My current wip, a slice-of-life drama following an two brothers escaping an abusive home together and figuring out their identities along the path to healing. The story is split into multiple parts showcasing different phases of their lives, each with a time skip of four years in between. Alex (19/23/27 years old) has had a parental role thrust upon him from a young age and is coming to terms with the consequential loss of his childhood. Jamie (14/18/22 years old) is discovering what it means to have a queer identity and finding community after escaping his homophobic father. The third part will also focus on Aaliyah, Alex’s longterm girlfriend, as she follows her dream of opening her own dance studio built on a socialist model with her best friend Billie.
Features: queer relationships, found family, platonic love
Relevant content warnings are added at the beginning of each chapter.
You can find it here
Die Abentuer von Bruni dem Brathühnchen
A series of short stories I wrote in german about a hidden universe of socialist roast chickens. I want to translate it at some point but I have to figure out how because some of the jokes are meant for german.
Die Abenteuer von Bruni dem Brathühnchen
Das Gurkenglas
Der Cosplaytag
Translation:
The Adventures of Randy the Roast Chicken
The Pickle Jar
Cosplay Day
Looking for Myself (Inside the Labyrinth)
A Looking for Alaska fanfic I started writing which is basically just the book but from Alaska's perspective because I think she's a much more intersting character than Pudge (who I don't like). There's only like one chapter right now because it has the lowest priority of all of my projects.
One-hundred and fifty-five days. That meant five months and two days. It had been almost half a year.
Half a year, which meant we were getting close to our first performance. Not that we were in any way ready. Lisa was supposed to be taking a step in front of me so we’d form a line facing the audience, but she kept stepping on my foot and tripping instead. If I had to hear the same opening notes of This is Me one more time until she finally got it, I was going to rip my ears off.
Ms. Page looked about as frustrated as I felt, but she knew how to handle it. She was exactly the kind of person who should be a teacher, never losing her patience or yelling at us. I wondered how she’d managed not to turn bitter like every other adult I knew. I considered asking her for tips, but it was probably too late for me anyway.
Lisa stepped on my little toe this time, the heel of her boot making me wince. “Sorry,” she apologized, as if that would make the throbbing pain magically disappear.
I glanced at Holden, who was watching us from the front of the room. He should have been practicing his solo, but there wasn’t much of a point when the backup dancers couldn’t even get far enough for his cue. At least it meant we could make faces at each other, like the one I gave him now. He answered with a small grin, making my insides squirm. Even more when people looked over their shoulders to follow his gaze. I quickly fixed mine back on the gym floor, blending into the background as best as I could.
Ms. Page finally gave up on nobody tripping and told us to just try and get through the whole dance. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be, even though my feet were feeling very bruised by the end of it. I’d managed to do some improv to avoid the worst of the tripping, which Ms. Page praised me for, while simultaneously scolding everyone else to practice more at home. Everyone grumbled their acknowledgement, and we were finally allowed to leave.
Outside, Michael asked, “Who wants to go to Taco Bell?” Michael was a senior, and he had a car.
A few people agreed, but Michael specifically looked in our direction. “Holden?”
Holden looked at me, even though I wasn’t the one being asked. “I think I’m just gonna go home,” I told him.
Holden turned to Michael. “Yeah, me too. I still have a lot of homework to do.”
Micheal rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. You used to hang out all the time.” Everyone knew what Michael wasn’t saying out loud. If there was any doubt, the glare he was giving me cemented it. Holden used to hang out last year, before he’d met me.
Holden noticed it, too, his usual carefree smile turning into a slight frown. “Well, things change, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned on his heel and stalked toward the bus, me hurrying to catch up with him.
I hesitated when he threw himself on the seat at the very back, still glaring. “Are you mad at me?” It came out sounding a lot more like a whine than I’d intended.
His expression immediately softened as he hurried to make room for me on the bench. “No, of course not!” When I sat down, he pressed a kiss to my temple and added, “I could never be mad at you.”
I relaxed into his arms.
--------------------
If I was any good at drawing, I’d be able to draw Holden’s room purely from memory by now. I’d rarely spent a single day anywhere else for the past five months, and most of my time was spent staring at the walls while he worked on his homework. I’d given up trying with mine a while ago. I knew there was no point, especially in the afternoon once my Adderall had worn off.
Holden’s room was how I always imagined mine would be if I could decorate it the way I wanted to. There were two framed posters on the biggest wall, plants on the windowsill that he somehow managed to keep alive, and pieces of furniture he’d been allowed to pick out himself. Best of all was the wall of pictures over his desk. They ranged from him as a baby ‘til now. Some were with friends, some with his family and some with me, and everyone was smiling in each one. I knew that even if I tried to create a wall like that, there wouldn’t be enough people to cover it with.
That was fine, though. I could entertain myself, like I did now by opening The Battle of the Labyrinth again. I was rereading the entire series while I waited for The House of Hades to come out, even though I knew it all by heart. If I had to recite the books instead of state capitals in school, I’d have A’s all around. When I was little, I used to think my ADHD was proof I was a demigod. I kept waiting for the day I’d be whisked to Camp Half-Blood and meet my real family. Of course, I’d have found a way to convince Chiron to let Alex come, too. Even in my wildest fantasies, I’d never considered leaving him for a second.
I jumped slightly when Holden sat down next to me suddenly, holding his laptop. He grimaced. “Oh God, sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I assured him. “Are you done?”
He nodded and we cuddled up next to each other, my head resting on his shoulder. Holden tried opening Netflix, but announced after a few moments, “The Wifi’s not working. One of us has to go and reset the router.”
We looked at each other, having a tiny battle of who could do the best puppy-dog gaze.
“I don’t want to get up,” he complained.
“Well, neither do I,” I countered.
“I reset it yesterday!” he protested.
“Did you? I don’t remember.”
“I’m pretty sure I did.”
“I’m pretty sure you didn’t.”
He shut his laptop. “I guess we’re not watching anything then.”
That was a move I hadn’t been expecting. “Are you serious?” I pouted.
“Hey, if it’s that important to you, you can go,” he pointed out.
I thought about it. “Yeah, no.”
He laughed, leaning in close. “I know something we can do that we don’t have to leave the bed for.”
I smirked. “Yeah?”
We started off slow, pressing our lips together gently, but then letting things get more heated. He hummed when I kissed down his neck. I loved giving him hickeys. I wished he could give them to me too, but they’d be much too visible. I smiled into the kiss when he slowly started inching his hand up my shirt, but then frowned when he paused. I stopped to see what he was looking at.
“This one’s new,” he commented, gently touching the fresh bruise on my chest.
I winced and he immediately withdrew his hand. “Sorry,” he apologized.
“It’s fine. It doesn’t hurt that much, I barely even noticed it,” I lied.
Alex would have known I was lying in a heartbeat, but Holden didn’t know me as well and looked slightly relieved. “Well, that’s good.” He pulled my shirt down again, covering the bruise. “What happened?”
“Nothing, really,” I explained. “He was just awake longer than usual and ran into me when I was coming home.”
I could tell Holden really didn’t like that answer. “Jamie, I think we should tell someone.”
I rolled my eyes. We’d had this conversation before, and he knew my answer hadn’t changed. “No.”
“Just one adult, Jamie,” he pleaded. “It can be anyone. If I told my parents, they’d know what to do.”
I struggled to keep my voice level as I bluntly stated, “They won’t because there’s nothing anyone can do.”
Holden just didn’t get it. “They could call the police,” he argued stubbornly.
I wondered what it was like living with such wholehearted trust in the system. It must be nice. “If we call the police, he’ll put on a nice smile for them an beat me half to death when they’re gone.” I knew I was right, because that was exactly how it had happened when my second-grade teacher called them. Afterwards, the hospital had sent me right back home to him.
A tear rolled down Holden’s cheek and he gave a sniffle, which pissed me off. He wasn’t the one who was in danger here. But he didn’t stop crying, and I guessed I felt a little bad, so I let him cry into my shirt. He sniffed. “I’m scared somethings gonna happen to you.”
“Well yeah, so am I,” I said a bit too bitterly, and immediately regretted it. But Holden never got mad at me, so he just hugged me even more tightly.
“Jamie! Holden! Dinner’s ready!” We heard his dad call from downstairs. They’d started simply assuming that I was eating with them a while back.
We went to wash our hands, spending an extra minute to wash away any evidence of Holden’s tears.
“Will you boys set the table?” Matt asked us once we arrived downstairs. He was carrying a large steaming pot, so I carefully maneuvered around him to get to the silverware.
