Open Hearts

Previously on Open Hearts…

“I can’t wait to see what else Bjorn has in store for me; but so far, this has already been the best birthday ever.”

Some drama has been encircling the boys lately; from mentally straining teasing to physical altercations. All these distractions haven’t prevented Keaton from enjoying his birthday, or the boys from enjoying each other’s company. Despite their resilience, storms are forming on the horizon for both of them.

Our story resumes on the night of Keaton’s birthday. The boys returned home and changed in preparation for their date tonight.

Open Hearts: Part 19… 

The warm day was fading as the sun receded over the horizon. The coolness of night was approaching as the coastal winds brushed against the streets and sidewalks. A few cars passed by periodically, but the neighborhood never lost its calm and serene appeal. I chose to wear a hoodie for tonight. The weather didn’t demand it, but it was just cool enough to make it possible. Besides, it looks cute. 

Along with my hot pink hoodie, I chose a pair of black skinny jeans and black sneakers with pink trim to match my sweatshirt. I was satisfied with the outfit I put together and walked out the front door after a brief lecture from my mother about the rules, curfew, and second chances. I really didn’t want her to drive us to and from our date, so I had to beg for her forgiveness. If we don’t fall asleep in a bush again, we’ll be fine. 

As expected, he was already waiting outside for me. He eyed me from head to toe with a goofy grin. 

“I don’t have the wardrobe to keep up with you.” He giggled. 

I let out a chuckle as well and walked down the path until we were face to face. Bjorn went with his typical outfit, a loose-fitting, white v-neck, and black skinny jeans. It was a good look for him, so I had no complaints. 

We slowly strolled, side by side, down the suburban sidewalk. With our hands in our pockets, we nervously avoided any conversation and just walked in silence. Bjorn looked as if he was building himself up to say something, so I waited patiently. Sadly, those words never came. But to break the silence, he attempted some small talk. 

“Are you excited for tonight?” “How was your birthday so far?” “Do your knuckles hurt after hitting that kid?” 

I answered each question swiftly and with a false sense of enthusiasm. I wasn’t interested in small talk right now. 

“You seem like you’re holding something back from me.” I blurted out somewhat abrasively. 

At first, Bjorn looked ready to deny my accusations and keep his secret locked up. But without any further pressure needed, his expression softened, and he started fessing up. 

“I have a confession.” He mumbled almost unintelligibly. 

“I actually don’t have much of a plan for tonight.” He said with a nervous chuckle at the end. 

His expression became more somber, and I could see he was genuinely bothered by this. 

“Well… neither did I, so why don’t we just walk until we find something to do?” I responded matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah… well… I guess that’ll- “ 

“I loved all of my gifts so far, and I’ll love whatever we end up doing tonight. It’s already special because I’m with you.” 

Bjorn started to laugh as soon as I finished my interjection. 

“What’s so funny?!” 

“Nothing, nothing. You just sound so cheesy sometimes.” He giggled. 

He attempted to put his arm around my shoulders, but I jokingly shrugged him off. 

“If anyone is cheesy, it’s you.” 

That sentence started an entire debate of references to our sappiest moments. Needless to say, I still believe Bjorn is the cheesiest, but he does have a good argument against me. I slightly cringed when I heard him repeat some of the things I’ve said. Still, he never seemed to be mocking me. I know he enjoys the sappy moments just as much as I do. 

Our little adventure continued for some time. We passed a few restaurants, a bowling alley, an entrance to the beach, and none of them seemed to catch our attention. We came down to two possible solutions, either we watch a movie and then grab dinner, or we go to the boardwalk and play some games. It was a difficult choice, but we decided on the boardwalk. Beating Bjorn in carnival games just seemed like too much fun to pass up on.

Flashing lights, the whimsical sounds of various games and machines were audible before we even entered the mini park. Following that, the shrieks of terror coming from the slingshot ride peaked our interest.

“Dare you to go on that with me.” Bjorn challenged as he pointed to the source of the screams. The slingshot ride became a staple of boardwalks everywhere. We had one back home in Daytona, but I never built up the courage to get in one. However, not one to be shown up, I quickly accepted his challenge. 

“You bet I will, but not right now, let’s do that last.”

Bjorn agreed to my terms and motioned for me to follow him into the park. We walked past various vendors of carnival food such as cotton candy and funnel cakes. Kids of all ages ran around from booth to booth and cried with joy whenever a prize was won. Equally, you could hear the audible groan of people who were not so lucky or skilled. 

