cause I can hear the storm is close

Arden stood before the front door and hesitated. He knew he had been invited, but his hand wouldn’t extend to the doorbell.

Maybe he should go back. Pretend he was sick. The thought made him even more anxious than ringing the doorbell. Laz had sounded so excited on the phone.

“Come over,” Arden’s friend had said. “I have something to show you.” Then called back because he had forgotten to share the address.

Laz’s house, as well as the surrounding buildings, looked impressive. The kind that Arden had only seen in pictures. The lawns were neatly trimmed, the hedges cut in a straight line. He thought he saw a flash of a peacock feather, but didn’t want to appear suspicious trying to find out if it was an actual bird or just a decoration.

Arden let out a shaky breath, squared his shoulders, and rang the doorbell. How much time does it take to go down and answer the door in such a house? he wondered. Do they have servants to do that? From the look of the house, they might. Or a butler. A butler seemed even more likely.

The door was opened by a tall young man with dark hair and small silver loops in his ears.

“Hello,” he said, his voice tinged with a slight accent. His eyes focused on the newcomer.

“Hi, I’m--”

“Oh, I know who you are!” the stranger exclaimed, a smile warming up his familiar features. This must have been one of Laz’s siblings. “You’re Arden, no? Laz told me you would be coming. Come in, come in. I’m Dante.”

Arden stepped through the threshold and extended his hand in greeting, but Dante ignored that and embraced him instead.

Oblivious to the confusion on Arden’s face, the dark-haired man continued. “His room is on the second floor, third door on the right. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Dante left Arden standing in the hall. Since no one was watching him, Arden took some time to examine the surroundings. Whoever had decorated the house had a good taste. There was a lot to take in, but it didn’t sit heavily on the eye. Sunlight was spilling into the house through wide windows. A bowl of fresh fruit was placed on a table before a large TV.

Upstairs, a wide corridor extended before Arden. Each door had a name plaque. The first one was labeled Dante. Arden glanced through a crack in the door, even though he knew it was probably a bad idea. The owner could go back at any moment, but Arden’s curiosity got the better of him.

It seemed that Dante was fond of plants. Several stood in his room, obscuring the sunlight. It looked like a winter garden.

The second door belonged to Luca. Arden recalled Laz mentioning the name several times; the sister he was on good terms with. Before he could peek inside, a large dog ran through and sat down before him. It was a collie. Arden had never learned to read dogs. Cats, yes, his family had several. Horses too, since he’d spent most of his childhood with them. Dogs, no.

Another thought occurred to him. Would the dog bite? Perhaps he should hurry to Laz’s room after all.

The third door had a plaque for Hayden Jr. It was ajar and Arden could hear someone tapping on the computer keyboard. Arden knocked.

“Entrare.”

Arden entered. Laz was hunched over a computer. His silvery blond hair sat in a bun atop his head. Arden had gotten so used to seeing his friend in tailored suits, it was a shock to see him in an orange T-shirt and black shorts. He looked very… regular.

Laz turned. He wasn’t wearing his winged eyeliner, either. “Oh, it’s you. I thought you were my mom. She always knocks and waits for me to call her. Everyone else just strolls in. Sit down, I’m almost done.”

“I didn’t want to come in unannounced.” Arden sat down on the couch. He tried not to let his attention wander, though it wasn’t easy. The room was full of interesting knick-knacks.

Laz shrugged. “You’ll know next time.”

“There was… a dog.”

“Which one?”

“The collie.”

“Ruffles. Did he do anything?”

Laz turned his attention back to the monitor.

“No… he just sat there.”

“You can pet him. He doesn’t bite.”

“Do you have more dogs?”

“Yes. Ruby. She’s a poodle. I don’t recommend petting her.”

Arden couldn’t sit still for another moment and looked around the large room. A closet stood in a corner with one of Laz’s suit jackets hanging on the door. Arden smiled to himself. That was the part of Laz he knew well. There also was a bookcase. Some titles were in English, others sounded Italian. Arden spotted a few in French. There were even some in Russian.

“Do you speak French?” Arden couldn’t resist asking.

“Yes.”

“Can you also read all of these?”