We were having spaghetti. The homemade tomato sauce was a lot better than the cheap store-bought one Alex used to heat up in the microwave. I was pretty sure the strange chunks I was picking at were actual tomatoes. I tentatively poked a small one with my fork and forced myself to swallow it. I’d always hated eating in front of other people, especially when it wasn’t one of my safe foods. Having to pretend I wasn’t literally choking most things down was exhausting.
“So, how was everyone’s day?” Anna asked like she did every day. I’d only been dealing with it for five months, I couldn’t understand how Holden had managed it his entire life.
“It was fine, I guess,” Holden mumbled, trying to get out of the question as always. I’d come to realize it was their ritual, because Anna always managed to get all the details out of him in the end. There wasn’t a single aspect of his life Holden was allowed to keep private.
“You guess?” Anna pried.
Holden busied himself trying to roll the spaghetti onto his fork. He gave up on the polite way after a few tries and started rolling the fork in the air, which was pretty cute to watch.
“Holden, don’t play with your food,” Anna said gently but firmly.
He pouted. “I’m eating it!”
Whenever he talked back to his parents, I prepared myself for someone to start screaming before I remembered that wasn’t gonna happen here. Instead, Matt made Holden watch while he showed him the correct way to roll spaghetti. “Jamie’s doing it,” he pointed out. “Maybe you should watch him.”
I hated it when they did that. Pitted us against each other. Couldn’t he have just shown it to him and left it at that? Now, I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, and it was making my skin crawl.
Thankfully, Anna remembered that it was still supposed to be Holden’s turn in the spotlight. “How’s your solo coming along?”
Holden nodded with his mouth stuffed full of spaghetti, which Anna patiently waited for him to swallow. “We were mostly practicing the beginning of the routine today,” he finally explained.
Anna frowned. “Still? Your performance is next week.”
Holden snorted. “Yeah, and it’s gonna be a… bad show.” I knew he’d narrowly stopped himself from saying shitshow.
Anna didn’t mention his hiccup. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”
She spent the next few minutes prying about how Ms. Page was handling it, how the moral was among the dancers (what did that even mean?) and figuring out exactly what Holden had ‘learned’ in school today. It was exhausting to watch, but I desperately wished it would go on forever, because once she was satisfied with him, she fixed her gaze on me.
“What about you, Jamie? What did you learn today?”
This was always the most uncomfortable part, because Anna definitely thought I was being rude when I didn’t answer, but I truly didn’t have a single idea what my teachers had droned on about on any given day. I could barely remember my classes. After what felt like an eternity, Anna gave up on the subject, but she wasn’t completely done with me.
“How are your parents? Are they still working hard?” Anna thought the reason my parents were so nonexistent was because they were workaholics. She’d kind of come up with it on her own, and I’d never corrected her.
“Um, yeah,” I replied, picking at my food. Everyone else had already served themselves seconds, but my plate was still half full.
Anna and Matt shared a look that I didn’t understand, then Matt cleared his throat. “We were thinking of maybe inviting them over to dinner some time. You know, since you’re here so often, and we’ve never met them. They might want to know who their son is spending all of his time with.” He gave a light chuckle at the end.
Red alert. Red alert. Red alert, my brain blared. Had Matt’s gaze always been so piercing? Why was my fork suddenly so heavy? It slipped out of my hand and landed on the plate with a loud clatter, making everyone at the table jump. “Sorry!” I exclaimed, quickly picking it up again.
“It’s alright,” Matt said, even though he looked slightly frazzled. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he looked to his wife for help.
She seemed as lost as him, but she didn’t let it stop her from trying something. “Jamie, honey, is everything… alright?”
My heart was pounding so intensely I could feel it in my fingertips. I set my fork down so I didn’t make the same mistake again and put on my best mask. “Yeah! Sorry, I was thinking of something else. I’ll ask my parents, but I honestly don’t think they’ll be free anytime soon. You've seen how much they work.”
My sudden change in attitude didn’t seem to convince Matt and Anna. I cursed myself for getting too comfortable and letting my mask slip.
“Okay, you do that,” Anna said. “But if you need anything, you can tell us, okay?”
No matter how annoying Anna was, my heart warmed at her genuineness. I almost felt guilty lying to her. Almost. It was a necessary means. I flashed her a brilliant smile. “Thanks, but really, everything’s fine.”
She gave me an uncertain smile back, then transferred the spotlight to Matt. He excelled in it, telling her every conversation he’d had that day almost word for word. Afterwards, he hung onto every sentence as she did the same for him.
Matt always drove me home after dinner. Usually he put on his favorite radio station that only played The Beatles, but today it was silent. Maybe he wanted to give me the room to tell him something. I liked Matt a lot more than I liked Anna. He never forced things out of you, so when we talked, it was always about things we both genuinely wanted to say. I imagined what would happen if I told him about my bruises. He’d freak out, but still manage to keep his cool. He’d wait for me to finish talking and then figure out what to do. He’d only want to call the cops, though, no matter what I said. So I kept my mouth shut.
We said our goodbyes, and I watched him drive off before walking home from the house I always told him was mine. It was only a block away from my actual front door. Taking off, my shoes, I unlocked the front door as slowly as I could before tiptoeing through and closing it a millimeter a second. Then came the stairs, which I inched along, making sure to avoid the creaky ones. If that even mattered with how loudly I could hear the blood rushing through my ears. After maybe ten minutes, I reached the top, where Alex’s bedroom door was waiting open for me. It was right next to mine, which had remained firmly shut since he’d left. I pulled myself under the covers that had stopped smelling like him a long time ago and fell into an uneasy sleep.
I remembered a lot of panicking. Aaliyah, Billie and Riley trying to understand what was going on. “I need to drive to Chicago,” I kept repeating.
They wouldn’t stop asking questions. Now? Was I sure it couldn’t wait until morning? I was drunk, I knew that, right? Maybe I should sit down. Tell them what’s going on.
I wouldn’t let them touch me. “I need to go now, okay? My brother’s in the hospital, and it’s all my fault, and he’s gonna fucking die, and I need to go.”
That shut them up. Aaliyah was the one who saved me. “I’ll drive you, okay?”
---------------------
I didn’t know what I was expecting when I finally arrived at the hospital, but I wasn’t ready for the three strangers sitting by Jamie’s bed. There was a man and a woman to his right, and a teenager who was holding one of his hands as it hung limply from the side. The sight almost made me break down.
All three of them turned to look at me as I walked into the room. “Hi!” the woman said, studying me in a way that felt uncomfortable. Despite that, a kind smile adorned her face. “Are you here to see Jamie?”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Sorry, who are you?”
The woman’s smile wavered, but the tone of her voice didn’t change. She nodded towards the kid holding Jamie’s hand. “Holden’s his boyfriend, and we’re his parents.”
Boyfriend? Jamie couldn’t have a boyfriend. He never even talked to anyone. “Oh. Well, thanks for staying with him,” I said, hoping they would get the hint.
They didn’t. “How do you know Jamie?” the woman asked.
“I’m his brother,” I told her flatly. I pulled up a chair next to the apparent boyfriend and took a close look at Jamie for the first time in months.
I could barely contain a scream. I knew it would be bad, but there was nothing I could have done to prepare myself for seeing it. His face was so swollen from the bruises, it was barely recognizable. Jesus, how could I have let this happen?
“Fuck,” I said, frantically wiping tears away with my sleeve, but it was hopeless. I gave up and let them fall, ignoring the three people watching me. Why didn’t they just fucking leave? I wanted to hold Jamie’s hand, but the stupid kid wouldn’t let go.
Instead, once my sobs started subsiding, he said accusingly, “Jamie never told me about a brother.”
“Holden,” his dad snapped, but he brushed it off.
“What? I’m just saying.”
God, I really couldn’t deal with a hormonal teenager right now. “Yeah, well, he never told me about a boyfriend,” I shot back. We glared at each other.
His mom looked between us, then said, “Matt, why don’t you and Holden go get some coffee from the lobby?”
He didn’t budge. “I’m not leaving Jamie,” he said defiantly. No matter how much I hated him right now, I had to respect it. It was clear how much he cared for my little brother.
“Holden, I’m not arguing with you,” she snapped. “Both of you outside. Now.”
Holden looked uncertain, but got up when his mom looked like she was about to blow a fuse. She turned to me when the door was closed behind them. “I’m sorry about your brother, really. We all care about him a lot, especially Holden. You have to understand that it’s hard for him to trust anyone around Jamie right now. Especially people he doesn’t know.”
