Namid

Namid

I find myself waiting anxiously each time I have to wait for the two weeks to pass before I get to see Jayce again. I want to be around him. I want to try to make him smile. I want to be there to catch the brief glimpses of the man I imagine he once was during the fleeting moments he forgets that he's shattered. I want to feel the rush of warmth that runs through my veins and makes my skin tingle when his expressive jade eyes look at me as if he's searching for the meaning of life. I've never felt anything like this before. This sense of contentment and wonder and joy. The lightness that settles over me when he's around is so strong that it almost erases the heaviness he carries. I wish I could share it with him. I wish I could wrap him in this feeling and help lift the sorrow from his chest.

I know he's not okay, and I know he doesn't feel the same way about me. I don't mean I know that in the way people always say, "Oh, he doesn't feel anything for me," because they don't believe it's possible that the person they have feelings for might like them back. I know he doesn't because I feel everything he feels. Once in a while, when we're talking or walking in the park, it feels like his pain lightens a bit, but there is nothing that joins it. There is no rush of attraction or sense of overwhelming delight when he sees me. He doesn't feel the way I'm starting to, and even though I know it means this will end in heartbreak for me, I don't really care. One day, I'm sure I'll look back and shake my head and tell myself I was stupid, but right now, I want to feel this way. I want to feel accepted. I want to nervously look forward to seeing him even though I just left his shop. I want to feel my heart rush when he steps into the room and my breath catch when his shoulder brushes mine as we stroll side by side. I want the knot that's slowly forming in my stomach. I'm not in love with him, but I think I could be one day, and I want to know what it's like to fall in love, even if that love isn't returned.

"You still okay working with Jayce, kid?"

Ken's voice snaps me back to reality with a jolt.

Ken and I are eating chicken parmesan, like we do every Thursday night, and I nearly choke when he asks about Jayce out of the blue. I talk about Jayce from time to time, of course. Ken and I talk about most things. I haven't told him about Jordyn's savings account; that's not my information to share, but I've told him that his accounts are all in order, and while there isn't much for me to do, Jayce asked me to come every other week to help him stay on top of things. I've told him that I've never encountered sorrow as intense as the waves that still threaten to pull Jayce under, but that even through that, he's kind to me. I've told him about the day Jayce stood up for me at his shop and asked me to get another coffee with him afterward so that people would see us together, and that it's something we've done the past two Saturdays I've gone in as well. I haven't told Ken I think I'm falling in love with him.

"Of course I am. Why?"

His kind brown eyes search my face before he speaks, and it somehow feels like my abilities must have transferred to him. Like he somehow knows what my soul is feeling.

"Just making sure. This life…it's not necessarily the one I'd choose for you, but you've always seemed happy enough here with me. I just want to make sure you still are."

I don't feel anything unusual from Ken. He feels as open and honest as he always does.

"Why wouldn't you choose this life for me?"

He sighs and grumbles something about me focusing on the wrong part of that sentence as he stabs his chicken with his fork, but that's just how he is, and I know he'll answer.

"You're alone here, Namid. I know that other people overwhelm you, and I know that you like being alone, but still, sometimes I wish you had…more."

"I'm not always alone. I have you."

"I know that, and you know I love you. But…well…we don't know how old you are, but you're not a teenager anymore; you weren't even when I found you. I'm an old man, and I just…I want you to be happy always, not just now. There aren't any other gay men here and… "

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He really can tell what I'm feeling!

I cut him off. "How did you asking if I'm happy working with Jayce turn into a conversation about my lack of dates?"

"By accident." Ken rubs the back of his neck, looking a bit surprised this is where we've ended up. Maybe he really just feels bad that I'm alone.

"You've just never worked for anyone other than me, and you don't have any friends to speak of, and I guess I just…I hope working for Jayce is good for you. I guess I hope maybe you've found a friend."

I have no words for that. I've never thought about how I must seem to the man who's become my father. How my differences must seem to set me apart in a way that hurts him. How many times has he wondered if I'm lonely the way young parents wonder if their kids will find someone to play with at recess on their first day of school?

I stand and pull him up into my arms, crushing him in a hug so tight that I worry that he might break.

He lets me hug him until I don't need to anymore and then grumbles about his chicken getting cold as he settles back in at the table.

"Jayce and I get along well, Ken. He might even be my friend."

"Was that so hard?" He snorts, and I can't help the laughter that bubbles out of me.