I follow Uncle Paul through the arrivals of Anchorage Airport. We reach the exit door, he props the door open with his forearm and nods towards his truck.
"It's a long drive, do you want to grab something to eat?"
"I don't have any money." I'm fucking starving, a small portion of airplane food didn't do much to my empty stomach. It's been a while since I ate anything and I'm skin and bones at this point. There were times when I could afford to eat plenty. I would get a good bartending job at a prestigious gay bar or club. In order to get more tips I would keep my body in shape at the outdoor workout spots I frequently visited. Every night thirsty men would make the biggest line at my side of the bar, and the cash would come easy. And when they were thirsty for more than my cocktails I would use them for whatever else they could give me.
But lately, with all the shit that's been happening, food was a luxury. Jobs were hard to hold on to. And all those rich guys that wanted to fuck me before wouldn't even come close to me when they'd see my drained face and pale-looking skin with the dark circles under my eyes.
"Noah..."
He needs to stop saying my name like that, like he pities me. I ignore him and start walking away but a giant hand stops me, and I'm startled by the touch.
"We're family Noah. I'll buy you some lunch. And if you are too proud to accept it, well then you can take me for lunch next time, alright? I told you I might have a job for you. Pay me back when you get your salary if that's what you are comfortable with. Just please let me feed you now?" His gaze is steady on me. "How about some all-day breakfast with lots of hash browns? Still like those?"
Uncle Paul's voice is soft as he mentions my favourite breakfast food when I was eight–hash browns. I don't tell him that I don't remember the last time I ate them. I have to fight the surge of feelings attempting to well up and burst out like a geyser that's been dormant for years. And I have to relearn all the ways people behave in the normal world where they buy each other breakfast, accept help and don't make a big deal out of it.
"Sure, Uncle Paul. Hash browns sound good."
So after inhaling two big all-day breakfasts and my uncle staring at me in amusement, or maybe concern, we are on our way to this small town called Wake Forest that is his home.
At this point, I was ready to stop with all the travel. It is about a three-and-a-half-hour drive from Anchorage to Wake Forest, and before that, two planes and fourteen-hour long flights in total. It confirmed my suspicion that uncle really came for me as soon as he heard. And that he lives at the end of the world apparently.
Once we hit the road I'm in awe. This place is huge with vast land for miles and a rocky mountain backdrop that looks almost too beautiful to be real. Then we pass the sign for Wake Forest and drive on very lonely town roads. The few houses we see as we drive are basic, functional, clad with colorful siding. He points out the downtown of Wake Forest about five miles to the east and then the lake on the opposite side. He says it's the main attraction of the area and during warmer months attracts lots of tourists, and during winter it completely freezes over and people use it as a road to cross to the other side.
It seems as if he's trying to sweet talk me into the idea of liking this place but all I know about small towns is that they are soul-destroying. People in them are small-minded and narrow in their view of the world, like crabs in a bucket, completely unwilling to see anything beyond their little world and pull anyone or anything down who tries to change that. Here I haven't seen a person in the last ten minutes, and we've been driving through town. I am not sure how much I will like that.
It is almost dark when we pull up, but the street lights illuminate Uncle's well-maintained, one-storey home with flower pots on the front steps and a wooden porch with a rocking chair and a table. A real home. One that he obviously takes pride in.
"Adel is going to be so happy to see you." My aunt. Guess they're still together. Impressive. I remember meeting her a few times back in the day. I probably look like a mess, I haven't cut my hair in a while so it's nearly impossible to tame it, and I keep pushing it back. I'm in desperate need of a shower. Even when living on the streets, we would go to a local homeless shelter to get a shower... We... It's going to take some time to get used to just me.
Suddenly, I'm inside the cosy house and Aunt Adel hugs me like she doesn't seem to mind any of my dirty clothes and possible body odor. Her eyes soften, peering at me with love and concern and tenderness I wish I could fully reciprocate. I toy with the sleeve of my hoodie, asking myself if this is real?
"I think we should go to sleep. I have work in the morning." My uncle works for a fishing company. He started as a captain on a fishing boat when he came back from the navy, but now is operations manager and mostly works from an office. I agree with his suggestion, as jet lag has thrown both of us for a loop.
"You'll be staying at the apartment upstairs. Well, it's a room with an en suite bathroom. But there is a back entrance to it so you can use it without coming through the house."
Aunt Adel leads me through their home, quickly pointing out where everything is, then we walk up the stairs that are just outside of the back door of the house. She unlocks the door and guides me into the room.
"We used to rent this place for seasonal workers, rangers, hunters or tourists." She adds. Another wave of trepidation sweeps over me as I look around the space.
It is small but with big windows that have thick black-out curtains. She opens the curtains, tying them at the side with a string. "You won't be needing these for the winter. We barely get any sunlight around here. Well, we are still better than the north of the state. They don't see the sun for sixty-seven days come winter."
My eyes are wide open when I hear that, I'm sure I look like a cartoon character. I never gave much thought about how far north we actually are and what that means for simple things like the duration of the daylight. "So when do you need the blackout blinds?"
"In summer. It is still very bright when it's time to go to sleep. Oh, that reminds me, I need to give you some vitamin D tablets." I look at her confused again. She chuckles. "We have to take it because we are not making enough vitamin D from sunlight."
"Ok," I say dumbly. This world is definitely weirder than I imagined.
I'm still awkwardly standing in the middle of this new space unsure of what to do with myself. There is a single bed with a nightstand next to it and a chest of drawers opposite with a small TV on top. The walls are covered with photographs and artwork–pictures of mountains and fishermen on lakes and snow-covered tree tops, some faded like they've been here for years, others new and bright. She notices me looking with interest.
"Some of our talented lodgers leave the photographs before they leave. I quite like them."
"Yeah, they're nice."
"Do you still like to draw?" She asks and something shifts in my stomach. The same thing happened when my uncle bought me hash browns. How does she remember?
"I... no. Well, I haven't done it in a long time." Except for some of the tattoos I drew for me and my friends.
"I remember when we visited Patrick and Chloe, you would always have your head stuck in a notepad just drawing and coloring. You were pretty good at it."
"My high school had a few of my paintings up in the main hall," I admit shyly. "But erm... school soon became a problem for me," I say vaguely.
"You might find your inspiration here. You never know." Her wise smile warms me as she hands me a stack of clean, soft-looking towels and I'm glad she doesn't ask about what happened in high school.
Before leaving, Aunt promises to take me to town the next day, to get a haircut, and buy some essentials like a phone, toiletries and warm clothes for the cold winter that is just around the corner. It feels pretty fucking cold now if you ask me, and it's only the end of September.
As I lay my head on a pillow after a long hot shower, I'm instantly drifting into sleep. Even though there is still an echo of hurt and a shadow of harsh truth–and there always will be, I still smile into the pillow.
The spark of happiness ignites somewhere inside me.
________
YOU ARE READING
Midnight sun
Romance[ boyxboy ] Noah Summerville is broken when his long forgotten uncle comes to his rescue and takes him to a small town of Alaska in a search of a new life. Then he sees Dylan McKenna with his man bun, thick thighs and intense stare. There is somethi...
