“Yeah, all good,” he says, flashing a small smile. I’ve seen him smile a lot recently. That one wasn’t genuine. He’s bothered by this. I can’t help but think that it was aimed at me. What if the brick hit someone? What if it hit Teddy?
“Are you okay?” He asks, his face full of concern. “You look like you just went into a world of your own.”
“Is it okay if I go home?” I ask him, my eyes looking into his. I’m reflected in the blue of his irises, I look drunk, and mybottom lip is starting to quiver. Why can’t I get the look on his face out of my mind?
“Yeah, of course… do you want me to walk you home?” He asks, and I instantly shake my head.
“I’m okay, it’s not far, I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” I tell him as I grab my things.
“Thanks for the lovely night, everyone,” I say to the room before heading out the door.
My mind races faster than I can keep up with it. I feel a headache coming. Who threw the brick? And why do I feel like it was aimed at me? And does it have anything to do with my mother’s death?
As I make my way into work, I’m instantly reminded of last night. I see a wooden panel blocking the smashed window. Part of me was hoping it was just a horrible dream, but unfortunately, I’m fully awake, with a slight hangover.
I head into the bookshop and see Teddy pacing around the shop. It’s quiet today, my body relaxes at the thought. I don’t know how much customer service I can do with this headache. Hangovers suck. I need paracetamol. Maybe a Cornish pasty too.
“Hey, how are you?” I ask Teddy, who’s pacing up and down with a stack of books, but isn’t putting any of them away.
“It’s quiet today, do you think it’s because of the smashed window?” He asks, his voice quivers. His eyes look puffy.
“I’m sure it’s just because it’s a Sunday, isn’t it always quiet on a Sunday?” I ask softly.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he says, beginning to put some books away. I go to the till and sit down, waiting for a customer to show up. A few teens are reading and browsing. I wish a queer bookstore like this had been here when I was younger; it would have made me feel a lot less alone in my queerness.
A boy walks over to me with a few books in his hand. He’s wearing a work shirt withOliverstitched close to his heart. He places the books in front of me, and I start scanning them. One of them isThey Both Die at the End, which is my favourite. Seeing it now makes me want to reread it.
“Hi there, how are you today?” I ask him, making conversation. He takes out his phone, I assume it’s to pay for the books.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says, but he looks deep in thought. He goes to say something but stops himself. He takes a deep breath in through his nose before speaking again. “Can I ask you a question?” I simply smile and nod in reply. He takes a few seconds to think of what he’s going to say. “You’re gay, right?” I don’t know where this is going, but I reply anyway.
“Yep, I’m gay. Everyone working here is queer in some way. We almost have the full alphabet in here,” I tell him with a small laugh. The joke was pretty lame, but I appreciate the polite laughter he gives back.
“How did you find out?” He asks, his voice quiet and soft. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie until the contactless sign comes up on the chip and pin. He pays for his books but leaves them sitting on the counter.
“Well… I always felt like I was different. I just didn’t get the whole dating girls thing. I was never interested in it. But when I started to read books with gay characters in them, it made me feel a little less alone. It made me understand myself better.I could see myself in the characters. Does that make sense?” I explain, my mind thinking back to thirteen-year-old me reading gay romance novels. It made me think, iftheycan be happy with a guy, why can’t I? It just made more sense to me. I didn’t fully understand why I felt like that, but it helped me realise that being gay was a thing, and that it was okay to have these feelings.
“Yeah, that makes sense. Are you out to your parents?” He asks. I feel like there’s something hidden in that question.
“Yeah, I told my mum when she was still with us. Why do you ask?”
“I feel like I might be gay. Well, I know I am. I want to tell my parents about it, but I’m nervous,” he says, his voice quivering throughout it like it’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud to someone.
“Well, it’s going to be nerve-racking. I’m not gonna lie and say that it’s easy, but once you do it… that weight on your shoulders, your feelings right now? It just floats away. And then, the ball’s in their park. If they accept you, then that’s great. If they don’t, then you’re much better off without them,” I tell him, smiling politely at him. His shoulders relax once I tell him that.
“Thanks, that’s great advice actually,” he says, smiling widely. He grabs his books.
“They Both Die at the Endis an amazing book by the way. You’ll need to come back and let me know what you think,” I tell him. He smiles even brighter.
“I definitely will, see you later,” he says, almost skipping out of the shop. He walks out like a completely different boy.
I think the thing that makes being gay so hard when you’re young is the fact that you feel so lonely. Once you show a gay kid he isn’t alone, and that being queer is a beautiful thing that should never be hidden away, their whole life brightens up.
“You’re good at that,” Teddy says, coming up to the counter. He has a smile on his face that makes my heart do a backflip.
“Thank you, I just… it’s nice being able to make kids like me feel better about their queerness. I didn’t have anywhere like this when I was younger,” I tell him. He fixes his hair and pulls a chair up next to me.
“Andnowyou see why I do this, why I made this place.”
