Page 104 of We Could Be So Good
“Hi,” Andy says.
“You smell like wine.”
Andy takes a sip of Nick’s bourbon, as if in response. “Weirdthing happened today. Or not weird, just—odd. I guess that’s the same thing. Rather, well, I don’t know how you’re going to take this.” He bites his lip and starts playing with the end of his tie.
Nick decides to put him out of his misery. “Let me guess. You bought the building.” At Andy’s astonished look, he says, “I ran into Mrs.Martelli.” He tucks his toes under Andy’s thigh.
“I didn’t buy it yet. I only put in an offer.”
“You should have mentioned it to me first.”
“I know. It’s been killing me all night. I did it all backward. I was hoping to wait until I sold my mother’s apartment, but Mrs.Martelli wants to act fast. Then I wasn’t sure the bank would give me a mortgage, which is mortifying to think about. But it all came through this afternoon, so I put in an offer right away.”
“You have a mortgage?” Nick asks. Michael has a mortgage. It seems like such a normal thing, such a mundane way to buy a house. And maybe that’s when the penny drops—Andy bought a house. He wasn’t just throwing his money around for fun. He bought a house—a home, their home.
“I’m not going to pay cash for real estate,” Andy says, whatever the fuck that means. “And it won’t be a huge mortgage.”
“You’re not raising anybody’s rent, right?” Nick says dubiously.
Andy looks mildly insulted. “Of course not. And the numbers work out so that a superintendent—this building really needs a super, Nick—can have Mrs.Martelli’s old apartment.”
“Why, though? Why buy the building?”
Andy steals Nick’s glass and takes another drink. “I need somewhere to go when Sal visits.”
He’s right, of course. Sal will visit again, hopefully under less urgent circumstances than last time, but Nick isn’t going to share a bedroom with Andy while his nephew is around—he’s not going to put the burden of that kind of secret on a kid, and he isn’tgoing to give his brother ammunition against Andy. “You could stay in the guest room,” Nick suggests.
“And put Sal on the sofa? No,” Andy says firmly. “You want him to feel like he has a home with you if he wants it, right?”
“So, what—you’re going to take another unit in the building and leave it empty except when Sal visits?” That seems extravagant.
“Actually I was thinking about knocking out the wall between this apartment and Linda’s. That’ll give us another bedroom and space to spare.”
For a minute Nick doesn’t know what to think. “You’re kicking Linda out?”
“No, no. She mentioned looking for someplace with a service elevator and better light when her lease is up this fall. Apparently carrying bags of cement up four flights of stairs isn’t her idea of fun.”
“What’ll we do with all that room when Sal isn’t here?”
“You’ll probably need an office if you want to write for magazines. You can’t really use a typewriter on the kitchen table unless you want me spilling things all over it.” He says this casually, as if he hadn’t been devastated two weeks earlier about the possibility of Nick leaving theChronicle. “But only if you want. We can leave things how they are and figure out another way.”
Nick grasps at this like a lifeline. “Really?”
Andy looks surprised. “Of course. I can withdraw the offer. Do you want me to?”
Does he? Nick isn’t sure. It’s not that he’s bothered by anything Andy suggested; it’s just—this is a lot. “I can’t believe you bought the whole building,” he says, nudging Andy with his foot. “Who are you, the Monopoly man?”
Andy goes slightly pink. “I’m using my mother’s life insurancemoney as the down payment. Do you want me to withdraw the offer, Nick?”
Nick’s probably always going to be uncomfortable about Andy’s money, but right now it’s buying them a kind of security they wouldn’t be able to have otherwise. Other people might be able to go get that for the price of a five-dollar marriage license at the city clerk’s office, but Andy has to buy a building in order to get them a future where people won’t look too closely at them. When Nick looks at it that way, it feels like Andy’s just making things fair, and that if Nick’s annoyed, he ought to be annoyed that not everyone in their position is so lucky.
Nick thinks of the Andy of a year ago and can’t imagine that kid buying an apartment building, taking on the responsibility of dozens of tenants, in order to have a safe place—a safe home. But Andy’s always wanted a home, and he wants Nick, and maybe the problem was that Andy just never really wanted anything before. Looking at him now, seeing something almost flinty in the warm depths of his eyes, Nick wouldn’t want to be someone who stood between Andy Fleming and what he wanted.
“No,” Nick says. “I don’t.”
***
“I don’t even know where to start,” Andy says. He’s hovering in the doorway to his mother’s apartment.
