by A. J. Truman
Like me, Rafe wanted to say. But it wouldn’t be true.
Not on this continent.
Chapter 5
EAMONN
Even though Eamonn’s hometown of Guildford was only a half-hour from Stroude, it was like two separate galaxies. His visits home usually coincided with handiwork needing to be done around the house. Eamonn stood at the top of a ladder changing outdoor light bulbs.
“You really don’t need to do this.” His mum watched from below. “I’m not made of glass. I can do this myself.”
“I know you can, mum. But I can, too.”
She was only in her forties and in good shape, but after waiting tables all day for years to put a roof over his and his sisters’ heads, helping out around the house was the least he could do. This was supposed to be a job for his dad, if he hadn’t skipped out on them years ago.
“Jesus, mum. How long has it been since you changed these things? Did you purposely want the house shrouded in darkness?” He unscrewed a bulb above the front door and put in a fresh one.
“Thank you.”
Eamonn came down the ladder and discarded the dead bulb in an old shopping bag. He moved the ladder to the side of the house, and his mum handed him a fresh light bulb. Back up he went.
“I was having a chat with your Uncle George the other day,” he heard his mum say, and he already knew where this was going. “and he says he’d love to have you join him at his company when you graduate. They have a trainee program that’s a fast track to management.”
Eamonn rolled his eyes at the house, never at his mum. It seemed that the closer he got to graduation, the more people wanted to give him unsolicited advice.
For most of his summers and weekends going back to when he was barely a teen, Eamonn worked at his uncle’s box factory. He would fold and pack boxes until his fingers chapped. He was proud of the work, and grateful for the chance to make extra money, but he always saw it as a means to an end. He didn’t intend to build a name for himself in the box industry. He had been told by teachers to think outside the box, and he took the advice literally.
“Uncle George says you should give him a ring and discuss what you’re interested in doing. The trainee program can lead to manager positions in marketing, accounting, manufacturing, product development.”
“Product development? Are they creating an even boxier box?” Too bad Eamonn didn’t know what he wanted to be doing for the rest of his life. He seemed to be the only uni student who didn’t. Eamonn screwed in the new light bulb.
“You owe him a call,” she said.
He came down the ladder, and in her eyes, he saw she wasn’t going to let up.
“If it wasn’t for him and his company’s scholarship, you wouldn’t even be at Stroude.”
“I know.”
“They have an annual all-hands meeting in Tahiti!” She was more excited by that than her son.
“That’s not going to sway me.”
“Right.” She stopped herself. “You know, flying is actually the safest form of transportation in the world. I remember when we went on holiday to Greece all those years ago, you loved flying. They gave you little wings.”
“That was a long time ago.” Eamonn took down the ladder. He dropped the second dead bulb in the shopping bag without caring whether it broke.
“What changed?”
Eamonn grit his teeth. “I don’t hate flying. I hate airports.”
“I heard security checkpoints are bad, but it’s a shared miserable experience for all travelers. And then you get to jet off to someplace new.”
Watching his mum daydream about the magic of flying made his stomach twist into a tight knot. He carried the ladder around the house to the shed in the backyard. He shoved it against the wall a little too hard. The clanging echoed loudly in the shed.
“Eamonn.” She jogged up to him. “What did I say?”
“Airports are where people go to walk away from those they love and never come back.”
His mum’s face flooded with concern, and an uncomfortable silence filled the space between them. She put a hand on his cheek. “Eamonn…”
“I’ll call Uncle George. I promise.” He kissed her hand before moving it off his face and leaving.
* * *
Eamonn returned to campus and met Heath for a midday pint. They settled into a booth at Apothecary. Eleven-thirty wasn’t too early to start drinking.
His finger circled the rim of his glass. “So, what the fuck is going on with you and Louisa? Are you two shagging again?”
Heath looked away, but his red cheeks were always a dead giveaway. Eamonn remembered the time as a first-year when he walked in on Heath wanking off on his bed. All that week, whenever he saw Heath, the guy looked like someone smashed two cherries on his cheeks.
“You two were being extra nasty to each other last night. I know it had to be shag central.”
Heath beamed with his goofy smile.
“We haven’t seen each other all summer. We were just catching up.”
“Well, that’s a new euphemism.”
“We are still broken up. Just friends.”
There it was again. Just Friends.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Heath tried to sound adamant, God bless him. “I don’t want to get sucked into all that drama again.”
“Riiiight.” Eamonn had heard it all over the past two years. Just friends would turn into shagging friends, then into a relationship, then a fight, then a break-up, and finally back to just friends again. Living in a flat with them was like living with a roller coaster.
“It’s true. Louisa is impetuous and flighty and loud. I can’t believe she brought up Nathan last night.”
Eamonn’s chest tightened. He hated that just his name could do that to him.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Rafe asked about the fourth person in the flat. She had to give him an answer.”
“She didn’t have to start talking about his bloody acting career.”
Eamonn had encouraged Nathan to try out for a play as a first-year. He couldn’t forget the look of pure joy on Nathan’s face when he got the lead. He reaped what he sowed.
