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.
I decided to make the story have parts, and this is the beginning of Part 2, which means there's a time skip. I tried to make this chapter introduce Jamie again as a character, because he's obviously changed a lot in the time we missed. I'd love to hear any thoughts and constructive criticism!
My breath fogged the mirror as I leaned close to it, concentrating. I’d gotten a lot better at eyeliner over the years. In the beginning, it had taken me twenty minutes to manage an awkward, jagged line but now, it was flawless in less than two minutes.
I still ended up running late, like I always did. I grabbed my backpack and ran past Alex, deciding to skip breakfast. “Bye!” I yelled.
He called something back, but I was already awkwardly walking to the elevator with my boots half put on. I quickly tied my laces as I watched the floors get lower and lower, then began trudging through the snow, barely making it to the bus stop in time.
“Nice makeup,” Oliver snickered as I walked past him.
“Fuck you, too,” I threw back, softly enough so Mrs. Broderick wouldn’t hear.
Still, I threw myself onto a seat at the very back of the bus and pulled up my hood. The confidence boost I’d gotten this morning was already beginning to wear off, leaving room for anxiety. I put on my headphones and selected Ancient Dreams in a Modern World to drown out my thoughts with Marina’s voice. It worked to an extent, but I still caught myself thinking about running to the bathroom and smearing off the makeup the first chance I got. What had I been thinking? Now that I was almost an adult, I was incapable of being bullied?
I stared intently at the ground as I got off the bus, so I only noticed Omar once he was standing right in front of me. I jumped a little, then threw my arms around him. “Happy birthday!” I squealed loudly enough to make a few people turn their heads.
He happily let me ambush him. “You, too!”
“Mine’s not ‘till tomorrow,” I reminded him, like I did every year. Omar, unlike me, loved being the center of attention. I didn’t see why he had to try and share his spotlight with me before it was my turn.
“Yeah, but we’re celebrating today,” he argued. “You look great, by the way.” I’d pulled away from him, so he could admire my makeup.
“Yeah, I got a stupid burst of confidence this morning,” I explained. “I don’t know where it came from.”
He tilted his head. “You want my makeup wipes?”
I did, but I’d also promised myself I wouldn’t backtrack this morning. And what if I ran into Oliver again? He’d know he won. “No, it’s fine.”
The bell rang, so we turned around and started heading inside. “Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”
--------------------
I should have wiped the makeup off. I could feel people watching me as I moved through the halls, desperate for the day to be over. I could have cried I was so relieved when the final bell rang. I almost ran, my mind blank except for getting to the bus, when I suddenly collided with someone in a full-body slam.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, you fucking faggot.” It was Oliver. He didn’t seem particularly angry, he just snickered, which somehow made it all worse.
I saw red. Later, I’d realize that my fight or flight response had apparently changed to fight at some point in the last four years. I didn’t have control over my body. It was as if the fist that connected with Oliver’s jaw was someone else’s, and I was only watching it happen. He stumbled back a few steps, holding his chin. I couldn’t tell if he was in pain or just in shock. It didn’t matter though, because everyone around had seen what happened, including three teachers.
I instinctively looked around for Omar, but he was nowhere to be found. I heard someone say “Hey!” and felt myself being physically pulled away from Oliver, which seemed unnecessary. He’d already put some steps between us, and I’d made no move to fill them. “Both of you to the principal’s office. Now.”
--------------------
Oliver’s parents didn’t seem like very nice people. His dad was currently towering over me, berating me for daring to lay hands on his son. The confident Jamie from this morning would have told him that if he was gonna raise such a homophobic asshole, he had to be prepared for the consequences, but of course all current Jamie did was shrink back into the stiff chair. I watched as Oliver smirked at me over his dad’s shoulder, ignoring his mom who was fawning over him as if he’d just been traumatized for life. He wasn’t even traumatized physically. There was only a slight bruise. To their side, Principal McLean was sitting at her desk, holding her head in her hands, giving off the energy of someone who just wanted to go home.
The door opened, and the sound of Alex’s quick steps cut through the room. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he said to Oliver’s dad, shoving him to the side before kneeling in front of my chair. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Someone sucked in a sharp breath. “Is he okay?” Oliver’s mom said incredulously. “He attacked my son!”
It was as if I’d suddenly and violently fallen back into my body, the weight of the situation punching me in the chest and knocking the wind out of me. Tears welled up in my eyes and quickly started streaming down my face. Alex immediately got up and wrapped his arms around me.
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed. Did he understand it was meant for him and not Oliver? I’d ruined everything. I was gonna be kicked out of school months before graduation, and Alex was gonna have to pick up the pieces like he always did. What had he been doing when Principal McLean called him? Had it been important?
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he calmed me. I was painfully aware of the other four people in the room staring at us, but I felt physically unable to pull myself together.
Eventually, my sobbing lessened somewhat, and McLean cleared her throat. “Jamie, you still haven’t told us your side of the story.”
I swallowed and lifted my chin to look him straight in the eyes. “Oliver called me a faggot, so I punched him.”
She raised her eyebrows slightly, then looked to Oliver. My heart thumped as I tightened my grip on Alex’s arm. Like I’d been hoping, he seemed to pick up on the name Oliver. He gave me a questioning look, which I answered with a slight nod, at which point he turned back to face the room. “Ma’am, this isn’t the first time this has happened,” Alex announced in his grown-up voice that left little room for argument. “This kid has been bullying Jamie for years, which has gone largely unnoticed by the teachers and administration. He was bound to break at some point. If anything, the school should feel responsible for letting the situation escalate to this degree.”
Okay, I hadn’t been expecting him to go that hard. He seemed to be fuming behind the tight-lipped stare he was directing at Ms. McLean, who seemed to be taken aback.
Oliver’s dad actually scoffed. “Oh, give me a break. Everything’s bullying these days. Hurt feelings don’t give him the right to go around punching people.”