Laz looked back at the shelf. “Yes. Though my Russian is a bit rusty.”

Arden’s gaze continued to travel around the walls. The only plant in the room was a tall ficus tree.

“I’ve met Dante,” he said, remembering the impressive flora in another room.

“Yes. I’ve told him you were coming. He usually makes lunch at this time.”

The next item on the wall was a bass. Arden recalled Laz played the instrument. Next to it were some framed pictures. Arden left his backpack on the couch and approached the wall to examine it better. All of them featured Laz, always in a dark suit, and musicians. Arden recognized most of them. It was incredible how many of them Laz had managed to get a picture with. Looking at them, one detail stood out.

“Hey, Laz, are most of these people bassists?”

“Yes.”

Laz had materialized next to Arden's right shoulder, making him jump.

"I'm sorry," Arden stuttered.

"What for?"

"I-I-I-you told me to wait for you but I wanted to see the pictures--I didn't mean to ask so many questions and distract you from your work."

Laz looked serious. "You don't need to apologize for that. I wouldn't have put up all these pictures if I didn't want people to ask me about them. I thought you would have noticed by now. I like showing off. And you know, you’re the first person who knew most of the musicians in my pictures were bassists."

"But your work--"

"It is done. You can ask me as many questions as you like. In fact,” Laz’s voice rose to a higher, cheerful note, “I'm rather fond of answering them."

Laz crossed the room and sat down on the couch, and nodded to Arden to join him.

Arden has a million more questions lurking in his throat. "Okay. First one, does anyone actually call you Hayden?”

“My dad.”

“Where is your bed?"

"In my bedroom," Laz waved his arm to the door next to his computer table. "We all have separate bedrooms. I don't like having people in there, however."

"How many of you live here?"

"Five now. Me, my dad, my step-mom and two of my four half-siblings. Oh, and two dogs."

"Do you also have a separate room for a wardrobe like in the films?"

Laz let out a laugh. "No. The wardrobe you see here is the only one I have. Luca does, and my mom. Well, my step-mom, but I usually call her mom."

If Laz was annoyed by Arden's inquiries, he didn't show it. In fact, he looked happy to share everything.

"One last question. What were you doing when I walked in?"

"Programming. It's what I do for a living. Freelance programming."

"Have you ever worked in your father's shop?"

"Yes, but--oh, that reminds me, the reason I asked you to come here in the first place. No, don't get up."

Laz hurried back to his table, grabbed a small box from it and returned. He sat down and extended the box to Arden.

"Here. This is for you."

"Me?" Arden was unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

The box was light. For a moment, Arden wanted to shake it to hear what sound it made. Laz's amber eyes followed it eagerly.

"Yes. Open it."

Inside was a bracelet. Braided leather with silver beads. Each of them had a miniscule pattern.

"Is this from your father's shop?"

If so, it must be very expensive.

"Yes. I mean no. I made it there, but it was never for sale."

"You made this?"

Arden's voice had risen by several pitches. He must have sounded silly.

"Yes. Put it on. I want to see if I got the size right, but it should fit most wrists."

"I--"

Arden was unable to say anything else. Or move. He couldn't even raise his eyes to look Laz in the face. He could only look at his friend's legs. Sunlight illuminated the fine golden hair covering them, and his fingers, dancing impatiently on his knees.

"I can't accept this," Arden mumbled.

"Why not? Should I have made something different? I'm sorry. I'm not very good at making anything from silver."

"No, it's--I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I don't think I have done anything to deserve it."

Laz was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, it was slow, like he was weighing every word before voicing it. "Arden. It is a gift. Not a matter of what you deserve or do not." Maybe it was his tone or how he used Arden's name, but it sounded serious. "If it was, I would say you deserve much more than you give yourself credit for. You are my friend. And you've drawn me so many bird pictures."

"I thought you got rid of them. I couldn't see them anywhere."

"That's because they're in my bedroom." Laz straightened up and cleared his throat. "Pause for emotions over. Oh, I don't like being this emotional. It ruins my makeup."

Arden couldn't keep away the smile that crept up on his face. Laz looked unsure of what to do with himself. "You're not wearing any."

