Orfe by Cynthia Voigt

that,” I told him. He was looking tight around the mouth and harried around the eyes. I knew part of what was bothering him. He’d been looking forward to a once-onlyevening, with rockers or punks or Deadheads; probably he’d hoped for an orgy. Something he could impress his friends with. “Nobody knows anything about love,” I decided.
    â€œI do,” Raygrace said. When we stopped laughing at him, he kept on insisting, “I do. Love is when you really want to give to someone else, give feelings and thoughts, help, pleasure, all of it, everything you can,” he said. His round cheeks flushed, but he held his ground.
    â€œWhat does that have to do with marriage?” Tommy demanded.
    â€œGiving is as selfish as any other pleasure,” Willie Grace argued, ignoring Tommy’s question. “You give to make yourself feel good. The point is that love is selfish, and if you don’t know that, you don’t know anything.”
    â€œEverything gets easier when you love someone,” Grace Phildon said.
    â€œNo, everything gets harder, because you care so much,” Raygrace argued.
    â€œThat still doesn’t prove what love has to do with marriage,” Tommy insisted.
    â€œI want to marry Orfe,” Yuri said, “and that’s what love has to do with marriage for me. It doesn’t matter, though, if you don’t want to,” he said to Orfe.
    â€œNo, I wouldn’t mind, if you want to,” she said.
    For a long second it was as if the rest of us were invisible, the way they looked at one another. I didn’t know how I felt, watching that look; I felt uncomfortable, and I wanted to get away. It was too perfect to stay in the same room with, although also it was so perfect that I never wanted to have to leave.
    â€œIt’ll be great,” Yuri said, drawing us all in with his smile. “It’ll be the best time anyone has ever had, we’ll invite everybody.”
    â€œAnd we’ll be the music,” Grace Phildon said.
    â€œI’ll sing,” Orfe said.
    â€œNo you won’t, you’ll be getting married,” Raygrace reminded her. “We’ll walk you down the aisle with Yuri’s Dreams, and back up the aisle with Yuri’s Dreams.”
    â€œA church?” Orfe asked. “You didn’t say a church. I was thinking the park.”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter,” Yuri said.
    â€œI just want to know what you want,” Orfe said.
    â€œWe’re going,” Tommy said, and he looked at his watch. He waited for me to scramble up beside him. “Thanks for the dinner, Orfe, Yuri. Nice place you’ve gothere. Good luck with the wedding. Are you ready?” he asked me.
    I put our plates and chopsticks and fork into the sink. We left the apartment.
    Out on the street he reached for my hand. “You’ve got some wacko friends.”
    I had both my hands in my pockets and walked along.
    â€œI mean—that’s no time to propose. A proposal’s supposed to be private. Just for starters. And then it got so—Jesus, emotional—deep thought, that pseudophilosophy. It was all so sweet my teeth started to hurt.”
    â€œYou don’t like emotions, do you? They make you squirm, don’t they?”
    â€œDon’t get on my back just because you’re jealous.”
    â€œJealous? Of you?”
    â€œHow dumb do you think I am, Enny? It’s her you’re jealous of. Orfe. Because of him. Yuri. Oh, I’ve seen you, the way you sometimes look at him. You want him for yourself.”
    I stopped, lamplight on my face and on Tommy’s face. It didn’t matter that he was about a foot taller than I was. I felt as if I could punch him senseless and as if I were about to do that. Starting with his cute little nose. “You call that jealous?”
    â€œCome off it.” He laughed, more confident now that the odds were even or weighted in his favor.
    I said