What was I going to the fridge for? Oh yeah, food!
Max was coming over to get the spare key to the apartment, and I was sure he’d be hungry after his shift at the hospital.
"Time to get the coffee brewing,” I muttered to myself as I buzzed Max into the building.
Max had been my best friend from the moment we met after literally bumping into each other during my first week in my new American school. A school that turned out to be so different from what I’d been used to in Portugal.
Max's home life wasn't all that great, so he spent a lot of time at my house, becoming more of a family member than a friend. The only difference between us was that I loved reading and had a passion for languages, something else I got from my dad, while Max felt a pull toward medicine and helping people. When I started my Early Childhood studies, Max went to nursing college.
Our made-up family of four was pretty much perfect in my eyes all the way up to the day of the tragic accident that took both my parents last Christmas. Six months later, it still hit me hard in the chest every time I thought of the day I was told that I would never see my parents again and, more than anything, wouldn't be able to hug them and feel like I belonged somewhere.
"Hey, Joebug, what's up?" Max said, coming in and dropping his backpack in the hallway.
I got stuff out of the fridge to make a couple of sandwiches and ignored his use of the nickname he’d given me in high school.
"Ooh, is that chorizo in your hand, or are you happy to see me?" Max asked with a smirk and his eyebrows motioning up and down.
"Do you want coffee?" I asked, ignoring him.
"Hell, yeah. I feel like I've been put on the spin cycle of a washing machine and still came out dripping. I love my shifts in the ER, but, man, it’s hard work."
"Any interesting patients today?" My mom had worked in the emergency room in the same hospital with Max, and she always used to share her funniest patient stories. It became a tradition on our weekly catch-ups and was something I always looked forward to.
"This hot guy came in today with a kid who needed some stitches on his little finger. He looked so nervous, I thought he was going to faint at the sight of blood. Unfortunately, there was no need for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation." Max chuckled but then looked down and frowned.
He’d met someone last Christmas, and it seemed like it was the real deal for my friend, but the day he came to tell me about the guy he’d met was the same day we got the news about my parents. Once I’d recovered from the shock and grief, I tried to bring up the subject, but he refused to talk about it. I suspected he was nursing a broken heart and was being stubborn about it.
“You okay?” I asked. “Have you been on any dates recently?”
“Of course I have.” The indignation in his voice was clear. “I’m young, good looking, and smart. I can get all the ass I want.”
“You forgot to mention modest too.”
I finished making the sandwiches as the coffee maker was spewing its last drops of coffee into the pot. I loved the smell of coffee; it always reminded me of my grandmother’s house in Portugal.
I used to joke with my mom that the blood on her side of the family was fifty percent coffee. Of course, it had been a while since I’d walked into a house that had that familiar smell of a freshly made brew.
"Are you all set for the trip?" Max asked before taking a bite of his sandwich and bringing us back to the reason for his visit.
"Nearly. I'm all packed, and I've got the ashes with all the documentation." I looked down at my sandwich, well aware that wasn't what Max meant, but I was trying to avoid overthinking the reason for my trip.
"Joel,” he said, making me look straight at him, “how do you feel about going back? I know you're trying to avoid talking about it, but I'm worried about you."
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "I have amazing memories of my holidays in Portugal, and I'm looking forward to seeing my grandparents and my great-grandma again. I'm just nervous, I guess. What if they’re disappointed?"
"What makes you think that? Joebug, you are the best person I know. You are fun, caring, and the kids at school idolize you. I'm sure your family will love you too."
I sighed, almost convinced but still apprehensive. I hadn’t been back for so long.
“I don’t know. I just never thought the next time I'd see my family would be to scatter the ashes of both my parents. Before school started last year, Mom and I had spoken about going back together and making a family vacation out of it. Now, it'll be just me."
"Have you got any plans while you're out there and until I arrive?" Max asked with a wink. Trust him to change the subject to get me out of my mood.
"Nah, I am sure stuff will happen, though.” Once again I looked at the wall next to the fridge where there was a photo of my parents and me at Westhampton Beach, taken when I was only fifteen.
“They wanted their ashes scattered around the cliff behind the church where they got married. I was there once, and the place is beautiful. The landscape of the cliffs is striking; it’s no wonder they married there and chose it as their final resting place. I couldn't have picked a better place. Other than that, it's flexible. I might rent a car since I’m thinking I might like to travel a bit while I’m there.” I finished my sandwich and took a sip of coffee.
"What do you think the gay scene is like out there?” He leaned closer. “Joebug, I'm counting on you to check it out before I get there. We’re both in need of a good vacation fling to relieve the stress of city life. We need walks on the beach, kisses at sunset, and lube—Lots. Of. Lube,” he said, punctuating each of his last words.