We came to a stop at the entrance to the arcade. Bjorn pulled a few crumpled bills out of his pocket and slid them into the coin machine. After a few churns from the gears within, the machine spat out a nice handful of gold tokens. Bjorn counted them in his hand and then held them out to me. Then he repeated the process until we both had a handful of coins. 

“So, what do think? Ski Ball, or the Haunted House game?” He asked excitedly. 

“Ski Ball, definitely Ski Ball,” I responded swiftly.

It was a wise decision too because unlike most of the competitions, I actually won this time! Even after two rematches, I remained the king of Ski Ball. Bjorn, realizing the error of his ways, stood in defeat as he watched me grasp all the tickets that flew out of the machine. I could see he was trying to be a good sport and not garner excuses, so I rewarded his silence with a quick peck on the cheek. 

Next, we jumped over to the shooter games. The ones where you grab a fake looking gun attached to a cable and shoot the enemies on screen. My pool of luck had all but run out by now, because Bjorn was genuinely kicking my ass at these games. 

It was time for a break, and I knew just how to spend it. Nothing replenishes energy levels like a big ol’ serving of sugar. I quickly decided on getting a funnel cake, but they were so huge that Bjorn and I just ended up sharing. We sat across from each other at a red picnic table that laid in the shadow of the Ferris wheel. Many people migrated from the games to the pier so that they could watch the sunset. We couldn’t see the horizon from where we were sitting, but we could still enjoy the orange and pinkish hue that painted the California sky. Occasionally, we’d look up at each other, faces and fingers dusted with powdered sugar, mouths full of fried dough, and just smile at each other. I can’t rightly explain how these moments make me feel. I felt nervous as if it was our first date all over again. My heart was beating slightly faster than usual, my hands were almost shaking, and I don’t think I have the strength to stand up. Just watching him smile back at me, with the sunset illuminating his already shining features, I felt weak. 

This felt like another sappy “I love you” moment; but whether it’s cheesy or not, doesn’t matter to me. That love was real, and even if I felt stupid for expressing it, I couldn’t bury that feeling. 

“What’s up lovebirds!” A loud juvenile voice called out to us and broke the silence. 

The sudden interruption annoyed me, but I was relieved to find it was Simon and not some annoying kid looking for a fight. 

Bjorn and I never got the opportunity to accompany Simon and Grayson on that double date. Maybe he wants to make new plans with us.

“Hey man what’s up?” Bjorn said in a muffled voice as he tried to swallow the last of the funnel cake. 

“Nothing much. Just hanging out with some of my friends.” He pointed his thumb back to a group of teenagers, all slightly older than Bjorn and me.

“We’re about to head back to my place for a little party, did you decide if you wanted to join us yet?” Simon asked Bjorn directly.

I wasn’t sure what Simon meant. I wasn’t aware that Bjorn had been invited to a party. 

Bjorn just looked over at me nervously and then back at Simon.

 “Sorry man. Can’t make it this time. It’s Keaton’s birthday today and- “

 “Would it be okay if I came too?” I interjected.

 Bjorn looked over at me with an expression of shock. Simon, on the other hand, seemed more pleasantly surprised.

 “Of course dude. I invited both of you anyways. If you guys can’t come because of your birthday, it’s cool, but if you want to celebrate with us, you know where I live.”

Simon soon rejoined his friends and left Bjorn and me to decide. 

“Why’d you ask him if you could come? Now, he thinks we’ll show up.” 

“Well, why don’t we?”

 Bjorn’s eyes scanned me over with increasing suspicion. His brow furrowed a bit too. 

“I-I guess we could. I just thought we would spend tonight, you know, together.” 

“But we will be togeth-“ 

“You know what I mean. Just the two of us.”

My original plan was to spend tonight with just Bjorn, but I’ve never been to a real party before. It's obvious that Bjorn would have gone if it wasn’t my birthday; I don’t want to hold him back from hanging out with his friends.

“It’s always just the two of us, let’s go hangout with Simon, just for a little bit. After that, we can go back to my house and crawl into bed.” I said whilst my finger crept along his forearm. 

The corners of his mouth crept into a devious smirk as he said “Fine, but I do have to warn you, this is a high school party, there might be alcohol. 