Alex fixed his piercing gaze on him. I’d never been more glad not to be on the other side of it. “What would you call calling people slurs for years?”
Oliver’s dad stared at Alex for a few moments, then apparently decided to try a different approach. “I’m sorry, who even are you? You’re not his dad, that’s for sure. You’re like, twenty.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m his legal guardian,” Alex informed the room. “As I was saying, Principal McLean, can I expect the school to take any measures against the rampant homophobia among students?” His hand was still on my shoulder, making me relax. I slowly started to sink back into the chair and let myself zone out as they argued. Eventually, it was decided that we’d be moved to different classes, nothing else. I couldn’t believe it, and neither could Oliver’s family. They stuttered in protest, but McLean had had enough and kicked us all out of her office. Alex quickly ushered me past them and to the parking lot.
“Jamie,” he said once we were in the car.
“Yeah,” I said to show him I was listening, not moving my gaze from the window.
“I’m not mad at you,” he assured me. “I meant it when I said you did nothing wrong. But you need to be careful. The world isn’t fair, and you might not get off as easily next time.”
Nothing about this had felt easy. “I know,” I replied, forcing back tears.
He sighed and reached over to stroke my hair. “Don’t let this ruin your weekend, okay? Let’s just forget about it.”
I nodded. It seemed to be enough. He didn’t mention it again.
--------------------
The sound of Omar’s excited footsteps could be heard the second Aaliyah rang the doorbell. He wrenched open the door with a grin.
“Happy birthday!” Aaliyah said, giving him a hug.
“Come in, come in!” he said, moving to the side.
We all walked in, Alex carrying the cake and me carrying my present for him. It wasn’t heavy, but it was lumpy and impractical for both holding and wrapping. I’d thought I’d done an okay job at the latter, though. The creases were almost only in the places I’d wanted them to be.
“You can put that in the kitchen,” Omar directed Alex once we’d taken our shoes off.
“Thanks,” he said, following the sound of voices.
I was about to head after him when Omar stopped me. “Are you okay?”
I tried to look believably confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t know, you’re kind of quiet.”
I glanced in the direction of the kitchen, trying to gauge if they could hear us.
Omar followed my gaze, then said more loudly, “Why don’t we bring my present to my room?”
I gratefully followed him. The second he shut the door behind him, the information burst out of me. “I punched Oliver.”
He spun around, looking understandably shocked. “What? When? Are you in trouble?”
“After school,” I explained. “And everything’s fine, Alex handled it.”
“You’re not even in detention or anything?” he asked in disbelief.
I shook my head. “Nope. You should have seen Alex.” We sat down on the bed and I detailed everything that had happened in Principal McLean’s office.
“I can’t believe you actually punched him,” Omar said. There was a tone of admiration in his voice. I looked up to see him grinning at me.
I couldn’t help it. The corners of my mouth curved into a small smile, too. “I did.” It was something I’d been imagining for years, but never seriously.
“Thank God Alex was there,” Omar said, rocking back and forth. “Just… wow. You just made this the best birthday ever, you know that, right?”
I laughed. “I thought you were gonna tell me how stupid it was,” I admitted.
“I mean, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do,” Omar said. “But it all worked out, so who cares? It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.”
Maybe Omar was right. It didn’t feel fair that I had to feel bad about the one time I’d retaliated after years of bullying. I reached over to hug him, already feeling better. “Do you want to open your present now?”
He took it eagerly, feeling the shape. “Did you knit me something?”
I pursed my lips, my heart pounding as I watched him rip open the wrapping paper. This moment had been playing over and over again in my head since I’d come up with the idea, and I had to focus to make sure my face wouldn’t give away how anxious I was.
He picked up the cardigan I’d gotten to know by heart over the past few months and studied it. “Oh my god, it’s Mabel’s star!” he said, already ecstatic as he pointed at the shooting star on one of the pink patches. I smiled, waiting for the rest to dawn on him. “Wait,” he said as he touched the patch with the question mark, then the llama. “Are they all…?”
I nodded.
“You knitted me a Gravity Falls cardigan?” he said, looking at me in disbelief.
“Yeah,” I confirmed, my heart swelling as he excitedly pulled the sweater he was wearing over his head and put the cardigan on. It was a perfect oversize fit.
“It’s really good,” he said, running his finger along the ribbing.
“I practiced a lot before I started,” I explained.
“I can tell.” He hugged me again. “I’m never taking this off.”
I laughed into his shoulder, but a twinge of sadness stabbed at me as I thought of him wearing it in some college dorm far away from me. At least he’d always have a part of me with him.
He was the one to eventually pull away. “Do you want to open yours, too?”
I gave him a look. He knew how I felt about celebrating early.
“Okay, okay,” he relented. “Let’s just go downstairs.”
We found Omar’s family, Aaliyah and Alex sitting around the coffee table. “There you two are,” Omar’s dad joked. “We were getting close to cutting the cake without you!”
We laughed politely and I squeezed next to Alex on the couch while Omar sat cross-legged on the carpet. It was a nice cake. Pumpkin spice with a layer of frosting on top, and lettering that simply said ‘Happy 18th birthday’. ‘Jamie and Omar’ probably would have been too long. His mom offered me the knife, but I motioned for her to give it to Omar. I couldn’t even enjoy the cake properly as I watched the minutes tick by.
“Can’t wait for it to be your turn?” Alex teased when I pulled out my phone for the fifth time.
“Nope,” I lied, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth that had nothing to do with the cake.
Alex raised his glass for a toast. “To Jamie and Omar. May the two of you achieve everything you want to in life.”
Damn, that was intense. A shiver ran up my spine. I glanced at Omar, relieved to see that he looked uncomfortable, too.
“Speaking of what you want to do in life,” Aaliyah started, making everyone look up, “Jenny asked me if any of my students would be up for teaching the after-school classes for the little kids. You know, the Monday and Thursday ones.”
