My "Straight" Neighbor

Days have passed since the blow up.

Excruciatingly long days that forced everyone apart. Denver barely spent time at home, which was a nice change at least— he spent basically all of his time with me. But I longed for my relationships with the girls, they were my friends— people I grew to love.

Emily still wasn’t ready to talk, but I’d go and see Leah at work; and Roman was the middle man that spent time with either his best friend or his girlfriend. Everything was disbanded, everything sucked… except Denver and I.

If anything, our relationship was flourishing.

There hadn’t been more dates, no. But we’d walk to the pool together, hand in hand with no care in the world; grocery shop at Safeway without a second thought. I didn’t care that I was feeding him most nights, didn’t care that I spent all of my time with him; I just wish it could be with everyone else too.

But that following weekend my mom and dad wanted me over for dinner. They said I “moved out and became a ghost”, which isn’t un-true I suppose. So much has been happening the last month or so that I haven’t given my parents much thought at all. But when they invited me, I was cooking dinner for Denver; and I thought about what he would say— what he would do.

I wasn’t going to take my parents' lives for granted.

So I agreed, and on Saturday afternoon I pulled into my old neighborhood; followed the broken roads towards the bend in the road and parked where I used to— right under that big oak tree.

This was home for a long time, this two story colonial house. So I walked through the mowed yard, up the porch that I’d spend countless hours on at sunset; and opened the door. “I’m home!” I exclaimed when I walked through.

“Is that Max?” I heard my mom pipe from the kitchen, already filling the house with the scent of roasted tomatoes.

My dad rounded the corner of the kitchen, “How’ve you been, bud!” And he wrapped me in a hug, quickly broken apart by my mother.

“Oh sweetie!” She hugged me too, “I’m making your favorite!” Her eyes were still that warm brown, that same apron clinging to her figure as she ran back to the stove.

You could imagine how excited they were when I told them that I was moving back. They were over the moon happy about it, thrilled to let me live rent free in their house; sleep rent free in my childhood bedroom. Yet I longed to be an adult again, to be on my own again.

I joined her in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge; “Do you guys only drink iced tea?” I stared at the cases of Lipton and Arizona tea inside.

“Want whiskey?” My dad chimed in as he reprised his regular role at the end of our dining room table, lowering his glasses and focusing on whatever was on his laptop.

I chuckled, “No, I’m okay.” Instead I grabbed a glass and filled it with water, “Grilled cheese?” I asked over my moms shoulder as she tended to a pot of boiling sauce.

“Still your favorite, right?” She took a glance at me with that heartwarming smile, that mothers smile.

I nodded, “Always.” I admitted, it was my favorite; always has been— but only how she makes it. She used to scour stores for multiple cheeses and make tomato soup from scratch— literally nothing can beat it.

She knocked her spoon on the edge of the pot a few times, “So how’s the apartment?” She asked as she knuckled a taste of the sauce.

“It’s good.” I kept it simple, kept it classy as I took a seat at the table with my dad.

“And work?” He asked me through his glasses.

I nodded again, “Good. I’m hitting my metrics and meeting my deadlines.” And he nodded too, returning to his computer game of solitaire.

“Any new friends?” My mom added and I knew she would eventually.

I took a swig of water, “Yeah actually…” I started, “And a boy.”

I figured Denver would be easier to talk about than Mystery Inc’s current situation, and yes he told me I could. It’s not like my parents will tell the world; they’ve never been like that. Hell, they don’t even know his last name.

“What’s his name?” My mom beamed at me while opening a new loaf of sourdough.

I smiled, “Denver.” And I couldn’t help the feeling that washed over me, saying his name to them; like he was mine. Well he was, he is— he’s mine.

She cooed, “What does he do? Tell me everything.”

And I did— for the most part.

I left out the fact that he isn’t out himself, left out our arguments and drunken nights. But the parts I shared made him sound perfect, sound lovely— and that he was, at least to me.

“Well when can we meet the kid?” My dad chimed in, right as I was telling them about the Smithsonian’s in DC.

My lips parted, “Soon.” I said, not knowing what else to say. “We aren’t even together yet.” And when those words left my lips, a sour taste was left behind. We weren’t together yet, but I talked about him like I loved him; because I did. 

“Okay okay.” He held his hands up, “It just sounds like you really like the boy.” He was right, I sure did.

“Speaking of…” my mom spoke up, “You’ll never guess who we ran into yesterday.” She gave me a knowing look that I returned right to my dad.

I shook my head, “Who?”