His smile didn’t fade after the mention of drinking, which led me to believe that he’s been to one of these parties before, and possibly participated as well. I didn’t want to sound so stiff, but I was nervous about the idea. I’ve never drunk before; not counting the sips I’ve taken of one of my dad’s beers before. Afraid to tell Bjorn, I just smiled and pretended to be fine with the situation. Besides, Bjorn wouldn’t let anything happen to me, and I doubt either of us will drink tonight. 

A few minutes passed before I was following Bjorn out of the park and walking towards Simon’s. He only lived a few streets down from me, so the 20-minute walk from the boardwalk wasn’t too bad. 

Simon answered the door after only one knock; he seemed surprised to see us. Stepping aside, he motioned for us to come in and take a seat in his living room. There was music playing, but it wasn’t blasting loudly. The large leather sectional only took up a fraction of the room. Dark mahogany floors and furniture left the room with a rustic and warm touch. All you needed was a roaring fire, and you could imagine yourself in an isolated cottage in the forest. A few people, maybe seven total, were hanging around the room and adjoining kitchen. Perched on the kitchen counter were bottles of various liquors. They decorated the countertop with their unique sizes and colors, much like an art exhibit. A moment after plopping down on the couch, I heard another knock on the front door. Simon answered, and greeted three more people. This would repeat until maybe twenty people populated his house, his boyfriend included. 

I nervously clutched Bjorn’s knee as the room filled with various teens, all strangers to myself. We were the youngest two there, but no one seemed to mind us much. They continued to chat and fill up their cups as the party went on. People swayed to rhythmic beats that filled the air, calmly enjoying the music, drinks, and each other’s company. This wasn’t what I expected from a high school party. No police were showing up at the front door, no substances getting snorted from coffee tables, not even a drunk, overweight frat boy running around in a bedsheet. No, this was different. This was… in a word, “chill.” 

“You guys thirsty?” Simon asked as he made his way over to us. 

It was a question that I’ve been asked countless times in my life, but never before was the answer so difficult. I looked to Bjorn for answers but found none; only more questions. 

“I’ll have some punch.” His answer came with confidence. He then looked back at me, awaiting my response. I felt my tongue twist into a pretzel. I nearly choked on my saliva as I struggled to muster any coherent response. 

“Two punches: coming right up” Simon mumbled through slurred speech. 

Secretly, I was glad I didn’t have to answer. But, I knew that my silence was an answer in itself.

 As promised, Simon returned with two red solo cups filled with punch. No explanation needed, I knew that these drinks were more than just fruit punch. The distinct sour and tinny smell of alcohol wafted from our drinks, followed by the sweet aroma of fruit. 

We grabbed our cups and thanked Simon for his hospitality. Bjorn took a sip without hesitation, leaving me a bit stunned. His lips were stained red by the residue of the spiked drink. With a small gulp, he swallowed a mouthful of punch and then looked over at my drink. Mine was still at full capacity, and I had not attempted to try the foreign liquid. 

“It’s okay Keaton; you don’t have to drink it.” Bjorn offered in a weak attempt to comfort my worries. Only, it wasn’t the idea of drinking that scared me the most. It was him. I like Bjorn in his usual state of mind, the concept of that state being altered bothers me to my core. Maybe it’s just the suddenness that scares me the most. 

I stared into the deep crimson liquid and swirled it around slightly before bringing it to my lips. The typical taste of fruit punch was immediately followed by the sourness of the alcohol. My nose turned up and my face twisted into a grimace that I imagine was less than attractive. Aside from the shock to my taste buds, the drink wasn’t that bad. I went back for another sip, which caused Bjorn to giggle. 

The beat continued to drown out the various chatters and small talk around us. I found myself looking over at Bjorn, smiling, then taking another sip. The process repeated until the beat began to slow down and my cup had filled with more air than drink. This isn’t so bad. The juice is sweet and tolerable, the music created a relaxed vibe that replaced the silence between us, and I felt no pressure to continue drinking. Each sip I took, I took it because I wanted to. 

I had been staring into space for some time now, memorizing every detail of a single brick housed in the fireplace. When I came back to earth, I noticed my head was at an odd angle. It was tilted, perched on the shoulder of Bjorn, who offered no resistance to me being there. It was a strange feeling, losing track of time like that. I don’t know how I ended up snuggled against him, but I didn’t really care either. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a few of the teens were playing a game on the floor. Spin-the-bottle, a classic party game. Now, this reminds me of the parties in movies. It looked like fun, but I didn’t want to join. I didn’t want to kiss any of these people. In my game, the bottle always points right where I want it to. 