“Why isn’t Jenny doing them anymore?” Omar asked curiously.
Aaliyah shrugged. “She just said she wanted to cut back her hours. She said to tell you you can do it together if you want, since it’s your first time teaching.”
Omar looked strangely thrilled. “That would be so cool! Imagine us working together.”
I wasn’t so sure. I looked at the pair of them skeptically, then at everyone else since I seemed to be the only one seeing the obvious problem with this suggestion. “We’d be teaching?” I asked Aaliyah pointedly for confirmation.
“Yeah,” Aaliyah said, much too casually for my liking. “I thought you might want a chance to earn some easy cash.”
“How is teaching easy?” I asked, still unconvinced. “Are you sure we’re like, qualified for that?”
Aaliyah and Alex exchanged a look, and I saw Omar’s smile slip. “C’mon, Jamie, it’s just the basics,” he pointed out. “It’s the dance equivalent of teaching a first grader how to add.”
Yeah, but if you fucked that up, it would ruin the first grader for the rest of their life.
There was an awkward silence, then Alex nudged me. “Why don’t you think about it? I think it’s a great idea. Getting your first job is a part of growing up, and wouldn’t you rather do this than work at McDonalds?”
A pit formed in my stomach at the words growing up.
“Yeah, and for the record, I’m definitely qualified to decide that you’re qualified,” Aaliyah chimed in.
I hated how good of a point that was.
--------------------
It felt like hours until Omar and I were finally allowed to leave. Everyone followed us out the door.
“Be home by one at the latest, okay?” Omar’s dad said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Omar waved him off.
His dad narrowed his eyes but let us go. It was the only occasion we were ever gonna have such a late curfew, he knew we were smart enough not to abuse it.
We got to the main road before Omar asked for the wine and I directed him to my backpack. He unscrewed the half-empty bottle, took a few sips, then hid it again. Omar didn’t act like Dad when he got tipsy. He laughed a lot, like now when he thought the way the radio host pronounced Eminem was hilarious for some reason.
“He made it sound like M&Ms,” he couldn’t stop giggling. “You know, like skittles?”
It all went to show that Dad had been the problem, not the alcohol. I still wouldn’t trust myself with the stuff though, which Omar didn’t complain about, seeing as it meant he always had a driver.
“You know, if we drove to Canada, this would be legal,” Omar carried on. “Want to drive to Canada?”
I smiled at the way he was acting. “I think that might make us miss our curfew. I can offer you McDonald’s or a lake.”
“Lake,” Omar said. “I don’t have money for McDonald’s.”
I drove through the park and stopped close by the lakeside, leaving some distance between us and the few other cars that were parked. In the summer, we’d lay down a picnic blanket, but now we were glad to have the warmth of the car as we stared at the icy sheets.
“Do you want your present now?” Omar asked.
I took the large rectangular package from him gingerly, suspecting it to be art of some kind. He’d given me some of his printed-out work before, but never anything this big. My favorite was the comic-style Taylor Swift currently hanging over my dresser. It was too thick to be just a drawing, and it didn’t feel like anything framed, either. As I carefully pulled off the tape and undid his neat folds, I caught a glimpse of a canvas.
“Did you paint something?” I asked, intrigued. I’d barely seen him work non-digitally, except maybe sketches.
He just smiled, obviously proud of himself as I uncovered the painting completely. I stared at it in shock.
“Do you like it?” Omar asked, unnerved by my non-reaction.
“I…” I couldn’t find the words. I felt bad, but all I could do was look at it with my mouth hanging slightly open.
It was a portrait of me, except it wasn’t me. It had all of my features down to the scar on my lip and the freckle on my left cheek, but that was where the similarities ended. The person in the portrait looked radiant, almost like an angel. His face shone in a purple light, complemented by the lilacs surrounding him. I had to look closely to see where his curly hair ended and the stems began, giving it the effect that he was one with the flowers. Was this how he saw me?
“Oh my God,” I said, and realized I was crying. What was that, the third time today? “Wow.”
Omar chuckled, interlocking our fingers. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Uhhuh,” I mumbled, not able to tear my eyes away. There were so many details. Every petal was different. I was going to have to hang it somewhere I could easily spend hours analyzing it. “Thank you, really. I love it more than anything.”
He squeezed my hand. “I’m glad. I spent forever deciding how to start. I have almost half a sketchbook filled with ideas.”
The weight of what the painting meant was slowly reaching me. How many hours had he spent painstakingly making sure every brushstroke was perfect, just so he could give me this testament to how much he cared for me?
“I love you,” I told him. Saying it wasn’t awkward anymore. The first few times, we’d both hastily added ‘platonically’ or ‘as a friend’, but that soon stopped being necessary. We both knew what we meant to each other, and we didn’t hesitate to say it as casually as saying goodbye. I was certain no matter what happened, he’d always be my best friend in the entire world. But there were some moments like these where it had to be said with intention.
“I love you, too,” he replied easily, then glanced at his phone.
“Well?” I asked.
“10:30,” he said. “Only an hour and a half to go!” He took another sip of the wine for good measure.
“Great,” I grimaced.
He studied me, then set the bottle down. “Why aren’t you happy?”
Lying to him was about as useful as lying to Alex. “I don’t think I’m ready to be an adult,” I admitted.
Omar rolled his eyes. “Turning eighteen doesn’t make you an adult.”
“Maybe not, but graduating does,” I protested, blinking back tears again. “Going to college, getting a job? I’m not ready to move out. I feel like I just got here.”
Omar chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “Aren’t you excited, though? I can’t wait to not have my parents breathing down my neck 24/7.”
“Yeah, but you’re a lot braver than me,” I dismissed. “I cried today because I wore eyeliner.”
Omar raised an eyebrow. “You also punched Oliver.”
“That doesn’t count. I wasn’t thinking.”
