“It’s okay. You didn’t do it.” Jamal looked up at the photographs of racehorses that lined the walls. “No, it wouldn’t happen here, what happened to my friend.”
A heavy silence settled on them. Matt reached out for something— anything— to say. “Where did you say you’re from again?”
“Kazakhstan.”
“Where the fuck is that?” Matt clamped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”
Jamal gave him a sad smile. “It’s between China in the east and Russia in the north.”
“Oh. Sorry, I’m really bad at geography.” Matt really should’ve spent more time listening in on his history classes in high school, instead of swooning over the star quarterback who sat just in front of him. But how would he have known, ten years ago, that someone he was attracted to could possibly be from such an exotic place?
When he saw a tear trace down the well-worn path on Jamal’s cheek, he couldn’t stop himself. He reached out and wiped it away. Jamal blushed and pulled away. Matt held up his hands. “Sorry, man. Sorry, my bad. It’s just a reaction. I hate to see anyone upset.” He smiled, hoping that would take away any fear that he was some pervert type ready to jump the poor guy.
Jamal’s smile was as watery as his tears. “That’s okay.”
Matt sat back and took a sip of his drink. He glanced at Jamal’s, piled high with whipped cream like he always seemed to like it. Jamal glanced at it and then lifted it to his lips as well. Over the rim of his cup, he looked at Matt. His eyes were so green, so beautiful, that Matt found himself holding his breath. What he wouldn’t do to be able to wake up next to Jamal, and have him looking at him with those green eyes, instead of here in this dark coffee shop, with the failing light and the bickering New Yorkers.
“So what happened?” His voice was soft.
Jamal shook his head. “I don’t know, really. My father called. He told me right before he got off the phone. He thought it was funny. He was laughing.”
Fuck. “Really? What the fuck? How could he find it funny?” Matt stared at him with his mouth hanging open.
Jamal nodded. “Yeah, as you say. What the fuck?”
“But why?” Not that he wanted to make things worse for Jamal, but Matt couldn’t stop his curiosity.
“He’s like us. My friend is.” Jamal said in a quiet tone, almost a whisper. “H-he’s like us at the meetings, except more brave.”
“So that’s why he was hurt? What the fuck?”
“In my country, it’s considered wrong. You’re ‘against nature’ to be this way. There’s something wrong up here.” He tapped the side of his head.
“Really? Shit.” Okay. So Matt knew it wasn’t sunshine and roses everywhere. Even so, it was always hard to face the reality of a lot of gay men’s lives outside the liberal areas of the world. “So I take it you’re living here full time now?”
Jamal shook his head. “My sister wants me to, but I have no choice. I must go back.”
“But why?”
Sighing, Jamal waved a hand in the air. “Firstly, my visa. If I stay, I will be illegal, as I’m only on a student one. Second, family. The only reason I’m here at all is because my father is paying for college. If I don’t go home and start earning it back, he’ll be very angry.”
“So?”
Jamal dropped his hand to the table and looked at Matt. “What do you mean ‘so’?”
“So what if your dad’s pissed off? He’s the one who laughed at your friend being hurt.” Matt thought that would have been obvious.
Jamal bit his lower lip and in a small voice said, “Yeah, but he’s my papa. He’s my family.”
Matt blew out between his teeth. “I-I think I get it. My mom’s a pain in the ass, but I still love her.”
“Family’s family.” Jamal gave him an apologetic smile. “It’s better there… in some ways.”
Yeah, like having a homophobe of a dad laugh because your best friend has been hospitalized. Matt’s family wasn’t perfect, but right now he’d take them, hands down, over Jamal’s.
A different, sharper voice cut into their conversation. “Matt!”
He looked away from Jamal to the source. Ms. Feinstein was looking back at him from her normal seat by the large windows at the front of the shop. She was glancing out, and then looking at him with a worried expression.