“Did you like it?” Bjorn asked meekly. He looked down into my nearly empty cup and chuckled. I glanced down and shared the same laugh. 

The bottle always lands on Bjorn. 

I inched my way forward and kissed his cheek, leaving the sticky red residue of my drink stained on his skin. 

“It was good. Can you get me another?” 

Nothing had gone wrong yet. I feel fine, more than fine, actually. I’m happy, so why not have another? Why put an end to a good time? 

Bjorn must have agreed with my train of thought because he obliged by getting up and going to the kitchen. Before he could return, Simon took a seat on the other side of me. He was sporting a much larger cup and a much more transparent liquid, so I assume he is going at it just a bit harder than Bjorn and me. 

“You’re having a good time right Keaton?” 

His breath swallowed all the fresh air between us and left the stench of alcohol in its place. His eyelids were barely allowing themselves to creak open each time he blinked, and the discoloration on his face made his cheeks look as red as my fruit punch. Each word was slurred and flowed into the next one as if it was one unintelligible phrase. 

“Yeah, this is a nice place. It’s… cool.” I felt embarrassed that I couldn’t offer anything else besides “cool” to describe his party. However, Simon was so sloshed that I doubt he even heard a word I said. His lips curled into a weak and goofy smile, then he slowly rose to his feet and stumbled away. His only response was a quiet “Cool” that he muttered before leaving earshot. I watched as he made his way to his boyfriend. Within seconds they were making out in the hallway leaving the living room. I would have remained entranced by their little show, but Bjorn blocked my view as he returned with our freshly filled cups. 

“Here’s to round number two. Hopefully, I don’t have to carry you home tonight.” Bjorn giggled. 

I didn’t feel funny yet, so I wasn’t worried about his comment. Right now, I just feel good. Except, I did feel a little antsy, and a familiar pressure was building in my bladder. I handed my cup over to Bjorn and left the couch. I had seen someone exiting the bathroom earlier, so I didn’t need to ask where it was. 

I noticed someone else was in the hallway as I approached the door. A boy; A sophomore perhaps. He perched against the wall with his arms crossed and his eyes closed.

“Are you waiting on the bathroom too?”

The slightly older teen slowly opened his eyes, his gaze fell on me. He was handsome, maybe 16 years old, and sporting a tight V-neck shirt that hugged his muscled body. His chiseled chin dropped to meet my stare. A small smile started to form as if he heard a joke. 

“Yeah. I guess we’re both waiting now.” His considerably lower voice whispered.

His eyes closed once more, and we began waiting together. To avoid leaning against a bedroom door, I positioned myself opposite of him. Now both of us were leaning against the wall and patiently waiting. 

“You’re Bjorn’s boyfriend, right?” The mystery teen asked suddenly. I was a bit shocked at first since I had never met this boy, and I’m sure he’s in high school too. Then again, we did just walk in together, sit together, and I kissed his cheek. So yeah, I guess it’s common knowledge. 

 “Yep. That’s me.” I shifted awkwardly from heel to toe and looked away from the boy’s gaze. 

“That’s what I thought. Well, good for you two. You guys make a cute couple.” 

My cheeks started to cherry up slightly, and I exchanged a quick glance and a smile with him. 

“Thanks, I think so too,” I responded nervously. 

The door to the bathroom swung open, and another teen walked out, tugging a girl along by the hand, that I assume was his girlfriend. Her lack of eye contact and disheveled clothing gave some clear hints as to what they were doing in there. I patiently waited for the mystery boy to walk in since he had been waiting the longest. However, he just stood there, waiting patiently himself. Then, he motioned for me to enter instead. My sense of morals resisted the urge to just cut in line like that. But before I could offer protest, my bladder seemed to sucker punch my insides and pull me away from resisting his kindness. 

I scurried into the bathroom, pushing the door behind me until it touched the doorframe and blocked any peeping eyes, but not far enough for it to click close. I was just trying to relieve myself quickly, but I probably should have shut the door behind me. 

I struggled with the button of my pants due to my pee-induced rush, but soon had my fly open and started to relieve myself. Halfway through, a chill went down my spine when I heard the formerly closed-door creak open. 

“O-occupied!” My voice creaked in a mixture of fear and frustration. 