I grabbed Jamie’s hand, trying to pretend he was squeezing it back. I didn’t have the energy for whatever heart-to-heart she was trying to initiate.
“You don’t live at home anymore, do you?” she aked.
I gave a little nod. What was this, an interrogation?
“You might want to know that your father has been arrested,” she told me after a while. “And your mother is being investigated, too. We were thinking that it’s probably best that Jamie stays with someone else for the time being.”
I looked up at her. “Who’s we?”
“Well, my husband and I-”
I didn’t let her finish. “And why do you think you have a right to decide what happens to him?” They weren’t gonna take him from me. I wouldn’t let them.
She looked taken aback. “Well, it didn’t seem like there was anyone else-”
“There’s me,” I reminded her.
“Yes, who we didn’t know existed until a few moments ago,” she said pointedly. “Look, I know how hard this must be for you. We’re just trying to help. Things might be easier if you let us.”
I’d never get over how condescending adults were. “Well, I’ll make sure to consider your kind offer,” I replied, making sure to lace my voice with as much sarcasm as I could muster.
She finally shut up.
--------------------
Aaliyah sat in the lobby, watching something on her phone. She took out her earbuds when she saw me approaching. “How is he?”
“The nurse said it looks a lot worse than it is,” I told her. “It’s mostly bruising. He passed out because he had a panic attack.”
She nodded sympathetically.
“You don’t have to stay, you know,” I told her. “We’re probably gonna be here for at least a few more days.”
She pursed her lips. “How are you gonna get back, then?”
I shrugged. “I can rent a car or something.” I didn’t necessarily want her with me when Jamie woke up, anyway.
After a bit more back and forth, she agreed after I promised to let her know if I needed anything else. We hugged, and then she was gone.
--------------------
I was sitting with Jamie again, Holden and his parents still in the room. At least now, Holden and I both got one of his hands to hold.
I looked up when Mom walked through the door. “What are you doing here?” I snapped, forgetting I wasn’t alone with her as I felt a tsunami of rage crashing down on me. I jumped to my feet and placed myself between her and Jamie, my hands balled into fists.
She had the nerve to look surprised. “Alexander! I thought you were in Michigan!”
“Get out,” I said, my nails digging into the palms of my hands.
She didn’t move. “I came to see-”
I lost it. A boyfriend I’d never met was one thing, but her? “Get out!” I screamed. She looked at me in shock, and I wasn’t even done. “Listen to me,” I growled, my voice cracking. “There is no way in hell I’m letting you anywhere near him ever again.”
She swallowed and took a step back. I took on forwards. “Alexander-”
“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed at her again. “I leave for five fucking months, and you let this happen? Why the fuck are you even here? You don’t care about either of us.”
She didn’t waste energy trying to deny it. Instead, her fake innocent expression morphed into an unreadable poker face. The same one she wore when she was watching John have one of his fits. “What do you want to do, then?”
“He’s gonna come and live with me,” I stated, leaving no room for an argument.
She looked at me like someone would look at a toddler who’d just claimed they were gonna rule the world someday. “Really? With what money?” she practically sneered.
“Yours,” I said like it was obvious, even though I was making this up as I went. “You owe us that much.”
She snorted. “Sweetie, you know I can’t do that. He’ll flip out.”
How pathetic that even now, she couldn’t remove herself from under his spell. “Well, figure it out.”
“Or what?” she countered.
“Or I’ll take you to fucking court,” I managed to reply smoothly.
She considered it, then said, “Fine. Call me when you’re ready to talk about the details without screaming at me.” She took one last look at me, Jamie, and the hospital room, then she was gone. Just like that, we didn’t have a mom anymore.
Posting the link to my first chapter on wordpress as an experiment
Summary: It’s a novel about an older brother (Alex) dealing with having to raise his younger brother (Jamie) because they grew up in an abusive home. They’re both figuring out their (queer) identities.
One-hundred and fifty-five days. That meant five months and two days. It had been almost half a year. Half a year, which meant we were getti
I finished your book, I texted Aaliyah. Are you free sometime next week so I can give it back?
My heart thumped as I watched her type up a reply. Why don’t you give it to Jamie when he comes to class tomorrow?
Disappointed, I replied, Sure, I can do that. I’d been hoping for an excuse to meet up in person, maybe talk things through, but I couldn’t blame her for deflecting.
Jamie was confused when I brought it up to him the next day. “Why don’t you just give it back yourself?” he asked as he stuffed the book into his bag frantically along with his change of clothes.
I winced at how carelessly he handled it. “Be careful!”
“Sorry,” he said, but didn’t adjust it to a safer position. Instead, he practically threw his bag on the floor as he went to put on his shoes. “Did something happen between you two?” he asked again.
“No, we’re just both kind of busy. It’s easier this way,” I said, glad he couldn’t see my expression. “What do you care, anyway? Just give it to her.”
“Okay, okay. I will,” he said in a tone that indicated he didn’t realize how important this was.
“You better not forget,” I called after him as he raced out the door.
---------------------
He forgot. I found out when I asked him how it had gone later that evening. He froze, the wooden spoon he was holding remaining stationary in the tomato sauce. “Oh, fuck.”
I wondered if I should tell him not to swear. Normal parents wouldn’t want to hear that kind of language from a fourteen-year-old kid, right? But I didn’t have the nerve. I just said, “You forgot, didn’t you?”
He resumed stirring in the half-hearted way he did most household chores. “Why would you make me give it to her, anyway?” he argued defensively. “You know I’m forgetful!”
I groaned and pressed the back of my head to the wall. “Now she’s gonna think I forgot about it.”
He gave me a sideways glance. “Why are you being so weird about this?”
I lowered my eyes from the ceiling to him, my head unmoving. “I’m not being weird.”
“Yes, you are,” he said. “Was your date bad or something?”
I didn’t say anything until he grabbed the salt and started shaking an ungodly amount in the sauce. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, moving away from the wall and holding out a hand to stop him. “What are you doing?”
He looked at me, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Why are you putting enough salt in there to dry us both out?”
He awkwardly put the salt down. “I thought I was supposed to use spices,” he said in a whiny voice.
God help me. “Well, yeah, but salt is like, the one spice that should be used in moderation,” I told him. “But I’m sure it’s fine, don’t worry. Sorry I freaked out like that.” To illustrate my point, I grabbed a spoon and tried some of the sauce. It wasn’t exactly revolting, but it definitely wasn’t pleasant to taste, either. “See, it’s delicious,” I assured him. “Just don’t put any more.”
“Okay,” he said.
I grabbed all the dried herbs we had in the cabinet and tossed in as much as I could stomach, hoping they’d at least somewhat mask the salt. “Let’s just let this simmer now. I’ll get started on the pasta.”
As I filled the pot with water, he asked again. “So what happened with your date?”
“You’re really not letting this go, are you?” I said as I watched the water level rise slowly.
He shrugged. “I’m just curious.”
I considered whether to tell him, but this was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? He deserved to know, and it was my fault for dragging him into things with the book. “We never went on our date,” I told him as I turned off the tap. “I broke things off.”
“Wait, really?” he said, seemingly a lot more shocked than I’d expected. “Why?”
What did he mean, why? Had he forgotten the past weeks, too? “I just realized me dating isn’t the best idea right now,” I told him, making sure to keep my voice level. “We both have too much going on. You were right that it’s not fair to you.”
“You really liked her, though,” he said.
Well, yeah. Was that guilt in his voice? What did he even want from me? “I did, but it’s just not the right time,” I said, hoping to console him. “That’s life, you know?”
I thought he was done with it, but he brought it up again when we’d moved to sitting at the table, our spaghetti plated in front of us. “Wait, so you broke up with her because of what I said?”
“Well, I want you to feel comfortable,” I told him. “I’m sorry it took me this long to realize how much it was bothering you.” Hopefully, he’d trust I meant it and we could move on from the whole thing.
He didn’t reply, just stared at his noodles for a while.
“What are you thinking?” I gently prodded him eventually.
He shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. “I don’t know. I just- I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
Guilt clawed at my chest. What kind of brother was I, that he was so surprised I’d put him first? I took a chance and reached across the table to grab his hand. He let me take it. “Of course I would. You’re my highest priority, okay?”
He shook his head again. “No, I mean- you shouldn’t have done that.”
A cold shower ran down my back. How had I managed to mess up yet again? “What do you mean? I thought you wanted this.”
He opened and closed his fingers around my hand a few times, then said, “Could you like- is it too late for you to fix things with her?”