"Oh. That's right." Laz wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "You can't do that while wearing eyeliner, you know."

"Thank you." Arden put on the bracelet. It fit perfectly. "I'm not sure what to say."

"You've already said it."

There was a knock on the door and Dante poked his head in. "Lunch ready. Come downstairs."

Arden scrambled to his feet. "I should probably go."

"Nooo," Laz waved his hand. "Stay. Dante is a great cook."

"I'll just get in the way."

Laz shrugged. "There are already seven people in his family. One more won't make a difference."

"I've made so much spaghetti," Dante added, looking a bit mournful. "Besides, mom will probably disown us if she finds out we had a guest and didn't feed him."

Arden laughed. "Okay, I'll come."

The siblings were quiet on their way to the kitchen. Arden remembered something else he had been thinking about. “You have a nice house.”

They looked at each other. “Thank you,” Dante said. “Mom will be glad to hear that should you tell her. She was the one who designed most of it.”

“But only if you speak Italian,” Laz added.

“I only remember some bits,” Arden confessed. “Does she not speak English?”

“Well--” Dante looked at Laz for help, but the blond sibling was looking straight ahead.

“No. Well, she doesn’t speak it. I don’t think. I’ve never heard her do it.”

“We think she understands it,” Dante said. “She must, after living so many years here and since we speak it a lot. But she pretends she doesn’t.”

“Why?” Arden was confused.

“Well, I overheard her on the phone once,” Laz said, “with aunt Mabel. She thinks that Italian is the only language worth speaking. Nevermind that,” he waved a hand dismissively. “Probably an old people thing. She doesn’t even want to speak French. I find that French is quite nice.”

Arden felt proud for having his native tongue complimented like that.

There was a huge pot of steaming spaghetti in the kitchen. Laz found a plate for Arden and both siblings waited until he filled it.

"Take as much as you want," Dante encouraged him.

"I don't eat a lot."

"Yeah, it shows."

Neither of them relented until Arden had an acceptable amount of food on his plate. Arden wanted to protest because Laz was even skinnier than him. But the smell of sauce was mouth watering and Arden was sure he could eat that. And then a little more, he thought as he scooped himself another spoonful.

Bread and salad were already laid out on the table. A few pitchers of water with lemon slices in it that accompanied them, however, looked the most tempting on a hot summer's day.

The collie ran into the room, followed by a woman with long dark hair and a pretty face.

She noticed Arden and smiled at him, then came closer, her summer dress fluttering behind her.

"Ah. You must be Arden." She had a pleasant melodious voice. "The artist, yes? I'm Luca."

She stood with her arms wide and Arden realized she expected a hug.

Luca’s hair smelled of jasmine.

Arden hoped this would be the end of introductions, but a second later two more dark-haired people walked into the dining room and made a beeline for the spaghetti pot. Both looked much younger than everyone else, maybe school age. Neither of them spared more than one look at their guest and ignored the rest of the family altogether. Food in hand, they both settled down at the far end of the table.

Arden sat down between Luca and Dante. Before had time to ask about the newcomers, a middle-aged woman who was descending the stairs drew his eye.

Arden stood up as she approached. It was clear from her manner that she was not going to give him a hug, but it felt rude to simply nod at her from the table.

"Signora," he addressed her, after searching his memory for the correct Italian word.

The woman turned her eyes to him, raising one elegant eyebrow just a fraction. Arden knew what to do as soon as she lifted her hand. He took it in one of his and kissed the top of it.

The woman smiled approvingly and Arden hurried to draw a chair for her, then pushed her closer to the table.

He took his seat again and sighed quietly. He could feel Laz's eyes on him.

"What?" Arden snapped.

"How did you know what to do?" Laz asked in French.

Arden shrugged. "My grand-mère is the same way."

Signora Rossi didn't talk much at the table, but the rest of the family did. Both of the siblings whose names Arden didn't know broke into an argument that no one else paid attention to. Eventually, their mother interrupted and the siblings quieted down. Arden watched them, fascinated. His family meals were always quiet and polite. Arguments of any kind weren't tolerated.