The mystery teen, ignoring my remark, pushed his way in and shut the door behind him. Like the feeling of ice cubes on warm flesh, I felt my body tense and shiver. 

I remember this situation all too well. It can’t be happening again, not like this. I just want to use the bathroom, why is he- 

“Can you scoot over?” He asked suddenly.

My stream came to a halt as his words ground against my nerves. I was expecting the worse; now I’m just taken back by his request. 

“Ex-Excuse me?”

“I made a mistake by letting you go first. I really need to pee.” Without further warning, he hurried his way to my side, gently nudged my shoulder, and pulled down the front to his joggers.

“Oh…uh…okay,” I said nervously as I attempted to share the bowl.

I guess I had made the wrong assumption about him. But still, it was little rude for him to barge like that. When my body was finally able to relax, my stream continued. I gave an audible sigh of relief after that. So, there we stood, two strangers, sharing a toilet bowl. Maybe it was the alcohol, but I surprised myself with how I avoided any feeling of self-consciousness. But I had to look down; if I didn’t, I could end up aiming straight for the floor; Or worse, hitting my new acquaintance and bathroom buddy. 

When I gave in and looked down towards the bowl, I accidentally let out an audible “woah” instead of just holding it in. Again, I blame the liquor.

The teen chuckled at my comment as my face once again ripened to a nice cherry red. He was endowed with a bit more than the average male. I’ve watched enough videos to know a pornstar when I see one. In a literal side by side comparison, I was still a child, and he was a man. 

My embarrassment reached new levels when I realized I had already finished, and I was now just staring at his member for an uncomfortable amount of time. 

“Sorry… sorry” I muttered as I zipped up and rushed to the sink. 

“No problem little dude. If you want to see it again, you’ll be able to find me.” He said with a laugh as I closed the door behind me. 

Deep breath. Deep breath. Okay Keaton, compose yourself. I half expected Bjorn to be waiting out for me. If he had seen that guy walk into the bathroom, knowing I was there, he would have kicked the door down to get to me. Luckily, when I turned the corner into the living room, I could see him sitting in the same position and sipping his drink as he waited for me. 

I felt a bit guilty as I returned to him. I can’t lie to myself. I was a bit turned on when the mystery boy flashed me like that. And his comment about seeing it again, made me smile a bit. But it’s harmless to get a little hot and bothered, right? I mean, I didn’t agree to anything, I didn’t touch him, and I won’t see him again. There’s nothing wrong with just looking at it for a moment, I think.

“Took you long enough.” A very tipsy Bjorn announced. 

“Now heurry up an drink sumthin. You gotta ketch up.” He slurred. 

I took my drink from his hand and sipped it gingerly. I debated telling him about the mystery boy but decided that tonight was not the night. A familiar buzz vibrated my pocket, followed by an electronic and whimsical ding. My mom was texting me, telling me to come home soon before it gets any later. We only got to stay for a short while, but if I asked for more time, I fear we wouldn’t be in condition to even get home later. It’s best to leave now. 

“Come on. We got to go. Mom’s texting me.” I told Bjorn. 

At first, he seemed disappointed, but he didn’t protest. We just said our goodbyes to Simon, and I practically dragged him out the door. I’m not eager to annoy my mother by missing another curfew.

The night air brought a familiar coolness that woke you up instantly. I felt refreshed, but Bjorn seemed less than enthused to make the trek.

“Come on slow poke.”

“I’m coming, jus slew dow. Jeg matte mye a drikke…” He muttered.

I grabbed his hand and pulled him along at a steady pace. We were about halfway home when I felt his hand brush against the seat of my pants.

“You did that on purpose.” I giggled.

No response came, just his hand again, and again. I had to grab his hand and hold it again to make him stop.

“We’re almost home Bjorn, can’t you wait like 10 minutes. Hold det I buksene dine.”

He sighed deeply. “Come on, don’t be such a tease.”

“I’m not. I’m telling you to hold off for ten minutes and then we can go upstairs and-“

“I don’t see why I can’t touch it.” He argued.

“Because it’s annoying having someone grabbing your butt all the time.”

“Oh yeah right, don’t act like you don’t like it.”

It was hard to fathom what I was hearing. I was used to Bjorn being sweeter and subtle with his words, at least around me.

“I don’t. I don’t like it all the time.”

“Whatever.” He scoffed.

“What is your problem? You’re being a dick.”