What? I felt sick. Why was he having this change of heart after I’d sabotaged my life for him? What did he mean, he didn’t think I’d actually do it? Did he even have anything against Aaliyah, or had he been lying to piss me off? And now he felt guilty or something? “It doesn’t work like that, okay?” I said.
“I think you should try,” he insisted.
I took my hand away. “What do you even want from me, Jamie? Like, even if I did somehow get her to take me back, how do I know you won’t change your mind again?”
“I won’t,” he promised, but I didn’t know if I could believe him. He wasn’t exactly known for having stable emotions.
“I don’t get you,” I said.
He didn’t reply.
--------------------
After a lot of thinking, I texted Aaliyah again. Despite everything, I wanted to talk to her, and I was more likely to get that chance if I was honest.
Alex: Do you want to come to the café tomorrow so we can talk?
I watched her begin typing, then stop, then start again.
Aaliyah: Sure
What had she deleted? An essay on how I could go fuck myself? Was that a happy sure or a resigned sure? I tried not to overthink things, but as I began my shift the next day, I couldn’t get her out of my head. Would our conversation be anything like before, or was this just a courtesy on her part?
I was loading the dishwasher when I heard the door ring. I turned to see her walk through the door, my anxiety only getting worse once I saw her. She had the usual carefree spring in her step as she came up to the counter.
“Hey!” she greeted me.
“Hey!” I said back, doing my best to match her tone but not come across as too enthusiastic. “Hot chocolate with oat milk, right?”
She smiled up at me, and I wanted to take a picture of it to look at when I was feeling down. “Should I be flattered you remembered my order, or do you remember everyone’s?”
“Not everyone’s,” I told her as I took her money. “Just the important ones.” That was smooth, right? I stared at the bill she’d given me, my mind blank as I struggled to figure out her change. Why did she have to be watching me? Okay, think, I told myself. One dollar and seventy-five cents. A dollar bill and two- no, three quarters. I looked up again to hand it to her, but our fingers fumbled.
“Oh, fuck, sorry,” I said as the coins rolled into the unknown.
She, at least, seemed just as flustered. It was an unusual look on her, but one that got my hopes up. It had to mean she still liked me on some level, right? “It’s fine,” she said, crouching down to pick up the ones that had fallen on her side. I did the same, setting them on the counter to avoid another embarrassing situation. “I’ll just sit here while you make it, okay?” She sat down at the counter, which held our only chair.
I couldn’t make latte art with a hot chocolate, but I still took extra care in making her drink, conscious of the intense way she was watching me. Didn’t she have a phone or some other form of entertainment she could get out?
“Careful, it’s hot,” I warned when I set it down in front of her.
She touched the sides of the cup for a few seconds before jerking her hand away. She set it on the table instead. “So, what did you want to talk about?” she asked. She wasn’t a fan of beating around the bush.
I leaned against the counter as she looked at me expectantly, trying to remember the words I’d practiced. “I guess I wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings,” I said. “I understand if you’re completely over it, but I genuinely do like spending time with you.”
“As friends? Because I said the date could just be us hanging out,” she reminded me.
I leaned back awkwardly. “It’s probably a deal breaker if I say I don’t know, right?”
She gave me a small smile, indicating she was humoring me. “Billie would definitely say so.”
That wasn’t a no. “And what would you say?”
“I…,” she traced a line across the counter with her finger, “have never been much of a fan of labels anyway.”
“Okay,” I said, hoping she’d take that as an invitation to continue. At least enough for me to kind of get what she was saying.
She looked up at me again. “I guess I’m just wondering, what changed? Because two weeks ago, you were very against us doing anything that could be interpreted as a date in the slightest. This change of heart can’t just be because Billie yelled at you.”
I laughed a little. “I don’t know, Billie can be pretty convincing.”
“I know she can,” Aaliyah agreed. “But seriously, tell me.”
Lying now would just be shitty. “Jamie might have come around,” I admitted. “At least, kind of.”
She tilted her head. “I thought it might have something to do with that. Kind of?”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know. He told me I should try and fix things, but I don’t really get him.”
“I mean, he is fourteen,” she pointed out.
“Yeah.”
She touched the sides of her cup again before taking a sip. “I’m just thinking… I don’t mind being casual. But I don’t know if I like that your willingness is dependent on a third party, you know? And I know that’s not your fault, I’d probably be acting the same way if I was in your position, but I don’t know if I can take that risk.”
All the hope I’d gotten at the sight of her smile plummeted. “I get that,” I said, my voice thick. I watched the way her fingers gripped the cup, neither of us saying anything for a while. “What if I told you it wasn’t just Jamie?” I tried. “That a lot of it was me being an idiot?”
She laughed a little. “And you being an idiot would make things better how?”
“Well, I can’t control Jamie,” I said. “But I can learn to not be an idiot.”
She took another long sip. “Logically, I’m telling myself all this flip flopping is a bad sign. And that makes two bad signs.”
I frowned. “What’s the other bad sign?”
She took an abnormally long sip of her hot chocolate before saying, “I mean, I’ve never dated a white person before, either.”
“Oh,” I said, not knowing how to react to that.
She laughed at me. “Okay, I haven’t even dated that many people, but I have this rule. I won’t say no just because the person’s not Black if I happen to meet them and there’s a connection, but I also don’t actively seek out white people. You know, like on dating apps or whatever. But we met, and you fell into the first category, and I liked you. I still do. But now there’s all of this, and part of me is saying it’s a bad sign. But the other part of me is saying it’s not, because I can understand why things are complicated for you. And I do like talking to you.”
“Why do you not usually date white people?” I asked. “I mean, I can guess why, but is there a specific reason.”
“Not really,” she said. “Just the same reason most people probably have, I don’t want to risk dating someone I’ll have to educate on basic things. I don’t have the energy for that, and I’d have trouble getting close to that kind of person.”
“That makes sense,” I said.
“Yeah, and I can’t even judge you on like, other relationships you have with Black people, because you don’t have any friends,” she said with a joking smile.
I laughed. “Okay, you don’t have to rub it in.”
She grinned as she emptied her cup.
“I have a question,” I said as she set it down.
She gave me a look that said I should continue.
“You keep saying that logically you think these things are bad signs,” I said. “But what about not logically?”
She bit her lip, her smile reaching her eyes as she said, “Not logically, I still really like you.”
---------------------
I saw Aaliyah the moment I walked in the café, but had to stop and pause for a moment. She was always pretty, but she’d clearly spent some extra time in front of the mirror preparing for our date, and the result was pretty breathtaking. Her braids were swept up in a ponytail, making her gold dangly earrings stand out. As I got closer, I realized they made the golden flecks in her eyes stand out, which were accentuated by her eyeliner.
She got up when she saw me and we greeted each other with a hug. “Hey!” I said. “You look great.” Billie had told me something about making my compliments specific, so I added, “I love your earrings.”
“Thanks!” she replied brightly. “My grandma gave them to me. You look good, too.”
I shifted uncomfortably, wondering if she was only saying that out of politeness. I was wearing a pale blue button-down that I considered to be my nicest shirt and jeans without holes in them that I’d bought specifically for the occasion.
“Thanks,” I echoed, sitting down across from her. She’d already set a pile of games on the table.
“I picked out some that I like, but you can look around too, if you want,” she told me.
My eyes flitted around the café. Every nook and cranny was filled to the brim with so many games that I wouldn’t know where to start. “I don’t really play games that often,” I explained.
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”
I shook my head. “I mean, we had a few we used to play when I was little, but I never really got into it.” I hadn’t even known board game cafés were a thing until Aaliyah had suggested it. I gestured to the pile. “Do you have a favorite?”
She bit her lip, then said, “Okay, you can’t laugh, but it’s Settler’s of Catan.”
I frowned. “Why would I laugh?” I’d definitely played it before.
She looked at me sheepishly. “I don’t know, no one ever wants to play it with me. Billie and Riley say it’s a game for ten-year-olds.”
To be fair, it had been a while since I’d played, and I wasn’t sure I was remembering it correctly. Wasn’t it the game that was kind of like Monopoly but with wheat and ore instead of money? “Really? I don’t mind it, we can play if you want.”
She smiled and excitedly started unpacking the box. While we were setting up, a waitress came over and we both ordered a hot chocolate.
“Do you come her a lot?” I asked Aaliyah after the waitress had gone.
She shrugged. “From time to time. I wouldn’t say I’m a regular. I’ve definitely never had a date here before.”