Omar leaned back in his seat and stared out at the lake. He was silent for so long, I was starting to be concerned that the booze was hitting him a little too hard when he said “I’m not particularly brave, either. I can’t even tell my parents I got a full scholarship to art school.”
I gaped at him. “What? In Chicago?”
He wiped away tears. “I don’t want to be a fucking doctor or lawyer or whatever.”
Some things clicked into place. “Is this what’s been bothering you lately?”
His silence was answer enough.
“I don’t think you should rule it out just yet,” I tried to encourage him. “Maybe they won’t react as horribly as you think.”
Neither of us believed what I was saying.
“You got a full-ride scholarship,” I protested. “That has to count for something.”
Silence.
“How’d you get it, anyway?” I pushed. “I didn’t even know you applied.”
“There was this competition, and I won,” he explained. “There’s an award ceremony next month, but I’m not gonna go.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Okay, you’re going.”
He gave me a look that said not to push it, which I risked ignoring. “Look, if your parents won’t go, I’m going with you. Promise me you’ll at least think about it.”
He rolled his eyes again, which were still teary. “Okay,” he sniffled, then added, “Does it bother you that we’re both crying on our birthdays?”
Disclaimer: While I have been to Chicago on multiple occasions, I am not, in fact, from Chicago. If anyone who knows the city better than me notices something that makes absolutely zero sense, please let me know. The only exceptions is the whole plotline of Omar winning a scholarship for the art institute, I fully acknowledge I made that up.
My back slammed against the seat, my head hitting the headrest with a resounding thunk that resulted in a throbbing pain to my skull. I watched in horror as we accelerated more and more, convinced we were about to collied with the truck in front of us and bring a painful, early end to this adventure.
“Jesus, slow down!” I yelled at Omar in a panic.
His hands rested on the wheel casually, as if we were creeping along an empty field at five miles per hour. He groaned in exasperation. “I thought we agreed you were gonna get over yourself. We’re literally on the highway.”
I grimaced. He was right, but I still felt like we should be extra careful considering our relative inexperience operating four-thousand-pound death vehicles more commonly known as cars. I already wasn’t a fan of the floor length, baby blue skirt he’d chosen to wear. What if it tangled around the pedals?
When I voiced these concerns to Omar, he again made an infuriatingly valid point. “You know going too slow is dangerous too, right?”
I settled for anxiously watching the road. When my constant comments inevitably became too much for him, I began fiddling with the radio until I managed to connect it to my phone. We passed the time by singing along to Tegan and Sara and country-era Taylor songs at the top of our lungs. The newer ones just weren’t as good for road trips.
“Do you want to play Zitch Dog?” Omar suggested once the playlist was over.
I gave him a side-eye. “What’s that?”
“You say zitch dog whenever you see a dog. Whoever says it first gets a point. I saw it on How I Met Your Mother,” he explained.
“Did they play it on the highway in the show?” I jokingly asked, fully assuming the answer would be no. I was wrong.
“Yeah, why?” he asked.
“Really? Where do they see enough dogs on a highway for it to be interesting?” I pointed out.
Omar seemed stumped. “I don’t know, it might’ve been a fake TV show thing,” he admitted.
“We could do zitch flag, like whenever you see an American flag,” I suggested instead.
“Okay, and if you see a dog, you get ten points,” Omar said enthusiastically, as if we were playing for a prize.
“Deal. Zitch flag.”
“Zitch flag.”
“Zitch flag, zitch flag.”
“Zitch flag.”
“I think the flag thing might be too easy.”
-----------------------
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Omar said to himself, like he had been for the past half hour. His casual grip on the wheel had turned to constantly tapping it while anxiously leaning forward once we’d reached the inner city. I was doing my best to remain calm as cars around us zipped past, cutting in front and switching lanes seemingly at random. There had already been multiple occasions where Omar’d been forced to swerve suddenly, which was the reason for my unwavering grip on the door handle.
“Does that look like we’d fit in there?” Omar asked, motioning with his head to an empty parking spot coming up on our right.
“Um…” How was I supposed to know? I couldn’t see it properly from this angle, but our short window for making the decision was rapidly closing as we sped towards it.
“Does it?” Omar asked again, panicked. “Should I stop?”
“I don’t know, maybe!” I said. How many other parking spots were we going to find?
“Oh god, oh god,” Omar said. “I can’t do it.” I turned my head to watch the spot pass. We would have fit in easily, which felt like a taunt.
“There’ll be other places,” I said, forcing back my instinct to close my eyes and let Omar handle this alone. I thought wistfully back to the time before I had a license and could simply sleep in the back, blissfully unaware of the horrors of the road. “Maybe if we drive a little further out? Like in the direction of the hostel.”
“But then it’ll take ages to get back here, and it’s already one,” Omar brushed me off, the same way he had the other few times I’d made the suggestion. “I want to have enough time to explore.”
“Okay, then I’ll look for parking garages around here,” I said, pulling out my phone.
“Do you know how expensive those things are? Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I supposed to do now?” He began swearing in Spanish as we took the front spot of a left lane merging onto a four-lane road. A car behind us honked, making him look back in panic. “Jamie, I can’t tell where I’m supposed to go!” he yelled, completely switching languages now.
I tried to block out the sound of him hyperventilating as I did my best to understand the layout of the road. Even while squinting, I had trouble finding the path lined for us to merge onto the other side. The car behind us honked again, this time for multiple seconds.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Omar yelled, mostly to himself. “Should I just go?”
“Yeah, I think you’re supposed to follow those lines,” I said in English and pointed. The mixture of languages had become a routine for us in stressful situations.
He stepped on the gas a bit too enthusiastically, but managed to get us through the turn without further incident. Omar glanced in the rearview mirror. “I think I got her stuck behind the red light,” he said, speaking English again.
“She deserves it for having road rage,” I said, though I knew I’d feel bad if I was the one driving. “Can I please just look for a garage now? I’ll even pay for it if you want.”
