Chapter Six
Joel
I woke up reasonably early,familiar fresh air coming in from the small bedroom thanks to the open balcony door. In New York, I couldn't afford to keep the windows open because of the noise. The day was likely to be a hot one, but for now, the crisp bed sheets felt like heaven.
I didn't have a plan for today; it was my first full day back, so I was going to take it easy, have a lazy morning, and maybe go to the beach in the afternoon.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by the amount of food my grandmother had left for me, but I still chuckled when I opened the fridge to find it brimming with three different types of ham, sliced cheese, yogurt, and an assortment of vegetables and meats. There was also sweet bread and jam in the cupboard, so I made myself a light breakfast and sat on the balcony off the living room drinking my coffee and watching the people go by down below.
I had to admit I’d never really paid much attention to how people in New York presented themselves, but it was striking how different the people were here. Men and women walked past, going about their lives, some going to work, some running errands, and a few people carrying shopping bags full to the brim with fresh produce from the local market. One thing they all had in common was how they dressed. Men all wore shirts and women walked the uneven sidewalks in their best clothes and high-heeled sandals.
The warmth and brightness of the weather were reflected in the colors they wore: whites, bright pinks, lime greens, yellows. There were no season colors or trends, as I’d heard my friends discuss so many times. This was just how they were. They liked to present the best of themselves every day. Very few people wore casual clothes, and those that did were mostly young people or students. I wondered if social media had as much influence here as it did in America where people wore clothes and followed trends just because some allegedly famous person had done it on Instagram or Facebook.
A group of people walked by, talking loudly about someone’s wedding. It made me think of family and yesterday evening. It had been surprisingly easy to talk to my cousins. Despite the close proximity of our ages, we hadn’t been close growing up because they weren't immediately local like David, so I was pleased that we’d found some common topics of discussion.
One of my cousins, Tânia, who was also a teacher at a school in Almada, told me about the student summer exchange programs they run. Students who wanted to improve their English language would usually go to London, but Tânia would like to explore some options in America.
I never considered working with other schools abroad, but it would make sense to try and connect with Portuguese schools now that my program was likely to be made official. It was an exciting prospect for the students, and I could see myself enjoying running the program. Especially if I had the opportunity to work with my cousin. I would have to arrange to meet up with her soon and then contact my principal at the school.
As I thought of work back in New York, I remembered I hadn't texted Max yet to let him know I arrived safely and also to check that all was okay at the apartment.
By my calculations, Max would be just about finishing a shift, so I texted, and his reply came through almost immediately, letting me know that all was fine at the apartment. Apparently, I’d just got a new hunky bear of a neighbor, and then I was ordered to start having fun right the fuck now.
I laughed at Max's text and hoped for one of two things: that my neighbor was gay and open to Max's interest or that he had a great sense of humor and tolerance.
I was putting the phone down again when a text from David came through. My heart did a little summersault at David's request to meet up at some point.
Would I sound too desperate if I suggested meeting today?
Screw it. I didn't have anything else to do.
I made myself another coffee as I waited for David's reply, which felt like forever. I wanted to see him again sooner rather than later. We got along so well last night, and I hoped I would have the chance to get closer to him.
Just thinking of David got my heart beating a little faster, or maybe it was the caffeine. Regardless, I was looking forward to more time with him. I was also curious to know what it was he had to show me.
When the reply came to meet up this afternoon, I nearly jumped out of my seat with anticipation. I decided to get ready and see my grandparents before heading to the café.
I had a brief catch-up with them, which also included a detailed account of what I had for breakfast. I had a feeling it would take my grandmother a while to remember I'd been living on my own for a number of years and my mom had made sure I was able to cook for myself.
I also understood that now that her daughter was no longer with us, she felt she needed to make sure I was really here with them, healthy and happy. I was more than okay giving her that reassurance. I had missed them, and even though I had only just arrived, I knew it was going to be very hard when I had to leave in a few weeks. I needed to make more of an effort to visit them in the future. If I was really honest with myself, there hadn’t been any reason for me not to have come back for so long. Why had I allowed myself to get so busy with my studies and work that I almost forgot about my family?
Deciding not to focus on something I couldn't change, I headed to the café to meet David.
Teresa was behind the counter, filling the chiller with drinks when I arrived, and gave me the biggest smile when she saw me.
“Joel! How nice to see you again. How are you? Can I get you a coffee?”
“Hi, Teresa, I'm good, thanks. I'll have to decline the coffee, but thanks for the offer. I'm here to meet David. Is he around?”
“He's just finishing up in the kitchen. We had a last-minute change on a cake order, so he's been working on that. How about a custard tart? I bet you don't get them this good in America. David's custard tarts are the best.”
Teresa spoke so proudly of her nephew I could hardly resist accepting one of the delicious-looking pastries. Not that anyone would have to twist my arm very hard.
“Now you're talking. How can I resist when they look so appetizing and I can smell the cinnamon all the way from over here?” They looked delicious all lined up on the tray. “By the way, thank you so much for yesterday's dinner. It was superb.” I took a bite of the custard tart, letting the delicious flavor of the custard filling and the flaky pastry fill my mouth.
“Wow, this tastes amazing,” I said.
“I'm happy you like it. David altered the original recipe. He won't tell anyone what his secret is and hasn't even written it down. I keep telling him he needs to make a recipe book. It would be a success.”
