Coda 05 -Paris a to Z

I check the balance on my checking account, or the weather. I look at Twitter or Facebook, or I shop.” She shrugged. “Why do you ask?”
I felt a little bit ridiculous, but it had been weighing so heavily on my mind. I found the words tumbling out of me all in a rush. “Angelos been online a lot lately, and I dont think hes just checking e-mail. And I dont think hes having an affair or anything like that. But hes being secretive about it, and I just cant figure out what he could be doing.” I stopped, and felt my cheeks turning red. I didnt blush often, but I was definitely doing it now.
She leaned against the doorframe and grinned playfully at me. “Zach, what do all men do online?” She moved her fist in front of her groin in the classic jerking-off pantomime, and I laughed.
“I thought of that,” I said, “but I dont think thats it.”
“What about Facebook?” she asked. “Its easy to get sucked in there. Finding old friends, playing games, taking quizzes.” Although I rarely spent time on the computer (except in the pursuit of that which Lizzy had just alluded to) I did know what Facebook was.
“Maybe,” I said, skeptical.
“Think about it, Zach,” she said. She was obviously warming to her idea. “Its exactly the type of mundane social moré that Angelo would make fun of. Hed never admit to it. But hes probably just catching up with old classmates.”
“Hes a dropout.”
“That doesnt matter. Ive had people friend me on there who I havent seen since grade school. And people I used to work with too.” She shrugged. “I bet hes just getting in touch with people he knew back in Denver, and he doesnt want you to laugh at him.”

    She seemed pretty sure of her opinion, and I knew better than to try to argue with her. “Im sure youre right,” I said. Although I wasnt sure at all.
    T HE last few nights leading up to our trip were a blur. We had to make sure the store was covered for the week we were in Paris. We had to pack. We had to make arrangements for Geisha. I made haphazard lists on receipts and napkins, which Angelo invariably threw away.
    The night before we left, I had ridiculous, frantic dreams: leaving only to find out that Id left the store locked with the keys inside so nobody could get in, and running around an unknown hotel in France while Cole complained about the bill. At two in the morning, I woke with a start. Angelo slept peacefully next to me.
    I lay awake for close to two hours, and when finally I slept, it was only to return to that insane dreamland. Jon and Coles ceremony was about to start, and in the way of all dreams, I couldnt find my pants. I begged Angelo to stay in the room with me, and he said that I needed to hurry. Everybody was waiting on me. To top it off, I really needed to pee. The door to every stall in our hotel room (yes, our hotel room had stalls, as well as a snack bar) was locked, and I couldnt very well use the plant in the corner because somehow everyone would know, and Angelo was yelling at me—
    “Wake up, Zach!”
    My eyes didnt open, but I rose up, out of the hotel room with stalls where I wore no pants. I connected to my body, which was also without pants and very much in my bed. And I really did have to pee.
    “Go away,” I said. Or tried to say. I didnt think it came out that way.
“Get up!” I felt the bed shift as Angelo crawled onto it, and then he was pushing me, shaking me, practically jumping on me. “Wake the fuck up!”
“No.” I tried to grab him and pull him close to me. We still made love in the morning more often than not, and I was already anticipating the

    feel of having him underneath me and the pleasure of sliding into him as he arched against me.
“No time for that,” he said, like he could read my mind—at this point, he probably could—and then his weight was gone, and the cool air hit my flesh as he yanked the comforter off of the bed. “Matt and Jared are gonna be here in less than fifteen minutes, Zach. Unless you want us to drag your ass to the airport in your underwear you better get dressed.”
I rolled over onto my back and cracked my eyes open. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. And then I sat straight up in bed, suddenly wide awake. “Its already seven oclock? Why didnt you wake me up earlier?” I asked.
“I tried!”
“When?”
“Twice now. You said you were gettin up—”
I was out of bed now, trying to find some clean pants, trying not to be irritated. “You could have tried