“What’s up, Ms. Feinstein?” If she had that look on her face, then he knew to be worried himself, as nothing ever bothered her. It was then that he noticed the light had taken a funny turn outside. Even the New York couple had stopped bickering to look up the long, narrow room to her.
“Think there’s a blizzard coming. An actual blizzard. Not one of those namby-pamby snows the folks on the Weather Channel are always yammering on about.” She looked away from her audience once more to stare outside.
“Right.” Well, shit, what now? He glanced at Jamal, but the boy was the only one not looking and had trained his gaze back to the table.
Matt hesitated for a moment, wondering what to do. The New York couple were looking confused; Jamal uninterested. No wonder. Matt supposed the beating of a good friend was more important than some piss-poor weather. He glanced up at the clock on the wall behind the counter. It read twelve-thirty. Too early to close up. But suppose he called his boss? Yeah, that would be the best thing to do.
“Be right back,” he told Jamal as he stood up. Catching the eye of the couple, he said, “You guys might want to head back to where you’re staying. Is it in town?”
“A B&B just off the Main Street, towards the racetrack. I forgot the name of it,” the man said, looking worried.
“You need to get going. Just in case we get a whiteout.” Matt smiled, to take the edge off his voice.
The man sat, looking rather stunned by the change in weather. His wife nudged him and stood up. “You heard the man. Get your ass in gear or spend the night here by yourself.”
It occurred to Matt that Jamal had a much longer walk back than the rest of them. Ms. Feinstein lived close by the coffee shop, so it wouldn’t be any big deal for her to get home, though it was slippery out via Caroline Street. Matt bit his lip, trying to figure out how to get her home safely and get the big city couple to move. They were still just standing there, not getting their coats on or anything else. Talking to each other like nothing was wrong.
And then there was Jamal. Matt couldn’t leave him to try and struggle all the way back to Skidmore on his own. Maybe he could come back with Matt, and then Matt could try and drive him back? But what if he got stuck? The light outside the windows was already turning a very funny color, which meant the blizzard was almost on them. He blew his breath out of his nose, then made up his mind.
“Ms. Feinstein, don’t head off alone. I’ll make sure you get back okay.”
“I’m eighty-three years old, boy. If I’ve made it this long on my own, I’m sure a few more minutes won’t be any big deal.” Though her voice was acid, he noted she didn’t look like she was about to go out on her own.
He looked at the couple. “We’re going down Caroline Street. If your B&B is close by, you can come part way with us, but if it isn’t, honestly, I can’t tell you how much you need to get your asses in gear, right now. It’s gonna be a whiteout pretty damn soon.”
That spurred the woman into motion. “Come on, Mike, you’d make a pretty shitty snowman.” The man— Mike— never said a word, but meekly put his coat on and began to get his computer and newspaper together to leave.
Through all that, Jamal looked completely unconcerned about the events outside.
“Don’t tell me, let me guess. This is spring-like weather back home?” Matt couldn’t help but grin. This probably was nothing if you were from almost-Russia.
That at least brought out a teasing smile from Jamal. Matt’s heart did a funny little flutter that had nothing to do with the bad weather. Jamal was so damn pretty. Matt had to tear his eyes away and turn towards the phone. Over his shoulder,
he said, “I need to call my boss, then we’ll see about getting you home.”
Chapter Three
Jamal watched Matt walk away, muttering some words about a boss and closing up before the storm hit. Across the way, the sophisticated couple wrapped themselves up tight in their winter gear and walked towards the front of the building, their footsteps creaking on the slatted wooden floor. Ms. Feinstein stood by the glass pane that was the front of the building, looking out, her face showing concern. Jamal too, looked towards the window. The strange glow was beginning to darken. The snow would be upon them any moment. A glance at his phone told him that his brother would be calling any time now, and his eldest sister after him. It was like that every day, first his parents in the late morning, when he had a break between classes, and then his brother two hours later, followed by his eldest sister. His other sister would call in the evening to check in on him, followed by his two cousins still at home, and one more call from his mother, who would do one last check in to make sure he was alright.
