get so fucking lucky?” I ask.

Jonas shrugs. “I have no idea. A broken clock is right twice a day, I guess.”

“Sarah’s really sweet,” I say. “I can’t believe she eventhoughtto arrange a reunion with Mariela, let alone pull it all together on the sly like that.”

“That’s Sarah,” Jonas says. “She’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Just genuinelykind.”

“She’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met, too,” I agree.

“What about Kat? She’s not the sweetest person you’ve ever met?”

I snort. “Hell no.”

Jonas laughs. “Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“Aw, come on,” I say. “Kat’ssweet—really sweet. Heart of gold. But it’s buried underneath a thick outer shell of evil. The woman’s a demon spawn of the highest order.” Once again, I kiss my fingertips like a chef.

Jonas chuckles. “You always did like ’em evil.”

I mock-shudder like the very mention of evil excites me. “And, even better,crazy-evil.”

“Well, Sarah doesn’t have an evil bone in her body,” Jonas says. “Does she have a crazy-bone? Hell yes. A bossy-bone? Fuck yes. But an evil-bone? Not even in her little toe.”

“Like I said, Sarah’s the sweetest person I know,” I say, swigging my beer. “Which is perfect for you—you’ve always liked ’em sweet.”

Jonas shrugs. “I don’t think that’s a particularly weird thing to like, Josh.”

“Bah,” I say. “Gotta have a little evil to brighten your day, I always say.”

Jonas chuckles. “Sicko.”

“I am what I am. So were you shocked when you got off the plane and saw Kat and me standing there—or did you already have a hunch?”

“I was completely shocked—and then I was even more shocked when we drove up to that big ol’ house and Mariela came out. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“Dude, me, too—I thought I was gonna keel over in shock.”

“For so long, I always thought, ‘If Mariela passed me on the street, would I recognize her?’” Jonas says. “All through the years, whenever I’d see a Latina woman of the right age walking by, I’d think, ‘Could that be Mariela?’ But then, the minute I actually saw the real thing, there was no doubt it was her—a thousand memories instantly came rushing back to me.”

“I didn’t recognize herphysicallyso much as I recognized her...” I trail off, searching for the right word. “Hersoul? Is that a totally Jonas Faraday thing to say?”

Jonas chuckles. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re actually referencing Plato’s theory of forms without realizing it. Plato said when we see something in the physical realm with our eyes, we’re seeing the imperfect form of it—because nothing’s perfect in the physical world—but yoursoulis nonetheless able to recognize it, despite its imperfections, because it innately knows the thing’s divine original form from theidealrealm.” He pauses briefly. “I think for both of us, Mariela was our divine original form of nurturing—an ideal form of safety and affection and love—and our souls recognized her instantly, even if our eyes didn’t.”

I smile at Jonas. There’s just no one like my brother. “Makes perfect sense to me,” I say.

Jonas smiles.

“Hey, did you catch herscent?” I say, taking in a deep breath through my nose. “I didn’t even know I remembered that scent, but the minute Mariela hugged me, I instantly remembered how she used to rock us to sleep in that big rocking chair—remember that?—and I’d nuzzle my nose into her neck and breathe in that flowery scent.”

Jonas shakes his head in apparent awe. “It’s amazing what the brain retains that we don’t even realize on a conscious level.” He drinks his beer. “When Mariela hugged me and called me Jonasito today, I felt like I’d traveled back in a time machine to when I was seven years old.”

I sip my beer and consider that concept for a minute. “Dude,” I say. “I’m thinking deep thoughts about the illusion of time and the infinite nature of love. Make it stop, Jonas. Please. My head hurts.”

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