Noah

It was kind of a shock to see Taylor Kamper again. It’s not like it has been that long, but maybe due to the distance and the many, many new experiences, I suddenly saw him as he is, which sounds like a redundant thing to say. But before I left, I swear, he was a small, scrawny kid who was easy to tease and got flustered as easily. Like an annoyed cat that would scratch you and demand pets at the same time.

Now, he is an 18-year-old high school graduate, who is ready to conquer the world with bright eyes, a head full of wild brown curls, and fucking cute freckles.

I wince. Don’t even think that word in connection with Taylor. Never ever. Even though it was adorable how flustered he was when he fled into the building with the monstrosity he called a hat.

It reminds me of how he used to waddle behind me as a kid, begging me to play with him. Back then, our mothers were bound to become friends, because they worked at the same faculty and lived in the same neighbourhood with sons of similar age attending the same elementary school. Subsequently, Tay and I had been forced to become friends as well. While Tay was enthusiastic about his new older playmate, I could rarely give in to his demands, buried in homework from school, Chinese language school, and piano lessons. I did make time for him on occasion, when my heart couldn’t withstand his pouting, though it never seemed to be enough.

As I enter the house, my mother’s call disrupts my trip down memory lane. “Noah, is that you?”

I call back a greeting. She rounds the corner of our living room and grins, “Was Tay surprised to see you?”

“You need to stop trying to make us friends,” I say more in jest than anything else. I would never admit that it kinda hurt when Tay began rejecting me as a friend sometime around middle school.

Mom pouts and swipes back her long black hair. “You were so cute as kids, I swear. I thought you would become inseparable like brothers.”
I suppress a wince. After seeing him today, I want to be anything but brotherly with him.

I bow down to take off my shoes. “Maybe if he were born with another personality,” I mutter, not so low my mom can’t hear me. She gives me a chastising clap on my back. “I hope you can try to get to know each other better with these tutoring sessions. You are the older one between the two of you. Try to be more forthcoming and mature.”

I rip a bit too hard on one of my shoe laces. I inhale, smile up to her–a smile practiced a hundred times over–and answer, “I know, don’t worry.”

I pull off my shoes and go up to my room, where I let out a breath the moment the door closes. I’m torn between anticipation and dread about this tutoring thing. I have no problem teaching German, but teaching it to Taylor Kamper… If I didn’t know it before seeing him today, I know it now. I might be in serious trouble, in more than one way. 

❖ 

I’ve just finished digging out my old German grammar books when my phone lights up. A smile spreads on my face when I see the message on my screen. 

Chris: CC’s at 4?

I send a thumbs up, and an hour later, I’m on my way to the old district near our neighbourhood with quaint little shops, art exhibitions, and a vibe shaped by the students from the university across the Chesterham River.

The busiest shopping street has barely changed during my stay abroad. Sure, a few trendy pop-up stores have come and gone, but that’s nothing new. The most adored meet-up spot among local students, the Coffee Cove, is still up and running, and that’s all I need. I spot Chris waving at me from a corner table the moment I enter the Café, the air filled with a rich coffee aroma that warms the soul.

As I approach, he gets up to pull me in for a close and long hug before I can even take off my thick winter jacket. I laugh and return the hug. 

“God,” Chris says next to my ear, “You don’t know how much I freaking missed you.”

I pat his back, “I can make an educated guess.”

Chris pulls back, and I can see him checking me out with a broadening grin while he returns to his seat.

“Adulthood suits you.”

I roll my eyes at my best friend and sit down across from him. I return his smile, knowingly. Chris wastes no second and leans in. 

“And?”

I shrug off my jacket and barely keep my expression neutral. “It was okay.”

Chris groans, “Come on, Noah, you must have more to tell me. At least one of us got to escape their shitty straight life for a bit, right? You can’t tell me that nothing happened.”

“Well,” I drawl out, “Hardly anything could happen in Antigua. But I did have a few weeks in New York, where all of the volunteers stayed for the orientation. And there was this gay bar near our stay.”

I stop talking the second I see a young waitress approach the table. Chris falls back immediately and casually looks out the window. 

“What can I get you?” the girl asks, and I don’t miss the way she checks me out. It makes me uncomfortable.