He should’ve been putting his coat on and going back, but something kept him in his seat. Matt grinned at him from behind the counter, before turning away, no doubt talking to his boss. It was that grin, along with that face, that was keeping him sitting here. Denis would be rolling his eyes at him, if only he could see the scene right now.
Jamal had been aware— painfully aware— of Matt going on three years. But the older man had always seemed too popular at the LGBT meetings on campus. Always surrounded by other men, who looked nothing like Jamal. And there had been that time when he had had a boyfriend, even though Denis said they weren’t together now. But Jamal wasn’t anything like the type that always seemed to hang around Matt. He was just a bit too short, a shade too exotic, a bit too soft-looking, in a world that wanted high-testosterone, muscle-bound men.
Matt was everything that was popular with the crowd at school. Tall, muscular, rugged without seeming like he should be shooting small animals in the woods. His hair was almost as dark as Jamal’s, and longer, shaggy around a chiseled face. His eyes were dark and warm, and always held a kind light in them. He could have anyone he wanted.
Jamal sighed. No doubt Matt was only being nice with the hot chocolate. He did note, with a shy little smile to himself, that the coffee he had asked for hadn’t been given to him, but the hot chocolate, with just the right amount of whipped cream, had come in its place. So maybe Matt had taken notice of him. But no, come to think of it, he probably did only make note of who liked what and when— like he had said.
Jamal shut his eyes, suddenly too tired to move after the emotions of the past two hours. Serik hurt, possibly brain damaged, and here he was, sitting in a warm cafe, enjoying the safety being in New York brought him. It wasn’t fair. Of all people, it should have been Serik here. Laughing, enjoying the prospect of more snow on the ground. Jamal made a mental note to go over to the local racetrack once the snow had stopped. Serik would have loved that most of all, the Victorian buildings buried under the feathery snow. One year he’d get to come back early enough to actually see the races. See the town heaving with all the tourists and racing fans who came from everywhere to watch all the famous horses for six weeks every July and August. Every summer, his family always demanded that he return home. No doubt to be watched over, in case he did something as terrible as fall in love.
He sighed again and looked into the white mug before him, watching the way the last of the chocolate had stuck to the sides of the cup, along with a ridge of cream.
“Hey. You okay?”
He looked up to see Matt smiling at him, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. No, they looked worried. About the weather, or about him. Jamal wasn’t sure. In case it was for him, Jamal smiled and nodded. “I need to get going, eh?” Even though he didn’t want to, he stood up and began putting his coat on. Looking down, he saw that the bottoms of his trousers were wet from sitting in the warm coffeehouse. He had known this was going to happen. Nonetheless, he couldn’t stop his sigh of frustration.
A light touch on his arm caught his attention. “Hey, wait a minute,” Matt said. When Jamal looked again at the taller man, there was real concern in his eyes, and Jamal was sure it was all for him. “You can’t walk all the way back to Skidmore in this. You could get lost in the storm, and— and I’ve got a better idea.”
Jamal held his breath. “Yes?”
“Help me walk Ms. Feinstein home, and then just come to my place and spend the night. I mean…” Jamal felt a little thrill as a bright blush crept up Matt’s cheeks as he spoke. Could that mean…? No, he couldn’t let himself go there. Matt was just a nice guy and didn’t want him to take the risk.
“That’s very kind of you, but I can’t take advantage of your kindness. I’ll be fine.” Jamal hated to say those words, but it was true. This was only a bit of snow, nothing worse than he would have seen back home. And the wet trousers. Well, that was his own fault. Three winters in New York, and he was growing soft.
“Oh no,” came Ms. Feinstein’s voice by her spot at the window.
Both men looked up as the coffeehouse was plunged into darkness. Outside, the wind rose into a howl. What had been buildings and bare trees a moment before, was just a swirl of white now. The only object that could still be seen was the stoplight, and that was because it was just outside the coffeehouse.
