Fire and Rain [🗸]

15. drives to providence & a broke-down van

TODAY IS THE DAY THAT WE LEAVE for Rhode Island.

Relief doesn't quite match what I'm feeling—euphoria feels more fitting. No more passing Mom in the hallway awkwardly or trying to shrink in on myself as I try to stay afloat. There's a sense of comfort in not feeling like I'm drowning all the time.

I'm waiting outside the front steps, sneakers pressed against the pavement and arm resting on my duffle bag as I wait for Josiah to pick me up. I practically teleported out of here, primarily to avoid awkward conversations with my parents.

My mom was asking me a million questions as she followed me out:

Shouldn't you wait inside for a bit? It's fine, Mom, it's warm outside.  Didn't you want to eat a quick breakfast before you left? Josiah's bringing breakfast sandwiches. I think I'll be okay. 

Do you need a coat or anything? Llévate un suéter por si acaso!  I've got one. It's in my luggage. Don't worry. Estoy bien.

Every day in Greenport—in my home— has been one exhausting day after the other. All I've wanted since I came back is to haul my ass back out of here. I didn't waste a minute.

As I sit on the front steps, my thoughts drift to Myles. We spent the rest of the day hanging out, essentially. We just talked about shit—and not all of it was serious shit. Sometimes it was about school or work or our friends. Other times it was sexuality and feelings and family. 

Myles never really pressed me to say anything, so he was almost some sort of safe space. He didn't push, didn't press, didn't pressure me to share anything. We ended up going to a part of town with rainbow art on the walls. 

And it was funny, how even in this town, there are queer people who make art on the walls of abandoned buildings just to let other queer people know that yes, we're here too.

The second we'd returned home, Myles slipped back into his robot act, and my parents asked if I had learned anything from him. Translation: did he snap you out of the gay phase? So, I simply said, "definitely learned a ton," Vague, not a lie, a truth. 

Myles and I had exchanged phone numbers before, so now I have him saved onto my phone as an ever-present contact. "Text whenever about whatever," he'd said. And I will. 

Cutting through my thoughts, the not-quite Mystery Machine van pulls up in front of my driveway. Josiah rolls down the window as he always does, a slow grin rising onto his lips as he gives be a beckoning nod. It's his: get in here.

He doesn't have to tell me twice. I toss my stuff into the trunk before entering the van. Zahra's here already. She's in oversized clothing as per usual, and her hair is in twin braids. She shifts further into the seat to make room for me.

And of course, she looks good—Zahra Aziz has never not looked good. She's the type of person that you'd see in the airport or grocery store and think about for the rest of the day. That's just Zahra.