Omar agreed, probably realizing that paying the fees was infinitely better than getting in the fender bender that was bound to come if we kept our current attitude up. I managed to maneuver him to the nearest one, praying he wouldn’t change his mind once he saw the prices. Luckily, by the time we reached it, he was stressed enough to do anything I said without question.
“Thank god,” he said once we were inside and saw the employee directing the cars. For all his panicking, he slid into his assigned spot with an ease I could only have dreamed of.
Once he’d killed the ignition, he let out a groan and threw his head against the backrest. Despite not having physically exerted myself in the slightest, it took me a few minutes to catch my breath. Omar didn’t seem to be doing any better. When I glanced at him, I found him staring off into space, looking like he was about to throw up.
“That was really good,” I told him once my mind was at least halfway back to normal. “Especially the parking. I would’ve needed like three tries to get that right.”
“You sure?” he said uncertainly. “I’m pretty sure I missed.”
I opened the door to check my side and found the white line a good half foot from the edge of the car, perfectly visible. “Nope, you’re actually really well centered,” I reassured him.
“Okay.” He pressed his forehead against the steering wheel, accidentally honking for a millisecond before he wrenched it away and frantically looked around. “Fuck, sorry!”
After I got over the initial shock, I laughed. “You should be glad your parents aren’t here. I bet they could finance a full date night from the swear jar earnings alone.”
He groaned in lieu of an answer, but gave me a small smile.
“What do you want to do now?” I asked once I’d given him another few minutes. “I think I want to go see the Bean first.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
I frowned. “You know, the Bean.”
He gave me a blank look. “Never heard of it.”
Was he messing with me? How could Omar, artist who wanted to study at the Art Institute of Chicago, not know what the Bean was? But according to his expression, he was being completely serious. “How can you not know what it is?” I asked in disbelief. “You didn’t even come across it when you when you were preparing for the trip?”
Omar looked at me as if I’d just suggested he try and fit the Bean into his mouth. “Why would I prepare for a trip? It’s not school.”
“What was your plan, then?” I asked. “Just walk off in a random direction and hope for the best?”
“No, follow my friend who’s literally from here,” Omar said like it was obvious.
“Well, what if we got separated and you got lost?”
“I have google maps, you donut.” Omar had taken to calling me a donut a few weeks ago, and I still couldn’t decide if it was loving or his way of calling me an idiot.
“What if your phone died?” I pressed.
Omar rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’m sorry I didn’t account for the apocalypse happening while I was packing.”
“That’s not an apocalypse scenario,” I argued. “It’s a perfectly normal and likely thing that could happen, and it’s not even that hard to plan for.”
“Did you plan for it, then?” he asked.
“Of course I did,” I said, thinking of the gigantic power bank in my overnight bag, as well as the smaller one in my backpack Alex always cautioned me to never leave the house without.
“Yeah, well, see, that’s why I don’t have to plan for it,” he said. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me with you around.”
I knew he was teasing me, but I still wished he’d at least keep a small power bank on hand for his own safety. There was no point in pushing the issue, though, so I said, “You’re just lucky I care enough to keep an eye on you.”
He gave me a smug grin. “Damn right I am.”
As we got out of the car, I remembered Omar’s skirt and my throat clammed up. Technically, I knew I should feel safer in a city like Chicago in comparison to our small hometown. But the familiarity I had there somehow made any stares we got fade into the background. Here, I felt like a fish out of water. There was a reason I’d ignored all the bright colors in my closet this morning and picked out blue jeans with the most boring, grey sweatshirt I could find. As we walked past the woman directing the cars, then a security guard and a family, it was as if I could feel their eyes boring into us. I focused on the ground as I fastened my pace, doing my best to get away from them before one of the parents could yell at us for being gay in front of their kids.
“Everything okay?” Omar asked as he sped up with me.
“Fine,” I lied, forcing myself to slow down. I couldn’t ruin this day by being embarrassed of him. This trip was for Omar, and if I was any kind of good friend, I needed to pull myself together. “Sorry, I just had a burst of energy.”
Of course, the amount of stares only increased once we turned onto the street. At least, I imagined they did. Maybe I was fabricating things in my head because I was already expecting them to happen. Wasn’t that what Dr. Klobuchar said I was prone to doing?
It didn’t help that the closer we got to the Bean, the more areas I recognized from a time in my life where I’d felt nothing but small and helpless. I hadn’t been lying when I’d dismissed Alex’s concerns of me coming back. I genuinely hadn’t considered it to be a problem, seeing as we’d barely ever come here with Mom and Dad. Most of my memories were from school trips, maybe a rare shopping afternoon with Mom when we were little, before she’d decided it was easier to leave us at home to fend for ourselves. As we turned onto Michigan Avenue, my stomach did multiple somersaults as I remembered an incident where she’d dragged us from shop to shop for an entire day, yelling when our little legs inevitably couldn’t move fast enough. Eventually, Alex had had to pick me up and carry me.
“I think I need to sit down,” I said to Omar, already looking around for the closest bench. I found one and headed towards it.
“What’s wrong?” Omar asked as he sat down next to me.
I stared at my shoes, trying to force back the bile that had risen in my throat. “I feel kind of sick.”
“Do you think it’s something you ate?”
It definitely wasn’t, but I pretended to entertain the idea. “I don’t know, maybe.”
What was wrong with me? I had tons of happier memories here; the time we went to the aquarium in kindergarten, or the fifth grade trip where we’d been allowed some time to explore on our own and the people in my group had wanted me to sit with them on the bus ride back. Why had my brain felt the need to ignore all of that and conjure up the single negative memory from the absolute deepest depths of my mind? I hadn’t thought of that trip with Mom in at least a decade.
I cleared my throat. “I think… I think coming back here is fucking with my brain more than I thought it would,” I admitted.