His brows raised but he only focused on his screen, “Victor from next door, can you believe?” She talked to the cabinets as she focused on slicing the bread with a giant knife, luckily not noticing the smug irritation that smacked my face.

It’s odd that I just dreamt of him, just a few days ago. After all these years; “How’s Hanna?” I asked, slouching in my chair with an eye roll.

“Not in the picture anymore…” she started, which perked my attention; “His ring was gone so I asked about it and he said that they broke things off a year ago.” My eyes widened, Victor and Hanna weren’t together?

A soft smile took to my face, “Well, good for him I guess.” And I thought about just how happy that news made me. I guess what goes around, really does come around– karma is a bitch.

My mom must’ve noticed, “Oh, don’t be like that Max.” She threw a crumb of bread at me, “Hanna was a nice girl, whatever happened between you two?”

I tensed, “Nothing.” I lied, but that was my reaction anytime they asked about her– my old best friend.

And fortunately, I was gifted in the art of distraction; so I turned the conversation back to my date with Denver and continued telling them about us as my mom finished up dinner.

And man, it was fucking good. Maybe delinquent, maybe childish– but grilled cheese and tomato soup is exactly what I needed. A meal sat down with my parents again, laughing and talking like we used to. Being an only child, I’ve always had a closeness with them; sometimes an overbearing closeness that eventually drifted me away.

But I always came back… after college… now.

And when we wrapped dinner and took care of the mess, washed dishes and cleaned the stove; I was prepared to leave. I didn’t have plans per se, but I already missed Denver; already craved being next to him. But something drew me upstairs…

Maybe it was the dream from a few days ago, maybe it was the mention of his name; but I climbed the stairs and entered my old room– spacious now that my things were gone. Just a queen sized bed and an old bureau were left, then piles and piles of boxes and junk.

My fingers slid across the angled ceiling, how did I ever fit in here before?

I flopped into my old bed, a layer of dust filling the air in my wake. I embraced it, watched the tiny particles gleam in the evening sun that came through the window. A steady stream of light at this hour, pouring through the paint-chipped window.

It was instinct, the way I sat up and sauntered over; the way I leaned my arm on the blinds and focused on that yard next door. The trampoline was gone, the tire swing was gone; just thick heavy grass.

And then I saw him– Victor, walking from the back deck; a phone to his ear.

My heartbeat quickened, my thoughts jumbled as I inspected every inch of change in him. His shoulders broadened more, his hair was shorter; but those clothes he had on didn’t change. The casual sweatpants and tank-top style was still his.

I don’t know what came over me, what urged me to walk my way outside– but I did.

I slid out of the back sliding door, descended the cracked wooden deck to the grass and saw him just beyond the chain link fence; covered by overgrown weeds and bushes.

Silent, I was silent walking towards the fence; keeping my eye on his back that was facing me. “Hey stranger.” I spoke loudly enough to garner his attention.

And his big brown eyes lit up, those stocky brows raised as he said something to end his phone call and slid his cell into his pocket; “Harrison?” He questioned with a smile.

“In the flesh.” I raised my arms out, meeting him on opposite sides of the fence, “Long time no see.”

He shook his head, flashed those bright teeth against his dark skin; “How have you been, man?”

I shrugged, “Pretty good and you?”

“Pretty… okay.” He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I nodded too, “Visiting?”

He laughed under his breath, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced at his house; “Sorta…” he looked back to me, “Indefinitely, for the moment.”

“Trouble in paradise?” I teased him, a wicked smile on my lips.

His lips turned up too, until it faded and I saw something else; “You could say that.” He nodded slowly, “Crashing here too?” He motioned his head at my house, brows raised in question.

But I shook my head, “No, just here for dinner.” I smiled– but I searched every part of him, scanned every movement of his body.

He was just nodding, subconsciously I’d assume; before drifting his eyes towards his yard, “Did you uhm…” he started, looking back at me with a thumb pointed behind him; “Wanna have a beer?”

It transported me back to being a teenager, being overjoyed anytime he asked me to hang out.

I nodded my head, “Sure.” And I didn’t think twice before hopping the fence like we used to do.

He chuckled, “Some things never change, I see.”

“Tell that to your shoes.” I teased him again once I noticed those beat-up air-forces on his feet.

He looked down as we walked, laughing to himself and shaking his head; “I’m surprised they still fit.” He said, then looked into my eyes; “Give me a sec, I’ll be right back.”

And he ran up the deck stairs, ducking inside to grab us some drinks as I took a seat on the steps. I overlooked his yard, the yard I spent so much time in over the years.