“Well, that settles it. You’re coming home with me. No arguments,” Matt said. He gave Jamal a little clap on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, you can have the sofa, and I don’t snore— though my cat does.”
He really shouldn’t have felt as excited by those words as he did. But Jamal couldn’t help the sneaky little smile playing at the corners of his lips. Ms. Feinstein was all but hopping from foot to foot in her anxiety, so he nodded to Matt and followed him to the front of the building.
When they were at Ms. Feinstein’s side, Matt said, “Okay you two, I need to shut everything off and set the alarm.” He looked guilty as he added, “For that you both have to stand outside for a minute. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, honey, I think your friend here and I can stand a little bit of snow.” Ms. Feinstein’s words belied the state of the weather outside.
Jamal smiled wryly at her idea of a bit of snow. Even the stoplight was lost from sight now. He jumped when Ms. Feinstein put her gloved hand in his.
“No use losing you in this, is there?” She smiled and squeezed his hand.
“It’s not that bad out.”
“Right, just a bit of snow.” She winked at him, as they walked out.
“Sorry guys, I’ll be as quick as I can.” Matt’s face was full of contrition.
It wasn’t his fault. Jamal grinned at him, but probably all Matt saw were his eyes peeking out from the collar of his coat. He seemed to like his eyes, Matt did. Or at least he was always seemed to be looking at them whenever Jamal looked up from his hot chocolate. That was one thing they should have done— brought re-fills to keep their hands warm. His hand in Ms. Feinstein’s was cold in just the few seconds they stood by the large pane of glass that encompassed the front of the store.
Jamal glanced in at the giant coffee grinder that took up the entire wall of the building on the side where the counter was. It was a lovely thing, but now was not the time to be thinking of it. As he looked out onto the street, he realized it was going to take both him and Matt, one on either side of Ms. Feinstein, to see her back to her house safely. The wind was forcing the flinty snow to fly in one direction, creating the conditions they were experiencing, but also making the pavement icier than it had been just an hour ago. He squeezed her hand, thinking it would be felt as reassurance.
“Don’t worry, son, we’ll get back okay.” She squeezed his hand back.
“Okay!” Matt stepped out of the shop, wrapped from the top of his head to his knees in winter garb. They both moved closer to him, their faces all but huddled together against the wind and the snow.
“Here’s what I think we should
do,” said Matt, taking Ms. Feinstein’s free hand. “Let’s go down Main towards Caroline, turn and go up the hill from there.”
“What about just taking the alley that runs towards the library?” Ms. Feinstein’s voice was all but carried off by the wind.
Jamal couldn’t help but wonder why they hadn’t formed a plan while they had been inside, where it was warm. Every second out here was taking away what little heat they had. And he had foolishly left his apartment without either a hat or a scarf. The hood of his coat wasn’t helping much in this wind.
When he glanced up, Matt was shaking his head. “I don’t want to take a chance of one of us falling. That alleyway’s too steep in this.”
“Can we just go?” Jamal was mortified when he realized that had been him making that sad little plea. But he couldn’t help it. In addition to his ears starting to go numb, his lower legs were, decidedly, freezing from being wet. He couldn’t begin to express to Matt how grateful he was that he could stay with him and didn’t have to go all the way back to campus in this.
Matt looked at him for a second, and then he took off his ski hat and handed it to Jamal. “Dude, you should’ve told me you didn’t have much gear on.” Before Jamal could protest, Matt had let go of Ms. Feinstein for a moment and dug into his coat pocket, producing another, smaller ski cap. “Never leave home without three or four in this weather.” His eyes crinkled up into a smile.
“Okay, let’s go!” Ms. Feinstein re-took his hand and all but dragged the boys behind her. “Freezing to death doesn’t sound like a good way to die.”
They walked down the street, initially in the direction of Jamal’s campus. Only, his home was too far away now. All the Victorian buildings were snow lashed and huddled in the cold, the shops closed, or in the process of closing. The only people they saw were shop workers trying to get home before it got worse.
Un/Common Ground Page 2