“Oh,” Omar said, sounding unsure now. I couldn’t blame him. What did you say?
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to ruin your trip,” I apologized. “I really thought I’d be fine.”
“You’re not,” Omar said. “Just take your time.”
Did Mom still come here? Did she even still live here? With how important reputations were for her, the most in character course of action would have been to move far away from anyone who knew anything about me, Alex and Dad. Alex probably knew where she was, he had to keep in touch with her because of the money. Or maybe that was all regulated through some legal third party I knew nothing about. I’d never paid attention to any custody proceedings, all I knew was that with my injuries as evidence, it had been relatively easy for Alex to win.
“I think I’m fine now,” I said, getting up after a few minutes. I didn’t actually feel any better, but I didn’t see the point in sitting around. Maybe I needed a distraction.
“You sure?” Omar asked, getting up with me.
“Yeah,” I assured him.
We eventually reached the magnificent silver vegetable, and Omar gasped. “Oh my god, I know that thing!”
A girl standing near us turned her head, a smile on her face. I did my best to smile back. She had to be laughing at his reaction, not his outfit.
“I told you, it’s really famous,” I said, hoping I didn’t come across annoyed at the attention he was drawing.
Thankfully, he was too invested to notice. “Yeah, but there’s more to it. Wait.” He stared at the Bean, tilting his head before he gasped. “I know! It was made by that dickhead artist who was gatekeeping colors!”
“Anish Kapoor?” I asked, curious again. The guy’s name had been ingrained in my head by every teacher who’d ever walked past the thing with me.
He gave me an excited look that told me I was in for a good info dump. “Okay, so basically, some scientists or something created a color that was supposed to be the blackest black to ever exist. As in, you could paint a circle with it and it would look like a full-on void. The bean guy copyrighted the color, which is basically the most evil, stuck-up thing an artist can do, so everyone was really mad at him. Then this other artist created a color that was like the pinkest pink, and when you bought it you had to sign you weren’t gonna give it to Kapoor or something.”
“What an icon,” I said, making a mental note to google more about the story later.
“I know, right?” Omar agreed.
We went closer, taking pictures of our distorted reflections from the side and craning our necks as we walked under it.
“I kind of think Cloud Gate fits better when you’re looking at it from here,” I said. The sky’s reflection on the brilliant metal did make it seem like an entrance to another world.
“Yeah,” Omar said.
An older lady spoke up from next to us as we took what had to be our hundredth selfie. “You two want me to take a picture of you?”
I’d never understood the readiness with which some people gave their phones to strangers, but Omar enthusiastically handed his over. I felt awkward posing in such a public place, but I forced myself to plaster on a nice smile as I put my arm around him.
“Wait, I have an idea,” I said. “Get on my back.” Somehow, having something to do made me feel better as I crouched down, hoisting his legs up as he jumped on me.
“Perfect!” the lady said. “Just perfect.” She gave us the phone back, because of course she really was just a nice lady and not a mugger.
“Thank you,” I told her with a smile.
“No problem,” she said. “I hope you like them.”
“Don’t worry, our standards aren’t very high,” Omar said, making her laugh as she walked away.
Even if they had been, it wouldn’t have mattered. The pictures were perfect.
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.
I rang the doorbell. Immediately, I could hear some stumbling and a “oh fuck” before Riley managed to open the door. “Alex!” they squealed, giving me a bear hug that made me almost drop the two-dollar wine bottle I’d brought.
I was ushered inside, past the kitchen where Riley’s roommate was making pancakes at eight pm for some reason, to Riley’s bedroom. Aaliyah and Billie were already there, their own half-empty bottle between them.
“Oh, goodie, you brought more wine,” Billie said as I walked over.
I leaned down to kiss Aaliyah, then gave Billie a hug. “Yup.” I set it down in front of her, and she picked it up while frowning. “What, it’s not good enough for you?” I teased.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I was just thinking that we should make Aaliyah the designated alcohol buyer. She’s the only one who gets the expensive stuff.”
We all laughed as I joined them on the carpet. “You want some?” Aaliyah asked, already getting a cup for me.
My heart thumped faster. “Um, sure,” I said.
She gave me a sideways glance. “You don’t have to, you know. You can still back out.”
“No, it’s fine,” I told her. “Tonight is about me learning to be less uptight.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
Riley clapped their hands. “Oh my god, Alex’s first drink in, what was it again? Four years?” I nodded. “I think we should hold hands for this,” they said, stretching out their arms to Billie and Aaliyah.
“Jesus, it’s not that big of a deal,” I said, but I smiled as I took my first sip before immediately pulling a face. “Ugh.”
They all started cracking up. “Just wait til you do your first tequila shot,” Riley said.
Aaliyah didn’t look too happy about that. “Yeah, or here’s a crazy idea: You could not get blackout drunk right on your first night trying alcohol again.”
“Chill, it was a joke,” Riley said.
“I’m just saying,” Aaliyah said. “We don’t even have to go to the club if you don’t want to.”
My ears burned as she looked at me. “Aaliyah…” I said softly. I hoped she’d get what I was trying to say with my eyes, because I really didn’t want to do this in front of our friends.
She tilted her head a little. “What? I’m just looking out for you.”
“Yeah, but like-“ Oh god. I looked at the others. Riley at least had the decency to pretend to be overly interested in the label on Aaliyah’s wine bottle. Billie, on the other hand, was watching us like we were her favorite soap opera. “I’m, like, an adult,” I murmured uncomfortably. “And you’re not my mom.”
“I-“ Aaliyah swallowed, then locked eyes with Billie. “Shut up.”
Billie raised her hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You know what you did,” Aaliyah said in an annoyed tone, but she still leaned her head against Billie’s shoulder and let Billie put an arm around her waist. I smiled as they fell against the bed together.
“Let’s play a drinking game,” Billie suggested. “Never Have I Ever or something.”