His steps rumbled as he hopped down, “Here.” He handed me a corona and took a seat next to me, twisted his bottle cap and took a swig– I did the same.

“So.” We both said at the same time, us both nervously chuckling.

I let him speak first, “How was Arizona?” He asked me, taking another gulp of beer.

I smiled and nodded my head, “It was good. Fun.” I side eyed him, staring down into the tan liquid; “How was New York?” I asked him, trying my best to suppress the memory of when he told me.

He swirled his bottle, “Good for a while.” He breathed another chuckle, “I’m guessing you know about Hanna and I?” He took a small glance at me.

I took a deep breath, followed by a large gulp of this piss poor beer; “You know my mom,” I smirked in his direction, “Can’t keep a secret for shit.” And he laughed through his shoulders, tapping his fingers along the bottle; “Are you okay?” I asked him.

He just nodded, taking another sip; “I am.” He straightened his posture, “We just weren’t meant for each other.” He sounded awfully like he was still trying to convince himself.

I mean, it’s not like I didn’t warn him.

But as a silence fell over us, as a brisk wind flowed through the leaves above us; sang a song with the wind chimes– “You can say it.” He stared forward, not meeting my eyes.

“Say what?” I shook my head.

And then he looked at me, “I told you so.” He looked back to the ground, took another sip of his beer.

“I’m not going to say that.” I shook my head, though it may have felt nice to; I wouldn’t– not now. It’s been years, there’s no use in being right now.

He chuckled again, “You know Max…” still staring at the ground, “I am sorry, for everything.” He admitted those words that I wished he said all those years ago.

“Don’t be.” I checked him, shoulder bumped him; “That was years ago.”

And another breeze of silence washed over us as he began laughing and shaking his head, “Fuck man, are we old?” He looked at me, “Years ago…” He tapped at the bottle, “Years ago… damn.” His voice fell quiet.

Though we weren’t old, I understood what he meant. It felt like yesterday, especially now being right next to him; it’s like these past four years never happened.

I tapped at my bottle too, “Remember when we had to sneak these out of your fridge?” I referenced our underage drinking habits, “And that one time your dad caught us and you cried.” I couldn’t help myself from laughing.

He was laughing too, “Fuck you.” He shoulder bumped me too, “It’s weird, I did just sneak these from his fridge.” And we both began cackling, reminiscing about the friendship we once had.

I kept adding, “And that one time Kenzie’s dad threatened calling the cops on us because we snuck in her pool.” We both laughed.

“That was your idea.” He added between laughs, “God, I was scared of that man.” He took another swig from his beer, “We ran so fucking fast.”

I laughed even harder, “Kenzie never spoke to us again.” I added, and our conversation softened; our humor softened as the breeze grew stronger.

I could still laugh at the memories, bask in them if I had to. But what I’ll never forget, what I could never laugh at– was how it ended. How the two of us, thick as thieves; let life get in such a way– life and… her.

If anyone was to blame– it was me. I should’ve never introduced them, I should’ve known better. And among all of this, my mind drifted to Emily… and how she is in the same position that I was in just years ago.

“What’re you thinking?” He asked me, breaking my blank stare.

I shook my head, took another swig; “Nothing,” I lied, “Just thinking.”

He then nodded, raised his bottle towards me and said; “To old friends.” He cracked a smile.

I clinked the tip of my bottle with his, “To old friends.” And we both took a large gulp.

But he sighed, “I’m sorry man.” He shook his head, looking into my eyes with such emptiness; “I don’t know why we ever stopped being friends, why I let her do that to us.”

I dismissed his apology, “Don’t be sorry, Vic.” I said, “We were young, stupid… naive.” I dragged along my words, “It’s water under the bridge.”

He just nodded his head, “Okay.” He spoke softly, “You were a good friend.” He continued nodding his head, “I never did tell you that.” He looked into my eyes and I started to think of all the things I never told him.

He was a good friend too– my only friend for a while there. 

“Thank you.” I smiled back at him, “You were too.” And that was honest. Even if things between us went south, he was my best friend for a long time; helped shape me into who I am today. The confidence… the muscles… the backbone to speak my mind– that was all him, all Vic.

He nodded graciously, “So what do you do now? Did you get that vet license?” He elbowed me playfully.

I snorted, “No.” I admitted, “I never had the stomach to be a vet. Right now I’m in digital marketing, making okay money from home.” I shrugged. “You?”

He laughed and nodded, “Unemployed.” He sucked through his teeth, “College was a scam.” He shook his head and chuckled through his breath.