My cheeks heated, the word date reminding me exactly why we were here. “Where do you usually go on dates, then?” I asked, hoping to figure out if she had any kind of active dating life.
“I don’t know, it depends. I don’t think I go on enough dates to have a ritual.” That was good to hear. She finished placing her settlements, spending much more time considering their location than I had, before throwing the question back at me. “What about you?”
There wasn’t any point in lying. “To be completely honest, I’ve never actually been on a date before,” I admitted awkwardly, praying she wouldn’t find it too weird.
She didn’t even seem surprised, just confused, which made it even more embarrassing. “Wait, really? Never? Not even like, an awkward thing when you were a teenager that never led anywhere?”
I technically still was a teenager, but I decided not to remind her of that. I shook my head. “Nope.”
To my relief, she smiled and said, “Wow, so I’m your first. I’m honored.”
I tried to look her right in the eyes as I replied, “Well, yeah. I wasn’t gonna go on my first date with just anyone.”
Her smile widened, but she didn’t answer, just looked at the board awkwardly as I rolled. Had I made her flustered? I hadn’t thought that was possible with her.
She swore when I rolled a seven and gleefully moved the robber over to her side of the board. “Damn it.” She took the dice from me before asking, “Do you have any idea what you want this to be, then?”
I blanched, my carefree mask slipping. I’d been so focused on getting the date, I hadn’t even considered specifics. I’d fantasized about cuddling with her while we watched a movie none of us was paying attention to, talking until we fell asleep. Waking up next to her, seeing her first thing in the morning and feeling safe and content. Did that mean I wanted her to be my girlfriend?
“You don’t have to have a definitive answer or anything,” Aaliyah quickly assured me when I didn’t answer. “I was just wondering if you’d thought about it at all.”
“I haven’t really,” I admitted finally. “Like we said, I just want to spend time with you.” The admission made my anxiety spike, making me feel my thumping heart in my entire body.
Was she blushing? She definitely looked happy, so I must have said something right. “Yeah, I mean, we can just keep dating for a bit. I like spending time with you, too.”
It was my turn to blush, and I couldn’t help but think how dorky we both must look. Much too soon, it was time for her to go to work. Our knuckles brushed as I walked her to her car, and in the spur of the moment, I grabbed her hand, grinning ecstatically when she accepted it and linked our fingers together.
She stopped in front of a dark green Kia. I liked cars that had pretty colors. Nowadays, they all seemed to be exclusively in different shades of gray. “I had a really nice time. Thanks for playing Catan with me.”
I smiled down at her, still holding her hand. “I really liked it. We should go there again sometime.”
“I’d love to,” she agreed.
I was just thinking that on account of our height difference, I’d probably have to make some sort of move when it came to kissing, when she surprised me by getting up on her tippy toes and pressing a kiss to my cheek. Before I’d fully registered what had happened, she was saying goodbye and walking over to the driver’s side of her car. I stared after her, and she caught my eye one last time before getting in.
“Are you okay?” she asked teasingly.
“I’m great!” I said, a bit too enthusiastically, and she laughed.
“We’ll text, okay?” And with that, she pulled out of her parking spot in one of the smoothest maneuvers I’d ever seen and was gone.
Overview
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Them getting back together is pretty rushed here, which is definitely gonna change in future rewrites. I definitely want Alex to break things off, and I definitely want them together in Part 2. I'm gonna expand on a lot of things in general. If anyone has any suggestions on how to change/ add things, I'm all ears.
I braced myself as the phone rang, a part of me hoping she wouldn’t pick up so I’d have an excuse not to have the dreaded conversation.
“Hey!” Aaliyah answered, and my heart sank.
“Hey,” I said, much less enthusiastically. “Is now a good time?”
“Yeah, I’m not doing anything,” she replied. “Why? Is everything okay?”
It took a few seconds before I was able to get the words out. “I just… I need to talk to you about our date. Listen, I’m really sorry to do this, but, um, I don’t think it’s a good idea if we go through with it.”
The line was silent for an excruciating amount of time. “Oh,” she said softly. “Did something happen?”
“No! Well, not with you,” I tried to explain, though I realized how cliché the whole thing sounded as I said it. “It’s just, I have a lot going on right now, with Jamie and everything, and I don’t think it’s the best time, you know?”
“I understand,” she said, though I could hear in her voice that she was upset. I hated myself for it. This would all be so much easier if I wasn’t genuinely head over heels for her. “I mean, I do, but also, the date doesn’t have to mean anything serious, you know? We can just kind of hang out. I like spending time with you.”
My heart ached. I liked spending time with her, too. If only I’d never gone to that stupid party with Sam, I’d never have dragged her feelings into this. “I’m really sorry,” I said again. “I just don’t think I can do this.”
I wished I could see her expression as she asked, “Is this because Jamie doesn’t like me?”
Jamie had been right, I had given her too much insight into him. “It’s not that he doesn’t like you,” I tried to explain. “He just doesn’t like me bringing new people into his life without consulting him. And he’s right that it’s not fair.”
“You deserve to have your own life, though,” she argued stubbornly. “I just think this is kind of unfair to you.”
“You don’t get it,” I told her, annoyed that she couldn’t just stay out of it. “You don’t get what we’ve been through, okay? He needs me. The last time I let myself be distracted, he ended up in the hospital, and he’s still recovering from that.” I was getting angrier now, ranting into the phone. “Do you get how shitty it is seeing him so broken all the time, knowing that I could have prevented it? I can’t ever let that happen again. Sorry.”
She let me finish, then said in the same disapproving tone she used to tell me I shouldn’t be so embarrassed of my financial situation, “Okay. It’s your life.”
“It is,” I said firmly.
We hung up soon after. There wasn’t much left to say.
--------------------
On my sixth day of eating lunch alone, Billie suddenly slid herself next to me. I was sitting on the edge of the bench, so she took the spot on the other side, creating enough distance between us for, in theory, a third person to join. What was it they said at high school dances? Leave enough room for Jesus?
“Um, hi,” I said awkwardly, putting down my sandwich. I looked around, half expecting to see Aaliyah or Riley as well, but she was alone.
“Hi,” she said, putting an elbow on the back of the bench and using it to hold her head so she was completely turned to me. “How have you been?”
“Okay,” I said, wondering what she wanted from me. Hadn’t I made it clear I wanted to be left alone? I took a bite of my sandwich to make it clear I wouldn’t be elaborating.
She watched me chew, then said, “I’ve been designated to let you know that just because things didn’t work out with you and Aaliyah, it doesn’t mean you can’t still hang out with us. We’re still your friends.”
I shook my head, regretting the bite because now we both had to wait for me to swallow. I forced the sandwich down, coughing a bit as it got stuck in my throat.
“You want water?” Billie asked, reaching into her backpack for her bottle.
I nodded my thanks and took it from her. Once the liquid had cleared my throat, I said, “Designated by who?”
“Riley and Aaliyah,” she explained. “We all miss you, but they’re too chicken to say it to your face.”
I didn’t know if I could believe that. “Really? Aaliyah wants to see me right now?”
A teasing smile formed on her lips. “As part of the group, yeah. I don’t know about one-on-one, but between you and me, I think that could be changed if you apologized. I’ve never seen her this into someone.”
My heart somehow did a jump of joy and plummeted into my stomach at the same time. The jump was owed to the thought of talking to her again, seeing the way her eyes lit up when she got excited. I’d started reading Animal Farm in preparation for out date; maybe I could google some interpretations of it and at least pretend I had a brain that worked on the same level as hers. I hoped it was one of the topics that would get her ranting for hours. The plummet came when I remembered why I’d drawn the line between us in the first place. “You’re not my friends though, okay? I barely even know you guys. I should never have gotten any of you involved.”
Billie raised her eyebrows. “Involved in what, exactly?”
“You know, my life. Everything.” I didn’t know how else to explain it.
“You didn’t just get us involved, though,” she argued. “We have free will, too. I’m gonna be honest, you and I really don’t know each other that well. Riley and Aaliyah, however, have spent a considerable amount of time with you over the past few months. Have you considered that maybe, in that time, they’ve come to care about you and are actually kind of worried? No one forced us to hang out with you.”
I let the words bounce around in my head before I formulated an answer. “I know that,” I said. “That’s not the point. I still don’t have time for friends.”
She rolled her eyes. “You know, if you asked, we’d help you with stuff.”
“I can’t ask you to do any of that,” I said.
She threw her hands up. “Why not? I’m literally offering. You’re not burdening anyone here.”
