Thomas and Niko in the City of Trees

Chapter 19 - Part 1

I really hate being hungover at work. Trust me, I'll avoid it at almost any cost. And yet here I am, propped against the edge of the serving window in a beat-up pair of sunglasses, sipping water, doing all I can to fight off these waves of nausea...so I guess that's just some bullshit life throws at you from time to time.

We slept all night by the water. The mosquitoes never came—a miracle by any measure, if you ask me. My neck and left shoulder are killing me, due to the six hours of drunken slumber spent on my side. The whole reason I stayed on my side was, it got cold after the first hour or two, so I kept an arm around him just as he kept one around me. That's about the only reason we didn't freeze our asses off.

Let me be honest with you for just a second: Last night sort of felt like an ending. From the curious chain of events that transpired to the crazy vibe of that entire pitch-black scene—all of it held this air of finality in my mind, especially upon reflection during my long walk to work. An ending to what, exactly, I don't fucking know. That's what I'm trying to figure out during my shift, which slows down so much by late-morning that I'm tempted to close up early, go home and sleep the whole thing off. Man, Marlon would just kill me if I did that. Maybe it's the hangover, but I'm feeling a little feverish, and the window unit seems to be having trouble keeping up with the heat outside. I lie down flat on the concrete floor, listening carefully in case any rogue vehicle happens to pull up to the window.

After a few minutes of studying the cobwebs that span the wood beams of the ceiling, I fish my phone from my pocket. There's a fresh text from Thomas that says, "I can't believe you stayed with me all night."

"You would've frozen to death if I didn't."

"Doubt it."

"What's up?"

"I want to know if you're okay after what we did."

"I'm fine."

"Did I hurt you too much?"

"I would've said so if you did."

"Okay. So you're good?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He takes a long time typing his reply, which finally shows up as the following: "It's just that I would understand if you didn't want to do that anymore, seeing as I want to stay just friends. I know I can't have it all."

I think on it a minute. "I could've said no."

"Could you though?" He follows it up with a winking face.

"Shut the fuck up."

"We're good then?"

"We're good," I reply.

You want to know the truth, Thomas Chu? We're better than we've ever been. Last night, you were clear with me, open and honest, and whether or not I agree with you is beside the point. You'll get nothing but respect from me, for boldly knowing what it is you're after. You'll always have my respect, Thomas, no matter what becomes of us. I got a strange feeling back when we first started on our walk. I sensed that, for better or worse, a confirmation would soon arrive. And now, with a clearer mind, I realize what it was that came to an end last night: a hope that I'd be calling you mine in this new life I'll soon embark on. No boasting to newfound allies of my handsome, all-American football-star boyfriend just south of the border. No discovering the thrill and the agony of saving ourselves, our bodies, for some future moment in time when we could be alone together again.

Look, I know the image is overplayed, but I start thinking back on all that quiet hoping like a little flame that got weaker and weaker before suddenly going out. No quick hiss, not even a pencil-thin trail of smoke—just dark, silent and still.