“If that ain’t the truth.” I clinked my bottle with his again, “To being in debt.” I toasted, to which he popped his brows and smiled– taking a swig with me.

He exhaled, “I’m actually going to an interview next week so, hopefully that will change.”

“Good luck.” I elbowed him too, cracking a smile in his direction.

We both kind of froze in that moment, our words falling silent as our eye contact broke; both of us staring at our feet and the grass beyond. Something always felt so natural between us, so naturally easy between us– I missed him.

“So you’re in town?” I asked him, “For a while?”

He nodded, downing the rest of his beer; “Home sweet Maryland.” He flashed a sarcastic smile.

“Miss New York, I take it?” I asked him, my brows clustered together.

He nodded again, “I do.” He admitted, looked down at his hand; naked and ringless.

And that’s when the gears started to turn, when my mom’s words and his actions started to conflict with each other. He’s acting as if he just got here, like his world flipped just a week ago. But my mom said they broke things off a year ago…

“My mom said you and Hanna ended things a year ago.” I stated softly, watching his head bob; “That’s not true… is it?”

Now he shook his head, “We called off the engagement three months ago.” He admitted, “But we lived together so… it’s more like we ended things a month ago.” So it was fresh, nothing I should’ve been teasing him about.

“I’m sorry Vic.” I patted his shoulder, squeezed tightly.

He dismissed my condolences, “It’s okay.” He waved a hand, “She wasn’t who I thought she was anyways.” And to that I wanted to ask, wanted to pry– but I wouldn’t.

“I think you need more than a beer.” I smiled at him,

He looked at me with a smile too, “We could get high like the old days.” He mentioned.

“We are not that old Vic.” I shoved him, but remembered those nights we would secretly smoke behind his shed and then lay flat on his trampoline; staring into the starry night– high as a fucking kite.

He chuckled, “I’m serious though. I have some medical shit if you wanna…” he popped his brows up and down, “For old times sake.”

I shook my head with a laugh, dear God I hadn’t been high in ages.

“Who’s the old one now?” He teased me back with a shove.

Isn’t it so weird how people can fall back into their old tendencies? Just by merely reconnecting, a single conversation; and you could be back to playing a dangerous game again?

I cracked a smile, “Fine.”

And so I nervously waited for him to get whatever he was getting, nervously sat on his steps like I’d done many– many times before. It still gave me a thrill, still gave me a fuzzy feeling just being near him– talking to him.

I heard his sliding door open and shut, “Okay…” he rumbled down the stairs, hopping at the end and turning to me; “I got this,” he held out a dab pen– “and this.” He revealed a bag of edible gummies.

I pointed to the edibles, figuring they’d be less potent. So he dropped a sizable gumdrop in my hand, a quarter sized lifesaver but blue and covered in sugar.

I looked up at him, “Remember when we’d get edibles from Adam Lawson?” I asked him, thinking about how much different a homemade edible looked.

“Yeah and they always tasted like dish soap.” He smiled as he dug for his own inside the bag. “Did you know he has two kids now?” He added once he zipped the bag.

I nodded, “Poor Chelsea.” I then shook my head, that poor girl fell in love with the wrong guy; had children with a crackhead.

“To Adam Lawson!” He held out his edible to mine.

I bumped mine into his, “And to all of his failed drug tests!” And we popped the edibles in our mouths.

I had to be quick, regardless of the sugary and very candy-like exterior– it tasted like weed. And that was never my favorite taste.

But as I struggled to swallow it, I watched Vic wander into his yard and stop where his trampoline used to me. He sat down, fell to his back and just stared into the sky. I smiled at him, and joined him in the grass.

If you could be transported to another time in your life, what would it be? Where would it be?

Maybe it’s because we’re next to each other, or maybe because the view of the sky hasn’t changed from this spot. But I’d travel back here, back to being on that trampoline with him. We were so young, so clueless. And I used to keep everything bottled inside, never spoke them aloud; especially not to him.

If I had a do-over, that’s what I’d change. I’d spill what was on my mind, I’d tell him the truth of how I felt.

But those days were over.

Though, nothing is stopping me now; nothing is keeping me from opening my trap– nothing but his silent breath next to me and the branches swinging above us.

I took a deep breath, “Vic I…” I started to speak, but I lost my footing; lost my courage. I shook my head, “I used to have a giant crush on you.” I said it freely, for the first time aloud– ever.

“I know.” Is all he said, neither of us needed to look at each other; neither of us needed that type of intimate conversation. Right now, we were as free as the birds.