Suddenly, we were fighting.

“I knew you would be different if you were drinking-

“Oh don’t even fucking start with that! I knew you’d find some reason to belittle me. It was just a few drinks. Don’t start nagging me like we’re some old married couple just because we’re a thing. I can drink if I want to.”

A strong gust of wind blew down the quiet street. The cold air split between us like a wedge, separating our hands with ease. It wasn’t that difficult when both people let go at the same time.

I tucked my hands into my pockets and looked towards the ground for security because I wasn’t getting it from the stranger next to me.

“I’m going home now. See you later.”

I hesitated for a moment, allowing Bjorn the chance to respond. But only the coastal winds whispered back.

I crossed the street and made my way to the opposite sidewalk. Alone, I finished the journey back to my house.

So much for a perfect day.

 

-

 

My phone woke me up as usual, but it wasn’t the alarm I had set. It was the 13 missed calls and 20 unread texts that woke me up.

I wasn’t ready to read any of them, let alone respond. I already had to deal with my mom complaining about us walking around last night instead of getting Sigve to drive us. I already dealt with my cousins seeking attention and entertainment all night long while I just wanted to sleep. And, I already dealt with lying to my mom about where we were last night, what we did, and about a movie that I never even saw.

I just woke up, and I already felt exhausted. No breakfast, no shower, and no phone. I just need my coffee and my bed. Alas, no rest for the wicked.

Soon there was a knock at the door. I knew who it was; I didn’t have to look.

“Keaton! Bjorn is here!" My mom called me from downstairs.

Maybe if I just ignore them, it’ll all go away.

Not so lucky.

Another knock, this time at my door. Silence was all I offered, but that didn’t stop him from coming in.

I pulled the blanket over my face and rolled onto my side. Bjorn didn’t say anything at first, although I could feel him there. The whir of the ceiling fan became deafening in the silent room. Finally, he spoke up.

“I’m sorry I touched your butt.”

His apology was weak; I didn’t even bother rolling over.

“Get out,” I responded coldly.

“I’m sorry I had a few drink-“

“Get. Out.”

“I’m sorry I yelled-“

“Will you just get the fuck out already!?”

Finally, there was silence again, but that only lasted a moment.

“Okay, but I’m still sorry that I-“

“Bjorn, I just want to lay in bed and ignore you. I promise we can talk later, just go home and leave me alone. I’m not ready to not be mad at you.”

A small amount of noise ensued as he shuffled through something in my room. I heard a zipper coming undone, and some paper ruffling. Silence once more, followed by something soft being placed on my shoulder. It felt sort of like a pillow. After I heard the door click shut, I pulled the blanket down and grabbed the mystery object. It was the bear Bjorn had bought me. He pulled it from my backpack and put it in my bed. A sweet gesture, but not enough for me to get over what he did. I just needed some space. I can live with him being a dick occasionally, but he’s got to deal with the consequences. I’m sure we’ll be talking again tonight, but not now.

My mom told me this morning that she wants to take me to lunch in town. My dad is going to take my cousins to a movie, and we can spend some time together for a change, in her own words. She insisted that Bjorn not come along. Little did she know, I had no intention of inviting him.

And then, right on queue, another knock on my bedroom door.

“Keaton, are you getting ready yet?”

“Yeah. Sure. 10 minutes.” I grumbled through the fabric of my heavy blanket. I was afraid that she hadn’t heard me and would force me to repeat myself. I couldn’t find the energy to even move, so I breathed a sigh of relief when I listened to her footsteps get fainter.

Quick shower, another sip of coffee, put your game face on Keaton. I can live a day without Bjorn, I’m sure of it.

“What are you feeling for lunch, honey?” Her words were sweet, but her overwhelming cheeriness felt like nails on a chalkboard.

“Whatever you pick is fine.”

“Okay, well Mexican food sounds good to me.”

The car ride felt awkward. Occasionally, my mom would change the station, find a song she liked, and sing and hum her way through the chorus. The symphony of Katy Perry and Alicia Keys was deflating, to say the least. I might be gay, but not that gay. But in a desperate attempt to change my grim and cheerless mood, my mother grabbed my arm by the wrist and tried to pull me into a rhythm as she danced in her car seat. I hate to admit that it got me to smile, but I offered no movement of my own. I just let her swing my flailing arm around like a wet noodle and pretended not to be entertained by her antics.

She took note of my smile and knew I wasn’t helpless after all.