Aaliyah groaned. “I hate Never Have I Ever. We know each other too well for it to be fun.”
“Come on, just one round,” Billie said.
“Fine,” Aaliyah agreed. “Who wants to start?”
“Oooh, me!” Riley raised their hand. “Never have I ever gotten up to go to the bathroom during a quiet period in a seminar and farted really loudly on my way out, then instead of pretending like it didn’t happen awkwardly said sorry to the entire room and left without coming back, texting my friend to bring my bag with them because I couldn’t handle it.” Aaliyah and Billie had started looking confused halfway through their monologue, then giggled when Riley looked pointedly at me.
“Dude, I fucking hate you,” I said as I took a small sip. I thought the taste might be better now that I knew what to expect, but I still had trouble choking it down.
“That was the tiniest sip I’ve ever seen,” Riley said.
“This stuff is disgusting, okay?” I shot back. “Leave me alone.”
They laughed. “Whatever. Your turn.”
I thought for a bit. “Never have I ever…” I suddenly remembered something and grinned. “Confidently said that Columbus arrived in America in the 1800s in front of an entire class.”
Riley’s smile slipped. “That’s not fair. You still remember that?”
“I think everyone still remembers that,” I informed them apologetically.
“Hang on,” Aaliyah said from her spot leaning against Billie. “What? Can I have more information?”
“It was my first semester, and I was nervous!” Riley defended themselves in a whiny voice. “We were talking about globalization, and I got things mixed up.”
Aaliyah burst out laughing. It made me relax knowing she was having a good time. “Didn’t you do AP history?”
“Well, yeah, but… leave me alone.” Riley took a long sip from their cup to avoid our gazes. “See Alex? That’s how it’s done.”
“Did you drink like that before you went to class?” Billie teased, laughing even harder when Riley gave her a middle finger. “Is it my turn now?”
“Yeah,” Aaliyah said.
“Okay. Never have I ever, um, had sex in a place where you wouldn’t normally have sex.”
“What counts as normally?” I asked.
Billie raised an eyebrow. “A bed. Your apartment.”
“Okay, yeah, no.”
“You sure?” Billie asked.
“Yes,” I said, looking at Aaliyah for confirmation.
“He’s telling the truth,” she said. “We’re pretty boring.” We locked eyes, amusement twinkling between us. I hoped it meant we were okay.
“I’m not,” Riley said and took a gulp.
“Where?” Aaliyah asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” they said.
“Come on, you can’t just not tell us,” Billie argued. “Alex promises he won’t use it against you. Don’t you, Alex?”
I shrugged, taking another sip of wine. “If they don’t use my embarrassing moments against me.”
Billie gave me a dirty look as Riley laughed. “Okay, I’ll trade you the location for an embarrassing fact,” they suggested to her.
“Deal,” she agreed.
Riley regarded her as if deciding if she truly meant it, then said, “The bathroom in the library basement. You know, the one that’s only one stall?”
I didn’t know what I’d been expecting. “On campus?” I exclaimed. “Does that bathroom even get cleaned?”
“Of course it does!” they said incredulously.
“I’m just saying, no one ever goes there,” I said.
“Yeah, which is why it’s a perfect place for hooking up,” they pointed out.
We were all unconvinced. “With who?” Billie asked. “Didn’t it smell bad?”
“Yeah, I don’t think I could get turned on down there,” Aaliyah added.
Riley rolled their eyes. “It wasn’t that bad. And it wasn’t, like, full on. It was just oral.”
I watched Billie’s and Aaliyah’s expressions as they deliberated on this information. Without context, you’d think someone had just gifted them a private audience with Joe Rogan. “So you…” Billie paused as if debating whether to say the words out loud. “Got on your knees? On that floor?”
“I-“ Riley opened their mouth to say something but didn’t finish. “What’s your embarrassing thing?”
“Oh, right,” Billie said, still seemingly mystified by Riley’s dating habits. “Um, the first time I ever masturbated wasn’t because I was horny, it was because I couldn’t get my diva cup in and didn’t know where to buy lube.”
“I mean, that’s a very problem-oriented approach,” Aaliyah said. “It’s actually kind of smart.”
Billie grinned. “Thank you!”
“Oh, so I get shamed for my thing, but Billie gets praised?” Riley said, clearly affronted. “That’s not fair. Say another thing.”
Billie shrugged. “It’s not my fault your thing was so weird everything else seems tame in comparison.”
Riley bit their lip. “I want you guys to know… it was one time, okay? I don’t do that on a regular basis.”
“I honestly wouldn’t give that much of a shit if you did,” I said, taking another drink. I was about halfway through the cup, and I was starting to get the tiniest of floaty feelings.
“I don’t, though,” Riley said. “Guys! You have to believe me.”
Riley looked from her to me. “I do!” I promised them. “Really.” I wasn’t lying, the whole conversation was just so absurd I had trouble keeping a straight face.
Riley still seemed on edge, but let us move on. “Aaliyah, your turn.”
After a few more rounds, the floaty feeling started to become disorienting. “This is weird,” I said, looking down at my blurry cup. “I forgot how weird this feels.”
“Good weird or bad weird?” Aaliyah asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “Give me a minute.”
Half an hour later, I was feeling nothing but happy and bubbly. I could see why people liked this. Riley and Billie had decided to take shots, and Aaliyah crawled over to me as Billie sat up. Nothing seemed to matter as I put my arm around her. Was this a life hack for dealing with my feelings?
“You okay?” I asked her in a low voice, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She leaned into it. “Yeah.”
“We can go home if you don’t want to go to the club,” I said.
“No, I want to,” she said.
“You sure?”
She nodded. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”
--------------------
“Are you having fun yet?” Aaliyah teased from our corner of the club.
“A little bit,” I told her.