“No, you don’t get it,” I told her. “I really can’t. My brother can’t handle it.”
“Okay.” She bit her lip like she was thinking before gently telling me, “You know, Riley told us about the thing with the pictures.”
“Did they?” I didn’t know how I felt about that.
“Yeah.” Her look said she felt sorry for me, which bothered me. If she understood anything about the situation, the only person she’d be feeling sorry for was Jamie.
“Look, what do you want me to say?” I said. I was beginning to be fed up with this conversation.
She thought for a while before saying, “You know, I’m not gonna pretend that I understand what you’re going through. But why don’t you just start eating lunch with us again? You have the time for that, and shutting yourself off won’t do anyone favors in the long run.”
I scratched at the scab on my wrist. Sitting alone did make me feel like shit, and Jamie wouldn’t have to know if it was only on campus. Right? “I’ll think about it,” I told her.
She smiled. “Okay, I’m glad.”
I looked down at my sandwich taking a bite of it and chewing awkwardly as I tried to thing of something else to say. She watched me, not saying anything, either, which made it even more awkward. I finally swallowed and said, “So anyway, what’s going on with you?”
That got a small laugh from her. “Well, I had a kind of weird date yesterday that I don’t know what to make of, if you want to hear about it.”
Sentences like that never failed to pique my interest. “Um, yes I want to hear about it.”
She cleared her throat and sat up, as if getting ready to talk for a while. It made my smile grow wider as I took another bite, tucking in. “Okay, honestly, right off the bat, her Tinder profile wasn’t all too great.”
“Please tell me you took screenshots,” I said.
“Of course!” She got out her phone, tapped a few things and handed it to me. “You can scroll a bit. There’s like, four.”
“Okay.” The profile was of a woman named Sarah. In the first picture, which was horribly lit, she awkwardly stood to the side of the frame holding some kind of box. Was it a toolbox? Her clothes definitely looked like she was doing some kind of manual labor, they were stained in multiple places. “I mean, the ability to fix things on your own is kind of hot,” I said. “I guess the picture’s not too great, but you can’t expect everyone to own a ringlight.”
“Yeah, but they’re all like that,” Billie said, reaching over to swipe. “They look like she doesn’t have any pictures of herself except for ones her parents took of her while she was in a bad mood.”
I couldn’t deny the truth, even if I felt a little bad for Sarah. “Okay, yeah.”
“And it wasn’t just that,” Billie continued. “When we were texting, she kept using that weird monkey emoji where the monkey’s holding both hands over its eyes, even for things that weren’t remotely funny. Like, I asked her what she was studying, and she said film and put three of them.”
“She’s studying film?” I asked, somewhat incredulous as I went through the photos again.
“I know, right?” Billie agreed. “I mean, I guess photos are different?”
“Yeah, and maybe you learn more about analyzing existing films than making new ones,” I suggested.
“That can’t be true,” Billie said. “That would make absolutely zero sense.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know anything about film, okay?”
She sighed. “Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I still went on a date with her, because our interests did seem kind of similar, and some people just suck at texting, you know? Besides, I thought there was no way she could use that emoji in real life.”
I frowned. “What do you mean, thought?”
She gave me a look like she was doing her very best not to crack up, then put a hand on my shoulder and leaned forward. “Alex, I kid you not,” she said, looking me straight in the eyes. “I see her across the street, walk over, say, ‘Hi! You’re Sarah, right?’ and she says ‘Yeah!’ and fucking grins and puts both hands over her eyes. Exactly like the monkey.”
“Okay.” I tried to wrap my mind around it. “Did she keep doing that the whole date?”
“Yes!” Billie nodded her head, moving it up and down so quickly I worried about her brain banging too hard against her skull. “All the time. After almost every sentence. Everything was fine, we did get along pretty well, but I don’t know if I can get over the emoji.”
Slowly, a laugh began building its way up inside of me. “Oh god. I kind of feel bad for her. She’s probably just really insecure.”
“I know, and that’s why I feel bad!” Billie whined. “Would it be mean to break things off over that?”
“I mean, only if you tell her that’s the reason,” I said. “You can break things off for whatever reason you want.”
“Yeah.” She started cracking up. “I’m sorry, it’s just, of all the emojis! Why did it have to be that one!”
I joined her, a fit of giggles bubbling up in my stomach at the thought of a person pretending to be an emoji. “Oh god,” I said as my stomach began cramping. “I need to get to Bio.”
We managed to get up and hug before I turned around to speedwalk inside, still grinning as I thought of the monkey girl. I only stopped once I reached the room and saw Riley. I made my way over with an apologetic look on my face.
They didn’t exactly smile, but moved their coat from the chair next to them so I could sit. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I said, feeling self-conscious. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting after my talk with Billie, a fanfare of excitement?
“Did Billie talk to you?” they asked, dropping to a whisper along with everyone else as Professor Raymond stood up.
“Yeah. Sorry for acting weird,” I whispered back.
They shrugged. “It’s okay. I get it.”
A few minutes into the lecture, Riley showed me a note.
I missed last time, can I look at your notes?
I nodded and sent them over, circling the parts important for today. “Sorry about my handwriting,” I whispered.
A smile traced their lips. “It’s fine, I think I’m starting to get better at reading it.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Omar’s voice sounded from the studio entrance. “I forgot my bag and had to go back.”
“It’s fine, you’re here now,” Aaliyah called over the music. “We’re just practicing our split leaps.”
I watched anxiously as Omar set down his things, then got in line next to me. I smiled at him. “Hey.”
“Hi.” He gave me a quick hug.
Before I could figure out what that meant, it was my turn. “That looks great!” Aaliyah praised me. “Good job.”
I couldn’t conceal my obvious smile as I headed to the back of the line and watched Omar. He looked incredibly graceful as he jumped, almost getting to full splits.
“Point your toes,” Aaliyah reminded him, then turned to the next girl.
“Can we talk after class?” I mumbled under my breath once he was back beside me.
“Sure,” he mumbled back.
--------------------
“So, I talked to my ex, and he told me about this thing called internalized homophobia,” I explained to Omar as we walked along Main Street.
“Okay?” He gave me a quizzical laugh.
“I know, it sounds dumb,” I said, giggling along with him. “But like, I’m sorry if I made you hate yourself.”
“Um, wow. Okay.” Omar stopped at a bench. “So you like, did research and everything?”
“Kind of,” I admitted.
“That’s like, really sweet,” he told me. “But don’t worry, you didn’t make me hate myself.”
I smiled. “So are we good?”
He looked uncertain, and my smile slipped. “If we see each other at school, are you gonna ignore me?”
“No,” I said, though the thought of being out at school left a bitter taste in my mouth.
“You promise?”
I wondered if that had ever happened to him. “Yes,” I said, more forcefully this time. “I want to be friends with you.”
He gave me a tight hug, which we held for a while. When he pulled away, he said, “You want to hang out for a little while longer?”
I agreed, and we walked around before deciding to go to Urban Outfitters.
“Are you gonna be weird if we go in the women’s section?” Omar asked as we entered.
I forced back my anxiety, not wanting to disappoint him twice in a week. “No.”
“You sure? We don’t have to,” he assured me, even though I could see in his face that he really wanted to.
“No, really. It’s fine,” I promised.
He gave me an excited grin which was definitely worth getting over my nerves for, then dragged me over to a rack of flowy, ankle-length lilac skirts. “What do you think of this?” he asked, holding one out to me.
I had to admit it was pretty beautiful. “Well, it is my favorite color.”
“Really?” He asked curiously. “Specifically lilac, or purple in general?”
“Purple in general, but I like lilac the most,” I explained. Best of all things with actual lilacs on them. I used to have a cream-colored shirt with them on the front, but I’d only worn it once or twice before it had disappeared to the bottom of my closet when Dad noticed it.
“I think it would suit you,” Omar said, and I took a step back. He understood. “Too far?”
“Sorry,” I apologized.
“Don’t be,” he dismissed. “You can just give me advice.”
We picked out two more blouses for Omar and a few bucket hats for me to try on. There was a yellow one with daisies I especially liked, but the green complimented my dark brown hair more.
I was looking at myself in the mirror when Omar called from his changing room, “Do you want to ask if we can have a sleepover this weekend? We could watch a movie, paint our nails, that kind of stuff.”
“What movie?” I asked, even though I already knew my answer would be yes.
“Mean Girls?” he suggested.
“I’ve never seen it,” I admitted.
“What?” he poked his head out from behind the curtain to stare incredulously at me. “Okay, we definitely need to remedy that.”