It had been a few months since Arden had moved away from his parents’ house. Among Laz's family, he felt more lonely than he had in months.

"Everything okay?" Dante asked him.

Arden realized he had been staring at one spot on the table. "Yeah. Just realized I miss my family."

"Is it as big as ours?"

"No. But I have a lot of cousins and aunts."

Luca was listening to their conversation. "Oooh. Let me guess. You're a younger brother."

"Older," Arden corrected her.

"Really? You don't sound like one. Okay, next guess. You have a sister."

"Yeah. Her name is Aria."

He missed Aria most of all.

“I don’t even remember what it was like with just the two of us,” Luca said. “Me and Laz. The rest came later.”

“We used to listen to our father’s cassette tapes,” Laz replied. “And then overwrite them with our--” He cleared his throat and returned the attention to his meal.

“Singing!” Luca sounded victorious. Laz was very pointedly looking at a single noodle on his fork. “It was horrible. I doubt father even noticed his cassettes were missing. And we used to watch VHS tapes all day.”

If Laz’s intense stare could burn, Luca wasn’t feeling it. She continued chatting happily.

“Laz’s favorite was Beauty and the Beast. Remember when you insisted we should watch it three times in a row?”

“Remember when you used to sing into your hairbrush and invited the whole family to see?” Laz replied.

Luca’s eyes went wide. “I told you not to bring that one up. You better start sleeping with one eye open.”

Laz wiggled his eyebrows and resumed his meal.

To Arden’s surprise, the dinner continued as before.

“I take it your family meals go differently?” Dante asked him, amused.

“Yeah,” Arden admitted sheepishly. “They’re more quiet. And my sister and I stopped fighting ten years ago.”

“Luca and I have our own separate places in town, but we come back sometimes. It’s too quiet elsewhere.”

Quiet. Arden stared at his plate, searching for an excuse to leave the table. Loud arguments upset him. How did Laz survive this for more than twenty years? How did anyone survive this for longer than a day?

He fidgeted with his hands. The food had been good, but the loud voices at the table and the arguing, there was so much arguing, even more now when another heated discussion broke out between the two younger siblings and signora Rossi, and Arden wished he could leave quietly. He tried to get Laz’s attention, but his blond friend was explaining something to his mom in loud Italian. Signora Rossi was waving her arms so much she knocked down a glass with water.

Unexpectedly, Luca came to his aid. “Laz!” She called loudly.

“Che?” Laz snapped, turning his head to his sister, then to Arden. His expression softened, and he cleared his throat. “Oh. Um. I think I’ve had enough,” he announced, and stood up from the table, giving Arden a meaningful look. Arden followed his example and got up, offering everyone an apologetic smile.

He still hadn’t complimented Signora Rossi’s work on the house, but it felt like an awkward moment.

“I’m sure Arden has places to be,” Laz said and went upstairs.

Arden followed his friend into his room. “Thanks,” he mumbled, grabbing his backpack and holding it against him like a shield.

“I’m sorry. I forget not everyone is used to a family like mine. I should have warned you we can get pretty loud.”

“It’s okay. I think I should go home now, though. I’ve bothered you long enough.”

“You’re not bothering me.” Laz waved a hand. “I appreciate the fact that you have come, though. Otherwise, Luca would rag on me for having no friends.”

Laz saw him all the way to the front door.

“Thank you,” Arden said. “For everything. It was nice. Oh! I forgot to thank Dante for lunch.”

“I’ll let him know you said that. Feel free to come around anytime. We always have food.” After a short silence, Laz also added, “I won’t be offended if you text me first to ask how many family members are at home, too.”

Both of them turned their heads at the sound of chairs scraping and footsteps approaching.

“Looks like they’re done.” Laz pursed his lips. “You might want to go before each of them insists on giving you a hug and kissing you on each cheek. They like to do that. I wish I was joking.”

“Well, I--” Arden didn’t want to leave without offering more than a simple goodbye. “For what it’s worth, Beauty and the Beast is a great movie.”

Laz’s face brightened. “I know, right? Excellent soundtrack.”

Arden smiled too, as he stepped out into the warm summer evening. Despite all the spaghetti he’d eaten, he felt lighter.