We made it to a small Mexican food hole-in-the-wall kind of place, tucked away in a much larger plaza of shops and eateries. There were only ten tables in the little shop. A 'seat yourself' sign was perched at the entrance. For a moment, we questioned if anyone was even here. Besides the open door, there was no indication that the place was open. However, as soon as we took our seats, a short Spanish woman appeared from nowhere and placed two menus on our table. She did not attempt to take our orders or verbally greet us. She simply offered an ear-to-ear grin that deepened each wrinkle on her weathered face. She must have been in her 80’s by now. And just as quickly as she appeared, she slipped away again and disappeared behind the counter.

We looked over the menus for a short while. I wanted to try the homemade salsa, queso dip, and tortilla chips more than anything else.  But my mom insisted I order an actual meal too. So, I chose their “supreme burrito” a large burrito that sits in a bed of homemade queso and enchilada sauce, topped with fresh sour cream, guacamole, more queso and red sauce. It sounds like it could clog your arteries after each bite, so naturally, I was drawn to it.

We waited a few minutes, somewhat impatiently, until another person appeared from the kitchen. He looked to be younger, maybe 17 or 18, Spanish, and quite handsome. His dark, neatly trimmed hair, was combed back carefully to meet in the back. His skin was free of any blemishes or marks, and the caramel tone of it was highlighted by his impressive dimples. His smile must have been the result of braces and years of good dental hygiene. It shined through the dimly lit shop like a beam of natural light creeping through the slit of open blinds. He greeted us in a largely Americanized accent, with subtle hints of his heritage and native tongue peeking through. I was crushing on the waiter, in front of my mom, I’m completely hopeless.

“Buenos dias. My name is Miguel and I’ll be your server today. Can I start you two off with some drinks?”

My mother, who previously had been getting a bit testy because of the wait, had softened up as soon as Miguel spoke. “Sure, I’ll just have a sweet tea. Keaton?”

Then I noticed that both pair of eyes were on me. I looked down at the menu and blushed.

“Ye-yeah. Water is fine.” My ears grew hotter and my fingers clenched into a fist that I quickly hid away in the pouch of my hoodie.

Miguel walked away and almost immediately I had to deal with the comments of my mother’s all-seeing eye.

“Is that water supposed to replace all the drool coming from your mouth.” She said with her normal condescending tone. She was proud of every little comment she made.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My tactic of “deny deny deny” had never really worked for me. But even if it doesn’t win an argument, it can usually bring one to an end. Not this time.

“He’s cute. A bit too old for you though. Maybe when you’re 18 and he’s-“

“Mom, stop.” I interjected.

“What!? I’m just acknowledging your feelings Keaty. It’s okay to look you know, I’m sure Bjorn wouldn’t mind. I’m married and even I get carried away when looking sometimes.”

“Ew. Mom, gross.”

“What? Am I not allowed to look? I gave you detailed advice on how to have sex and you thinks it’s gross just for me to-“

“Can you please not say that so loudly mom?”

Flushed with embarrassment I tucked myself down to make myself smaller and harder to notice, like a turtle retreating into its shell. At least there wasn’t any other customers here. Still, I didn’t want Miguel to hear this conversation.

“Speaking of which, how are you Bjorn doing? Did you two have a fight last night?”

There were plenty of clues for my mom to pick up on, so I’m not surprised she noticed.

“I wouldn’t say that. He was just being mean for a little bit. He apologized today, I just… I just don’t want to forgive him so easily.”

Her fingers eagerly tapped on the glossed wooden table.

“Yeah I’ve been there before. Sometimes we say or do things we don’t mean, especially when you’re younger. But when those things start to repeat, and it becomes a pattern, then there are bigger issues. You can’t stay mad forever, but you don’t need to forgive immediately either. You should tell Bjorn why you’re mad, and why it matters to you. Hopefully, he won’t make those same mistakes again. But what do I know, I’m just your mother.”

We both smiled at each other. My mom continued to be the infinite pool of wisdom that I drew strength and courage from. I’ll talk to Bjorn tonight and see what he has to say, but the last thing I want to hear is another lame “I’m sorry” without much merit behind it.

Miguel returned with our drinks and took our orders. He must have been looking for a good tip today because he poured the charm on.

“I think my son wants to try your ultimate burrito thing-“

“Your son? Oh no, that can’t be your son, you’re much too young to have a son.” He cooed.