I laughed. “Okay, I’ll ask.”
--------------------
Omar’s parents only felt okay if the sleepover was at their house, which Alex understood and agreed to without a second thought. After finally wrestling his dad’s laptop from the hands of his little sister, we snuggled in his double bed, the movie playing and a huge bowl of freshly popped popcorn between us. Omar kept watching my reaction to his favorite scenes, which was a little unnerving.
“Did you like it?” he asked once the movie was over.
“Yeah, it was funny,” I said.
He seemed disappointed. “Did you like the part where she got hit by a bus?”
I was a bit concerned that that was apparently his favorite part. “I mean, I thought it was kind of random,” I told him honestly.
He adjusted his position, leaning back against the pillows now that he didn’t have to look at the screen anymore. “What movies do you like, then?”
I thought about it. “I like Jennifer’s Body.”
He grinned. “Oh, that movie’s awesome.”
I moved the laptop and empty popcorn bowl to the floor so I could look at him. “Let me guess, you liked the part where she ate people.”
“Not only that,” he defended himself. “Did you know the whole demon thing is like, a metaphor about sexual assault? I watched this youtube video about it.”
“Really?” Maybe I needed to watch the movie again, because I hadn’t even thought of that.
He nodded. “Yeah. Can you hand me the laptop? I’ll show you.” I did, and he went to youtube and typed in rowan ellis jennifers body before turning the screen to show me thirty minute video of a blue-haired girl talking about the movie. It was interesting enough, especially since I’d only ever streamed the movie and didn’t know any of the lore around it’s initial release, but still, I could feel my eyelids growing heavier as we watched it.
I felt Omar nudge me and jerked awake. “Are you even paying attention?” he asked reproachfully.
“What? Sorry,” I said in a daze.
“How are you already tired? It’s not even ten.”
I checked the time on the laptop. 9:34. “Your bed is too comfortable.” He had a much softer mattress than mine, and he’d already put on his soft, thick bedsheets for the winter. They were a pale blue fleece material, and lying under them was like having fluffy clouds as a blanket.
“Do you want to go to sleep?” Omar asked.
“No,” I said, rousing myself. “But let’s do something else.”
Omar had been serious about painting his nails, so we went to the bathroom. I was able to help him with what he called the base on his left hand, but was no use for the intricate gold designs he wanted on top of the light pink color. I loved watching Omar paint. It was mesmerizing how swiftly he drew the perfectly straight lines, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.
“Can you do something cool on my toes?” I asked, figuring no one would see them anyway.
“Sure, what do you want?” he asked.
“I don’t know, just do whatever you want.” He had a lot more of an artistic sense than I did.
He gave me a lilac base and painted tiny purple flowers on top. “You could be a surgeon with these hands,” I observed, impressed.
He smiled, careful not to laugh and mess up. “Don’t say that in front of my parents. Their expectations are high enough as it is.”
“Don’t worry,” I assured him. “I don’t know what surgeon means in Spanish, anyway.”
“Cirujano,” he informed me.
I probably wouldn’t remember the word for very long. “Cirujano,” I repeated, and he nodded approvingly. I smiled, proud that my Spanish was getting better. I wanted to be good at one thing, at least.
“Muy bien,” he teased.
I knew what that meant. “How long do I have to sit here until it’s dry?” I asked when he was done.
Omar shrugged. “I usually wait like, five to ten minutes.” He screwed the cap back on the indigo polish awkwardly, taking care not to smudge his nails. It went back in the cabinet, and I felt a small pang of jealousy about how casual he felt in his home, but it was gone almost as quickly as it came.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” I asked him.
“Sure,” he replied, sitting down again and blowing on his nails gently.
“Was you being gay ever like… a problem for your parents?” I said it in a hushed voice, not knowing who might be in the hall to overhear us.
It clearly didn’t matter, though, because his tone was normal when he replied, making me cringe a little. “No, not really. I think they’re kind of worried about me getting bullied, but they don’t actually care.”
“I mean, you do get bullied,” I pointed out.
“I don’t know if I’d call it bullying,” he said dismissively. “I get picked on sometimes.” He looked up from his nails. “Why? How did your parents react?”
I averted my gaze. In a tone that indicated that I didn’t want to elaborate, I said, “There’s a reason I live with my brother.”
“Oh, right,” Omar said awkwardly. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said, and for once, I wasn’t lying.
We were both silent until we decided to go back to his room, me walking awkwardly on my heels. I cringed at how loud my steps were being on the wooden floorboards, but relaxed when his little sister came stomping up the stairs, making about three times the noise I was.
We stayed up past midnight talking. I was still tired when Alex came to pick me up the next morning in a suspiciously good mood. I decided not to prod.
The next week at school, I walked past Noah and sat alone during lunch.
I started making Jamie help me cook. Anything to get him out of his room once in a while. This evening, I had him help me cut the veggies, which meant we were sitting across from each other at the dining table that doubled as the only workspace in the small kitchen. It reminded me of the few times Mom and John would go on trips and leave us alone. It would allow us rare occasions of moving freely throughout the house, and some of my favorite memories of us cooking actual good food were created then. I hadn’t known a thing about flavors or spices, but Google was a good teacher.
“Do you know how much longer we’re gonna stay here?” Jamie asked when he was in the middle of his third carrot, surprising me. He hadn’t initiated a normal conversation with me since we’d been reunited.
“We’ll see,” I told him. “I’m supposed to get an answer from a few places tomorrow.”
“Are they further away from school?” he asked.
“Some are, but you’ll be able to take the bus.” Not having to drive him every day was gonna take a shit ton off of my plate. “Are you looking forward to it?” I prodded gently, eager to keep him talking.
He shrugged. “It’ll just be nice to have a more permanent place, you know?”
I did. I couldn’t wait to have my own room again. “If you want, you can start looking for furniture,” I suggested. “You’ll need a new bed and stuff.”
He brightened, lifting his angry mask for a rare moment. “I can pick stuff out myself?”
I chuckled. “Yeah, as long as it’s cheap. You pick some things out from Ebay.”
He looked kind of awed. “I thought we’d be driving back to get the rest of our stuff,” he admitted.
I shook my head. “No. We’d need a bigger car, and we can just use the gas money for furniture. And besides,” I added the last part darkly. “There’s no way I’m ever going back there.”
He was silent, then said in a small voice, “I guess I’m lucky you came back for me, then.”
I set down my knife. “Jamie,” I said. “I love you.”
He focused on his pepper. An uneasy feeling passed through me as I realized how easy it was for him to get access to a knife. “I told you to stop saying that.”
I watched him cut the pepper into perfectly thin strips, then turn it so he could dice them. The words tumbled out of me before I could think them through. “You know, I have some friends who work at a dance studio. They could set up a trial class if you want to check it out.”
He frowned. “Friends? You’ve never had those before.”
I decided to ignore the comment. “Do you want to try it out or not?”
He hesitated. “Like, an actual dance studio? Who’s gonna pay for it, your dad?” He emphasized the derogatory tone on the last word.
“I’ll figure it out,” I dismissed. I’d pick up fifty extra shifts per week if it meant Jamie getting him something to do.
He filled the diced peppers into our large mixing bowl before replying. “Okay, whatever.”
--------------------
The thing Aaliyah organizing turned out to be a protest about something to do with housing. I saw her immediately, standing in front of the maybe fifty people and shouting into a megaphone. When she saw me, she handed the megaphone to the curly-haired person next to her and jogged over. “You came!” She threw her arms around me.
“Of course!” It hadn’t been entirely by choice, as it was taking place in front of the building I’d just had my English lecture in.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” She dragged me towards the crowd and started telling me names, none of which I remembered. None of them mattered anyway, because soon I was just following her and doing my best to blend into the crowd by copying the slogans everyone was shouting. Aaliyah was the opposite, routinely taking the megaphone again and starting her own chants. When it was over, everyone started to disperse, some taking the signs with them. I doubted they had made much of a difference besides bothering a few students.
“What did you think?” Aaliyah asked me as we were leaving.
“I don’t know,” I replied truthfully. “I’ve never been to a protest before.”
“Really?” She seemed surprised, which made me feel somewhat embarrassed.
“Yeah, I’ve never really had the time,” I defended myself.
She was still skeptical. “Well, I think people should always make time for politics. This stuff directly affects you, you know. Like, we were protesting for lower rent, and you’re looking for an apartment right now.”
I knew that. I wasn’t dumb. “Well, what happens now?” I asked her.
“What do you mean?” Her jewelry clacked as she looked up at me.
