6

6

Newton

Angus quirked an eyebrow. "No need to bring a payment—there's no cover charge here."

The people I interacted with on a regular basis had some sort of internal bookkeeping running at all times. You don't realize how much of a tally you've been keeping until you come across someone with no mental spreadsheet.

I said, "It's not about payment. I did a reverse image search of that can and came up with nothing. Yet, each of my roommates saw it—four, in all—and not one of them was even the slightest bit curious."

"Never underestimate people's capacity to ignore what they don't understand."

"That's not the point. Only you took notice. Of course I'd want to open it with you."

Angus's sharp blue eyes softened. "I suppose I'd be a real dick if I turned down the guy who offered to share his Happiness."

I'd eaten nothing that day except a shallow bowl of goopy lentils to stave off the hunger pangs, so why I'd chosen to research the can instead of opening it up and devouring the contents, I couldn't quite say. Just that in some unquantifiable way, it didn't feel right to keep it all to myself.

Angus fell back a few steps into his cramped hallway and let the door swing open wide. The smell of exotic spices intensified and my stomach rumbled—audibly. "Well, dinner's nearly ready," he said. "Don't just stand there eating crow when there's plenty of food here for both of us."

He gestured to the apartment's interior with the can, which he then hefted experimentally and subjected to a brief scrutiny. "Huh. Could've sworn it was heavier."

With a shrug, he turned and strode inside without waiting to see if I'd follow.

But how could I not?

The building was old, with hardwood floors and high ceilings. It had been divvied up into multiple units, and the space was narrow, but surprisingly deep. I followed him down a hallway plastered on both sides with so many layers of band fliers it looked like the message board at the student union. It had the look of a place he'd lived in for a while. Not like me, in a generic house-share I would shed at the end of the semester and promptly forget.

Angus paused in the kitchen. He parked the can on the counter, lifted the lid of a nearby pot, and gave the contents a quick stir. The smell of spices redoubled, now with additional peppery notes that might have been ginger, or maybe coriander.

"Just about thick enough." A hint of a naughty smirk. "By the time we put on our dinner music, we'll be good to go."

The main living space might have been a formal dining room at one time, maybe a century ago. But now it was as plastered with posters and mementos as the hallway, interspersed with half a dozen guitars hanging from the walls. A futon was splayed open on one side and an extensive vinyl collection groaned from an overburdened bookcase on the other.

"You pick," Angus said. "After all, you're the guest."

I highly doubted he was offering from any sense of politeness. This was a test—one I'd most likely flunk, knowing next to nothing about the music scene. Hopefully grading would be on a curve, since at the very least, whatever I chose would come from Angus's own collection. I was just about to grab something at random when a band name caught my eye.

The album was lying on the edge of the futon with its inner sleeve and a crescent of black and pink marbled vinyl poking out. I'd never been much for records, since it's so much easier to stream whatever you want to hear. But between the artwork on the sleeve and special pop of color on the vinyl, I could see the appeal of collecting.

And then I turned over the album and saw the band name: AndHedonia.

Was it just that morning I'd seen the flyer at the grocery store? I'd agonized so long over ditching Angus at the register, the beginning of my day seemed like old history. I held the sleeve up for his inspection. "Are they local?"

"You could say that." He put the record on. The gentle crackle of the needle touching down came through the speakers….

And then the music washed over me.

It was nothing remarkable, at first. The type of song I'd heard all my life in numerous different guises. But then the guitar struck a chord I hadn't been expecting, and the timing went from 4/4 to a disturbing, syncopated chaos. I'd just about given up making sense of it when the chaos repeated, and I realized it wasn't chaos at all, but an unusual, elaborate structure.

"Well, that makes sense," I said.

"Oh?" Angus replied cautiously. "How so?"

"The band name was clever. It stands to reason the music would be...too." Just as the words left my mouth, I glimpsed a poster that was half-tucked behind a warped and rusted STOP sign. AndHedonia. Not just the logo this time, but a photo of the group.

And the guy in the photo with the blue hair and cocky smile was awfully familiar.

Embarrassed, I said, "That probably came off as a really bad pickup line."

"And yet…it's surprisingly effective." We were half-shouting over the music. Angus stepped up to me, toe to toe, and leaned in to whisper in my ear. "If you stick around after dinner, I can let you in on all the deeper meanings." And with that, he turned and headed back down the hall.

I don't know much about Indian food, and whenever I find myself at Curry Corner I just play it safe and order the combo dish #1. But the pot waiting on the stove smelled like heaven. It drew me back into the kitchen as if the steam were a beckoning cartoon hand. Angus ladled out a heaping bowl of stew and topped it with the spiced oil he'd sizzled in a pan. "Dal palek. Eat to your heart's content, there's plenty for both of us."

"It smells amazing," I said.

"And that scorecard of yours will be happy to know that since I already had the seasonings in my pantry, it was super cheap to make."

"It doesn't smell cheap."

When he cleared a spot at the table by plowing aside a dog-eared stack of junk mail, I tossed my coat over a chair, sat down, and took a bite.

"Well?" he asked. "What do you think?"

It was hot—both in temperature and in spice level—but it tasted divine. "It's amazing. What's in it?"

"A melange of aromatics, an assortment spices…but the real star of the show is nothing more exotic than the humble lentil."