“He’s your mate, too,” Eamonn said. “It was always the four of us. Nathan and I just couldn’t do the just friends thing like you two.”
Heath squirmed in his seat, which made his long torso rock back and forth like a skyscraper in an earthquake.
“What?” Eamonn asked.
“Nothing says you two can’t get back together.” Heath shrugged.
“Oh, come the fuck on.”
“What? Nathan only broke up with you because he got cast in that film. He didn’t drop out of uni. He’s just taking a semester off while they shoot.”
“He’s not coming back. He’s going to be a movie star. Why would he come back for a stupid degree after acting opposite Helen Mirren and Hugh Grant?”
Heath tipped his glass at Eamonn. “For you.”
Eamonn rolled his eyes. “Trust me, mate. That’s not happening.”
He got up and walked to the toilet. People had written their names and messages all over the walls. It was a mishmash of scribble and color, and for a moment, it allowed Eamonn to block out the memories. But only for a moment. Then he vividly remembered the night Nathan told the three of them together over drinks that he was leaving school to take the part. He said it so coldly, as if he were telling someone on the Tube. “Sure, I’ll miss you guys,” Nathan said matter-of-factly.
Eamonn watched him pack up his room a week later, completely calm. In his mind, he was already on set. “What about us?” Eamonn asked, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“We should just call it quits now. No sense in dragging this out,” Nathan said while folding his shirts.
“I’ll come visit you.”
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea, E.” Nathan looked up at him with his big green eyes, those same eyes that had been Midori sour green during sex and cloudy gray in th
e morning when they woke up. But that night, they were two vacant lots. “I don’t know where this will take me, but I’m going to see it through. I don’t want to be held back. And this comes at a good time because let’s be honest, things were petering out between us, don’t you think?”
That was news to Eamonn. He had fallen hard for Nathan and hadn’t stopped for almost two years. This person in front of him wasn’t the same man he had given his heart to.
Nathan balled up his socks and shoved them into his suitcase. Eamonn grabbed his hand.
“I love you,” he creaked out.
“I appreciate that. But we both knew this wasn’t going to last forever.” Nathan took back his hand. “I really need to finish packing.”
Eamonn stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. He didn’t want to think about what happened next. He felt empty all over again. He had given his heart to Nathan, and he stomped on it, tore it into scraps, set it on fire, and pissed on the ashes. Eamonn wasn’t going to let that happen again.
He drove his fist into the wall of scribble and color as hard as he could, then returned back to Heath.
Chapter 6
RAFE
After another day, the fog of jetlag was beginning to lift. No longer did Rafe wake up in the middle of the night full of energy. That was one problem down. And the campus café had a decent selection of breakfast foods and sandwiches. Rafe could live off of sandwiches for a few months. He had walked into town, but the only place that sold food was a dingy corner store where expiration dates only seemed to be a suggestion.
Rafe had to remember the study part of studying abroad. He wasn’t just in England to legally drink in bars. He had to go to class, too. He had signed up for a quartet of courses on sedimentology, medieval history, physics, and Shakespeare.
The sedimentology and physics courses didn’t seem like they would be as rigorous as the comparable courses Rafe took back at Browerton, which he didn’t mind. He didn’t want to spend his entire semester abroad in a library.
He was a geology major and had his sights set on getting into BISHoP, the Browerton Integrated Sciences Honors Program. It was a competitive two-year program starting junior year that provided research funding and specialized classes. BISHoP was one of the big reasons Rafe applied to Browerton. Part of the reason he was studying abroad as a sophomore was because as a requirement of the program, he had to be on campus for his final two years.
Today was his Shakespeare course, which he was most excited for. What better place to study the bard?
He took a seat in the middle of the room. He soaked in the accents. That aside, it wasn’t much different than a class back home at Browerton. Notebooks, chatter, desks.
“Y’alright?” The lecturer, a woman with short hair and wearing a pantsuit, asked the classroom. “Welcome back to uni.”
She had everyone go around the class and state their name and where they were from. Most kids were from somewhere in England, usually London or just outside. Rafe was looking forward to it being his turn. For the first time, he had a different story.
“I’m Rafe. I’m studying abroad at Stroude this semester. I’m originally from America. Virginia specifically, right outside Washington D.C. I’m excited to study Shakespeare. I love Empire. It’s this show that’s King Lear set in the rap world.”
“We have Empire here, too,” said a cute Indian classmate in the front row. Rafe instantly noticed his bright brown eyes hidden behind thick glasses. The rest of the class laughed. Rafe could’ve sworn the guy’s eyes stayed on him for an extra second.
And he wasn’t the only one. Two other gay guys in class (Rafe’s gaydar wasn’t completely off) checked him out. Rafe smiled to himself about the attention. It wasn’t something he was used to at Browerton. He remembered classes at home when there’d be a foreign student. No matter where he or she was from, the student always came off as exotic. It made them interesting. Maybe, just maybe, Rafe’s American accent was as attractive to these guys as their British accents were to him.