“But you don’t want to join them?” she questioned, motioning to Billie and Riley, who were having the time of their lives on the dance floor. Billie moved flawlessly, as if the air bent to her body’s will, and Riley definitely had a lot of enthusiasm.
I shook my head. “No. Do you?”
“Definitely not,” she agreed.
Unfortunately, they had noticed us looking at them and motioned for us to come over. When we refused, they came to us.
“Don’t you guys want to get up for at least one song?” Billie asked. “You paid ten dollars to get into this place.” Aaliyah and I shared a look. “You’re realizing I have a point, aren’t you? Come on, I’ll buy you shots.”
We reluctantly let ourselves be dragged from our comfy seats to the rickety bar stools. Billie yelled something at the bartender, then handed us shot glasses filled with a clear liquid.
“Is this tequila or vodka?” I yelled to Billie.
Maybe she couldn’t understand me. “Just drink it!” she yelled.
I poured it down my throat as smoothly as I could, but I still got stuck with a decent amount of the aftertaste. It had been vodka. I made a face as I handed the glass back.
Before I could blink, Billie had grabbed Aaliyah’s hand and kidnapped her into a dance. Even wasted, it was clear they were professionals. A few people around them stopped to watch, which I knew Aaliyah hated more than anything. She did a good job of pretending she didn’t mind, though. Maybe she truly didn’t, with all the alcohol. It seemed to have a way of getting rid of anxiety.
Riley reached out a hand questioningly and I took it, following them. The shots did help me loosen up, and before I knew it, I was actually enjoying myself. Maybe clubs just weren’t meant for being sober. On a whim, I decided to get completely wasted. If there was ever a time to try, it had to be now, right? By my third shot, the room was spinning a little. By my fifth, my arms were moving through the space around me as if they were born for it. Why didn’t I do this all the time?
“Do you want to go get some fresh air?” Riley asked at some point.
I followed them, sort of confused. The second we were out on the street, away from the music and the lights, I fully realized how far gone I was. Then, I tripped over a rock. Riley caught me.
“You’re such a gentleperson,” I noted.
Riley started cracking up. “Jesus, Alex. I can’t believe we gave you one shot and you took it as a sign to enter your frat boy era.”
I frowned. I wanted to argue, but I felt it might be wiser to announce, “I need to throw up.”
We found a tree, and Riley held my hand while I puked my guts out. Usually in situations like this, our roles were reversed. I didn’t like this new perspective one bit.
“Do you want to lie down and look at the stars?” I asked when I was done.
I thought it was a cute idea, but Riley wrinkled their nose. “It’s snowing.”
I didn’t understand the problem. “So? We’ll dry.”
Riley groaned. “Alex.”
“What?” I asked.
They sighed. “How about we go to that bench? We can look at the stars from there.”
I would have preferred lying down, but friendships were all about compromise. Our asses ended up wet from the bench, anyway. “It’s crazy how big the sky is,” I said, looking up in wonder. It must be amazing in places without light pollution.
Riley leaned their head on my shoulder. “Are you having an existential crisis?”
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly.
“That’s okay.”
There was silence, then I admitted, “I think I might be developing a drinking problem.”
“Alex, you got drunk once,” Riley reminded me. “You’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, but it kind of scares me how much easier it made everything,” I tried to explain. “Like if I have a drink, I can just enjoy the party like a normal person.”
“I think I get it,” Riley said. “Maybe next time you feel that way, tell one of us? Then we can help you.”
I smiled at the suggestion. “Thanks.”
“Did anything happen in particular?” they inquired.
I shrugged. “I mean, I had a panic attack a few days ago.”
“What happened?”
I opened and closed my fists a few times. “I don’t know. I realized Jamie’s the same age as I was when we moved out, and it really tripped me up.”
“Because you’re realizing how young you were?” Riley offered.
“Yeah, I guess. And how young I am now. But I don’t feel young. I barely got to parties or do normal college kid stuff.”
“Parties are overrated.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I know,” they said softly. We stared at the stars a little while longer. “Maybe you can do more things now that Jamie’s older,” Riley suggested. “He’s not a little kid anymore. He’s probably throwing his own party right now.”
I chuckled. “I doubt it. And maybe, but it won’t be the same. It’ll never be. I feel like I lost a part of myself.”
Riley watched me wipe away a tear, then hugged me. “I’m sorry.”
We didn’t same much else. Eventually the others came looking for us.
“Are you guys okay?” Billie asked.
“Alex threw up, but he’s fine now,” Riley explained.
“I still think I want to go home, though,” I said. “I can get an Uber if you guys want to head somewhere else.”
They looked at each other, then Aaliyah said, “Nah, I’m tired, too. Let’s go.”
We said our goodbyes to Billie and Riley, who went back in the club, and were left alone on the bench.
I turned to her. “I’m gonna ask you something, and you’re gonna think it’s a drunk question, but it’s not.”
She laughed. “Okay?”
“Do you want to move in together?” It came out pretty smoothly, probably because I’d practiced it in my head so many times.
I watched her consider it. “Like, with you and Jamie?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed.
“What does he think about it?” she asked.
Shit. “I haven’t actually asked him yet,” I admitted. “But he loves you.”
She frowned. “How much have you actually thought this through?”
“A lot!” I defended myself indignantly. “I just forgot I hadn’t asked him yet.”
She gave me an amused look, which bothered me, because I was trying to be serious. “Are you sure this isn’t a drunk question?”
“The timing might be, but I swear the question isn’t,” I promised.
She thought for a while. “I’m not shutting you down, but I want to talk about this when you’re sober. And talk to Jamie.”
That seemed reasonable. “Okay. Sorry, I know you didn’t want me to get wasted.”
She shrugged. “It’s okay, you’re kind of cute like this. And you’re the one who has to deal with the hangover tomorrow.”
I groaned. “Are they as bad as everyone says?”
“Worse,” she promised, leaning in to peck my lips. They were just as cold as mine. “I love you.”
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.
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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.