I rolled my eyes at his cheesy remarks but more so, I was feeling jealous that he showed her much greater attention than me. Soon they had a conversation about me, my age, my school, our new home. Normally, I would have begged just to receive my food already. But with Miguel distracted, I could ogle his strapping physical features and listen to him speak without interruption. His charm and accent, ever so captivating, faded away as he left to put our order in.

When the food arrived, it was just as enchanting as the boy who brought it to us. Large plates filled with colorful greens, warm yellows, and deep reds, highlighted with dollops of homemade sour cream, painted a lovely picture of spicy and savory dishes. As delicious as it was beautiful, the plates were soon cleaned until they left only the vague hint of the meals they previously held.

Needless to say, Miguel got a hearty tip in response to the hearty meal and of course, his charismatic charm.

My mother and I left with full stomachs and I genuinely felt happier than when I arrived. My gloomy attitude faded with the wind as I breathed in a breath of fresh coastal air. Almost instantly after getting in the car though, I felt the churn of the spices, cheeses, and meats arguing in my stomach. And when that argument turned into a brawl resembling a scene from Braveheart, I knew this was the last stop of our little outing. I needed to get home and deal with the consequences of Spanish food in my American stomach. Still, I regret nothing.

My dad was still away with my cousins when we returned home, but my mom told me not to get too comfortable. Apparently, they wanted to take me out for a more formal dinner tonight. On top of that, we were going to visit the local mall. This means I’ll probably get to pick out a few presents. My parents turned a bad habit into a tradition. After forgetting to buy me gifts for so many years, they decided to just take me shopping on the day of my birthday instead. It was a good compromise for all of us. Sure, there wasn’t much surprise behind my gifts, but I do end up getting exactly what I want, and it alleviates some stress from my parents.

After a few hours passed, my parents, cousins, and I, all piled into a car and headed to dinner first. I wasn’t very hungry after the big lunch, so I decided on going to a sports bar, at least there I can snack on some appetizers while everyone else eats their meals. I found it a bit hard to stay focused on my family though, because I kept getting text messages from Bjorn. They started off aggressive, then softened until eventually he was begging for me to talk to him. I assured him that I would when I got home. But the messages kept coming. His typing was erratic, emotionally charged, and unintelligible half the time. I was worried but shrugged it off as just another one of his emotional rants. He can deal with it for a few more hours.

“Can we go to Gamestop at the mall later Keaton!?” Jackie squealed as he stuffed French fries into his mouth.

“Maybe. If you finish your food and behave, I’m sure we can stop in there.” I whispered as I ruffled his hair.

I tried to get involved in the family conversations, but Bjorn’s text messages became increasingly vague. He was blending his languages and misspelling the majority of his words.

Finally, they came to an abrupt stop. My phone stopped buzzing, and Bjorn went quiet. At last, peace and quiet.

I felt stronger having ignored him this long and not give in. But something was gnawing at my psyche.

 

-

 

That night, we got home at about 10:00 pm. It was a late night of watching games at the restaura

The call came from a room at the local hospital.nt and then a shopping spree after. I got some new clothes, a few treats, and a new game as well. Jackie drooled on my shoulder as I carried his sleeping body into the house. After a day out of the house, and a few big meals, we were all exhausted.

There was a small thud when I dropped the sack of boy on the bed, but it did nothing to wake him up. I know I’ll have to wake him up or move him myself when I’m ready for bed, but I’d rather talk to Bjorn first. I’m just going to call him and tell him to come over tomorrow morning. That way, we can talk in person.

A swipe against the screen opened my homescreen and revealed two more missed calls. One from Bjorn at 8:39 pm, and another from an unknown number at 9:27 pm. I called back Bjorn

and ignored the unknown number. It went straight to voicemail.

“That’s weird.” I expressed aloud.

One more attempt, same result. Maybe his phone died.

I can’t help but notice the other missed call I had. I didn’t want to call them back, it’s probably just a wrong number. But still… 

I opened the missed call notification, then copied the number into my phone. Then, I opened google, pasted the same number, and clicked the search button. There was a common result in the top searches. My heart started to race a bit and I felt my head whirling in sync with the ceiling fan. I quickly opened the phone menu and called the number back. 

The phone number came back to a room at a local hospital.

A weak and broken voice picked up the phone.

 “Keaton?” The voice creaked.

 I felt my heart shatter.