For the first day of class, the lecturer went over the list of titles they would be reading. Rafe’s focus, though, pinballed between the three guys in his class who had checked him out. Perhaps he would be lucky to hook up with one of them. Or all of them. At the same time. That was what Operation: Slut was all about.
When class was over, Rafe did a hair check to ensure his curls weren’t out of control. He walked over to Arjun, the cute Indian classmate, who was typing out a text.
“What’s done is done,” Rafe said.
“Excuse me?” Arjun asked.
“That’s the only line I remember from Macbeth. That and ‘out, out brief candle,’ or something like that.”
“That’s more than me.”
“I saw that Twelfth Night is on the list. There’s this Amanda Bynes movie She’s the Man which is a modern-day retelling of it. So in case you fall behind, just watch it.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s a classic. Kind of a classic. I’m really happy that she’s getting her life back on track. It’s on Netflix. Maybe, you know, we could watch it sometime.” Rafe resisted using the term “Netflix and Chill.”
“Thanks, mate. I’ll have to check it out.” Arjun held up his phone. “I have to go meet my boyfriend. See you around.”
Arjun left. Rafe tapped his fingers on his desk. He wished his gaydar came with singledar.
* * *
On his fifth day in a new land, Rafe called his parents to check in. He gave them the rundown of his classes and dorm. He told them about going to pubs with his new friends and made sure to point out that this was a normal part of British social life, like happy hour.
“Rafe, we’re glad you’re having a good time, but we’re a little concerned,” his dad said. “You’ve been going through your money at a fast clip. I see on your credit card all these charges to a campus café.”
“Oh.” He sat down on a bench just outside the café, feeling extra busted. Since his dad paid his credit card bills, he had access to Rafe’s account, which Rafe never had a problem with until now, when he had something to hide.
“That’s a lot of eating out. With the exchange rate, that’s almost forty dollars a day.”
“Is there a reason you’re not eating at the dining hall?” his mom asked.
Shit. Rafe was not one to lie to his parents, but he couldn’t deal with admitting a massive screw-up with his study abroad trip. He didn’t need to hear his dad do one of his audible exhales and get this pinched tone in his voice.
“I am eating in the dining hall. But my friends and I have also been eating out. We’re into snacks. I didn’t think about the exchange rate.” He really hadn’t, and he felt a wave of embarrassment come over him for being so careless. “I’ll be more mindful in the future.”
“Is everything okay there?” his mom asked in her soothing voice, the voice that made everything better when he was a child. “Are you having some fun culture shock moments?”
“Kind of.”
“Has anyone been mean to you?” His dad got very serious. “Have you been harassed?”
“No.” Rafe looked up at the kids walking past him, all in their friend groups. They’d had years to get to know each other. They had history.
“It hasn’t even been a week,” his dad said. “You’re still adjusting. This is only just the start.”
“I hope so.”
“Just try to be more careful with the eating out.”
EAMONN
When he was done with classes for the day, Eamonn strolled over to the campus café for some afternoon tea. He spotted Rafe at a table in the window with his laptop open. Seeing Rafe made his spirits brighten. There was something buoyant about him that drew in Eamonn, like he was the hook of a pop song come to life.
“Hello, stranger.” He knocked on his table. “How was the first week of classes?”
“Interesting.”
Eamonn’s back straightened up, as it usually did whenever he sen
sed trouble for his friends. “Did someone say something to you?”
“A kid in my physics class said that Americans like me are ruining the planet. I told him everyone in my family drives a Prius. It’s fine. My country kind of deserves it.” Rafe picked apart pieces of his blueberry muffin and plopped them into his mouth one by one. “I forgot to thank you for the tea biscuits. They really hit the spot that morning.”
“Of course. Had you ever had them before?”
“No. I loved them!” Rafe went back to looking at his computer screen. His smile dropped.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You sure? What about if I asked you like this, dude?” Eamonn asked in his best California surfer accent.
“You see this muffin?” Rafe pointed at the remaining pieces on his plate. “This is my dinner. And it will be my dinner for this entire semester.”
“That’s a pretty dodgy diet.”
“I don’t have enough money to eat food for the semester. I thought there was a meal plan, but there’s not.”
“Well, there’s a grocery store one town over.”
“I looked it up. It’s expensive. If I put sizable weekly grocery charges on my card, they’ll see and they’ll know I fucked up, and then I’ll get another lecture.”
“From who?”
“My parents. They can see what I spend.”
Eamonn couldn’t wrap his head around that. His mum had never intruded on his financial situation and combed through his expenses, although that was because hers wasn’t that much better. Was this 1984? Big Brother was watching Rafe’s bank account?
Rafe shut his computer and dragged his hands through his hair. “I can’t believe I let this happen. Maybe I should’ve let my parents help me plan this trip.”
“That’s bollocks. Sandra fucking bollocks. When life kicks you in the balls, you don’t run back to Mum and Dad.” A brilliant idea came to Eamonn, and he rubbed his hands together. “Asda.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“You need cheap food. Asda has it.”