“I mean, you all came here, made some noise, and now you’re leaving.” I motioned to the now empty space, free of any sign that the protest had ever been there. “How does that change anything? Politicians and landlords won’t care, they’ll just ignore you.”
“Okay, I’ll admit this wasn’t necessarily the most affective thing I’ve ever done,” she relented. “Peaceful protests never are. But we’re organizing, which means we can set up other things. Like, we do mutual aid for unhoused people. And we’re raising awareness.”
I didn’t know what mutual aid meant exactly, but it did sound more meaningful. “That makes sense, I guess.”
She grinned. “How do you feel about discussing this more over coffee?”
“I don’t really drink coffee,” I admitted. “And I have to go to work. It’s probably not very busy now, though. You can come and hang out if you want.”
--------------------
She agreed, which made it a lot harder to focus as she smiled at me from across the counter, sipping on her hot chocolate. It turned out she wasn’t much of a coffee person, either.
“Excuse me, are you dumb? My son wants a cookie, just give him one,” a lady was yelling at me.
“Ma’am, as I said, we don’t sell cookies,” I explained again in my overly friendly customer service voice. “I can offer you muffins and a variety of sandwiches.”
“He doesn’t want a muffin, he wants a cookie,” she snapped. “Honestly, this generation knows nothing about good customer service. What kind of café doesn’t sell cookies?”
I shared a ‘what the fuck’ glance with Aaliyah, who surprised me by coming to my rescue. “Lady, he already told you they don’t sell them. Just go somewhere else. There’s like, three more cafés on this block.”
If looks could kill, Aaliyah would have been incinerated on the spot. The woman huffed and marched out the door, dragging her poor son with her. I sighed, wishing some billionaire would invent a substance to inject into people’s brains at birth to make them be polite. Forget government surveillance, customer service workers need chip technology more.
“Thanks,” I said to Aaliyah, walking over to her. We were now the only ones in the small space. Most customers ordered to go rather than sitting on an uncomfortable chair in the dimly lit room.
“No problem. Do you get people like her a lot?” she asked.
I grimaced. “Unfortunately.”
“How much are they paying you again?”
I still wasn’t used to her bluntness. “Uh, minimum wage,” I answered uncomfortably.
“Is that what your coworkers are earning, too?”
“I actually don’t know,” I admitted.
“You should ask around,” she said matter-of-factly. “Not asking is how they rip you off.”
“Yeah, maybe I will,” I lied. I’d only been here a few months, I didn’t want to start rocking the boat. “By the way, how much do classes at your studio cost? They didn’t say anything on the website.” I braced myself for what was probably gonna be a number way out of my budget.
She let out a sigh of annoyance. “Yeah, Jenny thinks writing the prices will scare away potential students.” Okay, so they were definitely high enough for me to forget about it. My heart wrenched at the prospect of having to explain that one to Jamie. Maybe I could- “Are you asking for your brother? ‘Cause I have an employee discount I get to use for one person. I could use it for him.”
I blinked, surprised at her offer. She definitely wasn’t joking, and she said it so casually I didn’t know how to react. “Really? That’s so nice, but you don’t have to do that. If you can only use it for one person-”
“Alex, it’s fine. Really.” She said it with a gentle smile that made her brown eyes light up. “I wouldn’t be offering if it wasn’t fine.”
That was probably true. In the short time I’d known Aaliyah, I’d come to understand that she was an incredibly honest person. “Okay, if you’re sure. How much would it be with the discount, then?”
She hesitated. “Um, well, how much can you afford?” she asked uncertainly.
I frowned. “What does that have to do with it?”
She took a long sip of her hot chocolate before answering. “I’m just trying to figure out what class would work,” she said when she finally set her cup down.
“Oh.” I was still a little confused but chuckled when she looked up at me. “You have some hot chocolate in your face.”
Her eyebrows scrunched together in the cutest way possible. “Where?”
“It’s like, on your upper lip.”
She dabbed at it with a napkin. “Gone?”
“…yeah.”
She frowned again. “Why did you hesitate?”
“I didn’t!”
“Yes, you did,” she accused. “Is it really gone?”
“Yes,” I promised. “I just wasn’t entirely sure.”
She studied me for a moment, then got out her phone and looked in the selfie camera. When she was satisfied I was telling the truth, she put it away. “What were we talking about?”
“Class prices,” I supplied. “I think I could afford like… ten dollars a class?” I felt humiliated telling her the small number, but lying about what you could afford only tended to get you into worse positions. “I mean, that’s what I have right now. If I picked up some extra shifts, that would get me higher. Maybe to like, thirty.”
She was back to being matter-of-fact. “No, you don’t have to do that. There’s a contemporary class on Wednesdays that could be ten with the discount.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “How much is it usually?”
“Forty bucks. The discount is pretty high since I teach the class.”
“Wow. That would be great, obviously. Thank you so much.”
“It’s not a problem. I’m just glad I could help.” She smiled at me again, then moved her hand forwards so her fingertips were brushing with mine, making my heart lurch.
We were interrupted by the bell ringing as a string of students walked in. I went over to serve them, falling back into my customer service routine. It went on for the next forty-five minutes, barely giving me time to even glance at Aaliyah as more and more students filed in. Only one customer was from a different demographic- an older lady with a dog. Aaliyah watched me silently at first, then eventually got out her laptop.
“What are you working on?” I asked after the last customer left, wiping down the counter to clean up their messes. She lifted her laptop so I could wipe there, too.
“Just an info post about the protest for Instagram,” she answered as if it was the most normal thing in the world. She looked around. “Is everyone gone?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty quiet during class times,” I explained. “They usually come in waves during the breaks.”
“Oh. That’s sounds pretty nifty. It must be nice having it be so predictable.”
“I guess. It gets kind of boring sometimes.”
“Maybe I could visit you more often, then,” she said with a small smile.
I felt my cheeks warm. “Yeah, that would be cool.”
She propped an elbow on the counter, resting her chin on her hand. “How have you been, anyway? The stuff with your brother must have been pretty stressful. What’s his name again? Jamie?”
I nodded, grabbing a rag to wipe down the counter so I wouldn’t have to look at her. “Yeah. It is, but it’s nothing I’m not used to. I always knew this was gonna happen.”
She looked uneasy. “You knew he’d end up in the hospital?”
“I knew he’d have to come live with me,” I clarified. “I didn’t see the hospital coming. I really fucked that one up.” I bit my lip to keep a straight face.
“You can’t blame yourself,” she said gently. “You didn’t put him there.”
I swallowed. I knew she was trying to help, but she didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. “I just wish I’d been paying more attention,” I explained with a lump in my throat. “I shouldn’t have misjudged the situation the way I did.”
“The situation with your dad?”
“With Jamie’s dad. We’re half-brothers, technically, but I haven’t seen my dad since I was three. He lives in California with my sister.”
“Oh yeah, I remember. The one paying for your tuition, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
She switched her head to her other hand. “So, were you always taking care of Jamie? ‘Cause you said you were used to it.”
It was probably too early in our relationship to trauma dump this much, but since she was asking, I said, “Yeah, pretty much. He was an accident, and for some goddamn reason they decided to keep him even though they already hated having me around. But I don’t resent him or anything. I love him more than anything.” I could already feel the guilt rising and grabbed a napkin to wipe at the tears forming in my eyes. “Oh God, sorry. This is embarrassing.”
“It’s not!” she said immediately. “It’s fucking normal, especially with what you’re going through.” I expected her to add something about how men not crying had something to do with the patriarchy, but she seemed to realize this wasn’t the time for a sociology lesson.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m just telling the truth.”
I laughed. “Yeah, but I don’t mean just that. Thanks for everything. You barely know me, but you drove me all the way to Illinois, now you’re giving me the discount…” I grabbed another napkin to stop even more tears, but it was hopeless. They were falling uncontrollably now.
She smiled. “Well, the drive was an emergency. I wasn’t gonna let you drive drunk.”
She held my hand for a bit, then walked behind the counter to hug me. She was a good hugger, her arms wrapping tightly around my chest without making me feel suffocated.
“I’m probably getting tears in your hair,” I apologized once I could somewhat talk again.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I glanced at the clock, realizing it would be pretty embarrassing if a customer came in now. “I should probably go freshen up a bit before the next rush,” I told her, extracting myself from the hug.
“Are you sure you’re okay to keep working?”
“I mean, I don’t have much of a choice,” I pointed out. “Fair enough,” she relented, though she didn’t look happy about letting me go.