“Hazelnut Latte and a chocolate waffle, please,” Chris says to draw her attention. 

“Same.”

The girl notes it down and gives me another look before leaving to process the order. Chris chokes. 

“Still the heart-throb, I see.”

I groan and shake my head. “I did not miss this attention.”

“Well, returning to the topic,” Chris says and leans back in, “Did you get … other attention at that bar you mentioned?”

I huff out a laugh. “If you think you are being subtle, you are not.”

Chris tsks, “I always have to be subtle, I don’t want to be subtle with you.”

I stare at Chris, taking my time to get a really good look at him. And what I see worries me. There are a few normal changes, like him growing a bit and a new haircut, but there is exhaustion in his eyes, in his sharp jawbones, in his pale skin. 

Chris raises an eyebrow at me, “Well?”

I blink back to the conversation and grin, “I definitely got attention. Several nights.”

Chris laughs, “Omg, tell me everything.”

“When I entered the bar for the first time, everyone kinda immediately locked in on me as the newbie. It was both a very humiliating and enlightening experience.” I can’t help but laugh self-deprecatingly at the memory. “Then a table of students took pity on me and invited me to sit with them, and I guess it just all rolled from there. Was a crazy few weeks.”

“Was it as good as we imagined?” 

“Better.”

Chris gets a dreamy look and probs his arms on the table. “I can’t wait to be done with school.”

Our orders arrive, this time thankfully brought over by the owner, an old, motherly lady.

“Enjoy, boys.”

“God, I missed these waffles,” I say as I dig in. I take a minute to enjoy the food before I give Chris another once over. “How is it going at home?”

Chris pulls a face. “Come on, let’s not ruin the mood.”

I put down my fork. “Chris.”

He winces. If at the name or at my tone, I’m not sure.

“Nothing’s changed at home, it’s just,” he sighs and takes a few seconds to sort his words. “I changed. When you left, I saw you getting to explore more of yourself while I was stuck here, and I-”

He looks up, and my shock must have shown on my face, because he quickly shakes his head. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved all your photos and texts and life updates, I’m really happy for you, to get to experience that, but with every picture and every text, I started to have this … longing. Like I can’t wait to get out of here. And the closer I get to freedom, the slower time seems to pass and the more difficult it is to hold myself back.”

“Chris …”

Chris rubs his hand over his face and looks straight at me. “I mean, who am I telling this? I’m sure you struggle too, now that you’re back home, right?”

I nod. “Sure, but I know it’s only until I start the college summer courses. It’s like a temporary exception. Chris, I didn’t realize it was getting this bad. I’m sorry, I wasn’t there for you.”

Chris frowns, “No. Don’t apologize for living your life. I probably get it more than anyone.”

He takes a sip of his latte and stares out of the window. “It’s only a few more months.”
I hesitate before I speak my thoughts, unsure how to approach it. “I understand that you want to get out of here and all that, but did you consider the…logistics of it?”

He frowns, and his gaze wanders back to me. “What do you mean?”

I scrape the chocolate sauce remains off my plate. “If you really plan to cut off your parents, what’s your game plan? Do you have all your documents, like your birth certificate? How will you afford a place? If you want to go to college, how will you pay for it? Things like that.”
I can see Chris’ face darken with every question, so I feel compelled to add, “I’m not saying you have to do it all now. And it’s not like you won’t have support. I will be there for you, every step of whatever way you choose to go. And there are quite a few options to get financial and legal support for cases like yours-

“I’m not a case,” Chris says sharply. It’s little instances like these that I notice this gap between us. Sure, he is a year younger than me, but it’s not only that. My circumstances forced me to mature early. To take care of a lot of things and see the bigger picture. Chris is obviously still somewhere in the process, so I let the topic slide for now. Enforcing it won’t do any good. 

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you, but there’s still time to figure it all out.”

Chris nods, but I can see he is miffed. Aaaalright. A topic change is in order. “So, did you meet anyone while I was away?”

Chris scoffs, but there is something there, in the way he evades my eyes that makes me suspicious. I narrow my eyes.

“There is?”

“No.” Chris drawls out the word so it sounds more like a question. 

“Yeah, I don’t believe you.” I draw my latte closer and take a sip. “Tell me everything.”