I chuckled, “You knew?” I stopped the act of surprise, didn’t care anymore about the nagging swarm of butterflies in my stomach. I am grown now– an adult.

“Max, I'm not an idiot.” And I laughed, “You may have never said it but… I knew.” He whispered the end.

A pause came between us before I asked, “If you knew then– why say nothing?”

“You were my best friend.” He stated like it was the obvious answer, “I didn’t want you to stop being my friend.” He added.

I nodded in place, focused on the branch that grew a few inches in the past few years; “That’s why I never told you.” I was honest, as honest as I could be.

He laughed, “Max, everyone knew you were gay.” But it didn’t come off as an insult, more endearing than anything. “I never cared.”

“Hanna did.” I confessed, a sudden wash of anger disrupting my view.

He sighed, “I know.” His words were laced in sorries without having to say it, “I think she was just scared of me picking you in the end.”

I started to laugh, “Vic, you aren’t gay.”

“You know what I mean.” He laughed too, “She was possessive… controlling.” I just nodded to his statements about her.

But soon I shook my head, “I can’t believe she was ever my friend.” My lips drew a thin line. And that was the truth, nothing but the God’s honest truth.

“I can’t believe she was ever my fiance.” He added a sense of humor, one that did help– even if it was minor. “I can’t believe I let her put me on a leash.”

I could hear the disdain, hear the regret behind his voice.

“I should've ran the second we got to New York.” He started again, “But I was convinced I loved her, convinced I needed her.” I let myself listen, “She always put herself first, always. Never me, never us.” I couldn’t help but think of my own situation– “Hanna played for Hanna.”

A pause breezed through us, and I waited before speaking; “We all played for Hanna.” I added, “It was easy to.” I admitted.

“I know you told me to stop but, I am so sorry man.” I shook my head as he continued, “I thought you hated me. I was blocked on everything. So even if I wanted to, it seemed like you wouldn’t accept it anyways.”

My lips pursed, “I needed to focus on me.” I tried excusing myself, “And I gave you all of senior year to acknowledge me again.”

“I am so–”

I wanted to keep talking, I needed to. “Hanna was evil with what she did.” I spat to the air, shook my head; “I trusted her, confided in her… shared my one and only secret with her.” I took a labored breath, “And she threw it in my face. Turned my best friend away from me. Took him and ran off to New York to live a happy, better life without me.”

I’d never forget that day. Not a chance I’d ever forget the smug look on her face the day I realized she shared my secret… and weaponized it.

“Do you know what that did to me, Vic?” I asked him.

His voice was almost inaudible as he whispered, “No.”

So I chuckled, shook my head; “I didn’t trust anyone.” I admitted, “I didn’t believe in anyone.” I closed my eyes, “In my head, people were only out to hurt me– and friends… they didn’t exist.” I don’t know why I started to spill everything to him, but maybe in a way I needed it.

“You know I fantasized about going to Drexel University… but Arizona was further, and that’s where I ended up. I needed a chance to do different… to do life different.” He listened as I spoke, “I was so closed off when I showed up there,” I chuckled, “I was so not me. But one day I decided to change, one day I decided that Max was important– so I did Max.” I smiled with my eyes closed, reliving my college years. “It still took me a while to come out, but when I did– I was free, so fucking free. And nobody used it against me, nobody fucking cared.”

“And when I decided to come home, I knew I had to be me. I couldn’t change again.” I thought of Denver and Emily and Roman and Leah, “I had no one here.” I shook my head, “Not a single person to call my friend but my parents.” I laughed at the embarrassment of that sentence, “But I found a new group of people recently who accepted me entirely. And I don’t know if they wonder why I got so close with them so quickly, why I placed myself within their circle– but that’s why. I didn’t have anyone else.”

I let the wind chimes go wild for a few seconds, us both still and silent.

“I met someone Vic.” I smiled, “I’m in love with him.”

And he finally broke from his silence, “You deserve it, Max.” And it wasn’t lined with irritation or inconsideration; but with care– with friendship.

“Thank you.” I finally opened my eyes and turned my head– he was already staring at me.

We both smiled, “Maybe we can be friends again?” His brows raised.

“Yeah…” I trailed, staring back out at the dimming sky; the edible starting to work its magic– “I’d like that.”

Friends… I’d really like that.

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A/N - I was hoping this chapter would bring more attention to the fact that Denver and the others aren’t the only ones with baggage and problems and shit to work through. We all have it… and we all have our reasons. I promise we’ll be back to Denver in the next one– but I do hope you enjoyed this Max-centric post. I love comments!