11
Nick blinked. He was feeling good. Really, really good. He was curled up in a chair in Dex and Izzy’s living room with a beer, watching them going back and forth on whether or not Dex was being too hard on his brother. At some point, Jonny had come back and joined them, all three housemates scrunched up next to each other on the couch.
“I’m not saying he’s a total pain in the arse,” Dex was saying. “Just that he is currently a pain in my arse.”
“He’s having trouble adjusting, Dexter,” Izzy countered. She wasn’t entirely sober, so adjusting came out sounding slurred. It was pretty cute. Nick took another sip, then told himself to chill out with that. He was riding a good sort of buzz he didn’t want to tip over into messy drunk territory. He had to watch it.
Jonny was currently eyeballing his housemates with typical Jonny-like amusement. He seemed to be doing a bit better, Nick thought. Nick was glad he was back, anyway. He wanted to catch him at some point to apologize for real, but he couldn’t decide if it would just make all the crap float back up to the surface. He was chewing the thought over when Izzy called out his name.
“Hmmm?”
Izzy giggled. “You’re all dreamy over there. I was saying, don’t you think Dex is being unfair with Al? He’s just having a difficult time, and this one here believes that if he doesn’t talk about his shit, he won’t get his problems solved. But, like. Al’s a bloody fourteen-year-old.”
Nick took a moment to come up with a careful response. He still had difficulty navigating what people expected him to say and what was the best thing to say and would he stick his foot in his mouth if he opened it? Probably was always a safe bet. “What is he adjusting to?”
Dex opened his mouth, but Izzy was already on it. “Dex’s parents just moved to a posh new place where it’s basically all white people, and poor Al is basically all moody and mute teenager coz he’s one of, like, three people like him in the whole school.” She paused. “Do I have that right?”
Dex rolled his eyes and nodded. He addressed the next bit to Nick. “Essentially. The problem for me is that I can’t help him if he doesn’t fucking talk to me. He used to talk to me all the time. I couldn’t get him to shut up.”
Nick nodded. His beer was sitting heavily in his belly, thrumming through his veins. He’d forgotten to eat, and his tongue had loosened. “That’s hard. Adjusting to a new school can be hard.”
“Oh shit. I’m such an idiot. Of course you’d know.”
“I mean, everyone starts a new school at some point, don’t they?”
“Well, yeah, but like … You had it extra special, I guess?”
“Still does,” Jonny piped up. Everyone turned to look at him. “He’s in a different country again, Iz. Duh.”
Nick gave him a smile. He couldn’t begin to describe how different this was to ten years ago.
“Well, he’s all right now, isn’t he?” Izzy said. “Right, Nick?”
He nodded, then caught Dex’s watchful gaze. A jolt shot through his belly. It wasn’t nerves, but it felt like nerves. A fluttering hot wave, there and gone. “Yeah. It’s better.”
“What was it like, then?” Dex asked. He had this way of talking that felt like he was whispering directly into Nick’s ear—something Nick really, really wished he had never experienced, because it still made his toes curl to remember. He’d been barely aware of it at the time, but the sense memory had stayed.
“What was what like?” he asked.
“You know…” Dex waved his Corona-holding arm in an expansive sort of gesture. “Adjusting to an American school, new country, all that.”
He never knew how to answer this question, because the option of answering honestly seemed nonexistent. Nobody wanted to hear that shit. He gave his usual. “It sucked, I guess. But it got better.”
Dex narrowed his eyes at him. Izzy said, “Well, that’s detailed.” Then smiled, as if to cover up the remark. “So, what helped? Looking for advice, here, you understand. Since Dex won’t ask.”
Nick’s family had been his salvation. He would sit in his last period, look out the window, and watch the school buses line up one by one with a sort of desperation that felt like grasping onto a lifeline. He would picture the front door of their apartment, his mom and Zoyka already waiting on the other side of it. A place where he could speak and be understood. A place where he didn’t feel ridiculous just for existing. “I guess my situation was different.” He paused. “We were all of us in it together. Does that make sense?” An island of four plopped down in the middle of a sea of hostile forces. “But my sister helped the most. We stuck together.”
He’d never actually said that much to anyone, before. He and Zoyka had been pretty close growing up, even with him being the annoying little brother. But it wasn’t until they had no one else that they became Kol’ka i Zoyka, a two-headed unit. Their first place in the States, they’d shared a bedroom and had bunk beds. Nick had the top bunk, and late at night, after their parents had already gone to bed, they’d talk in the dark. Zoyka would extend her hand against the wall, and he would grab it. Another lifeline.
“Hmmm.” Izzy made a meaningful face at Dex, who tugged at her until she was curled up with one arm wrapped up around his middle. Jonny twisted until his feet were planted under her butt. Talk about a multiheaded unit. Nick had never had that kind of physical closeness with anyone, not even Lena. And the idea of draping himself over Dex’s body like a blanket seemed laughable. He had barely held himself together when Dex touched his hand.
“Look, I get it. It’s just hard to do when I’m here. And he’s there. And Mum and Dad work so much. I just can’t be that much help through a phone, you know?”
“Just check in with him,” Nick said before he could stop himself. “And listen, if he talks. Don’t offer advice. Just listen, you know?”
His palms felt on fire for no good reason at all, but his reward was Dex giving him a smile—a small but still blinding sort of smile that dimpled his cheeks—and saying, “Cheers, mate. I’m gonna try.”
Nick smiled shyly back and took another sip of his drink.
The familiar buzzing of a phone broke the silence, and Jonny extricated his phone from under his butt. His frown turned to a hint of a smile, all warmth and light.
“What’s up?” Izzy asked.
Jonny looked up and shook his head, quickly slipping his phone back. “Nothing, just a text.”
Nick could tell Izzy was on the verge of prying, but stopped herself.
+
Nick woke up with a hammering heart to a completely unfamiliar scene. He was … well, he was in a room. He knew he was in a room, but whose room? Bits and pieces of the night before began slotting into his foggy brain. Izzy falling asleep on top of Dex. Nick swaying on his feet as he tried and failed to put on his shoes. Jonny putting a warm hand on his arm to steady him and saying, Mate, why don’t you just stay here? Nick being led up the stairs, still drunkenly protesting that it was too much of an imposition. Nick being gently deposited onto a bed—whose bed, he had no idea—then. Well, then he probably passed out.
He screwed his eyes shut, then opened them again. Something was digging into his hip, and a cursory pat of his hand revealed it to be the phone in his pocket. He moved his legs. Yep, still wearing jeans. He shifted, and his body groaned in response. Great. He hadn’t meant to drink that much, but Jonny had kept them well supplied until the wee hours of the morning. Nick was pretty sure he remembered Jonny pouring wine. A lot of wine.
He sat up and winced. Okay, so not too bad. Just a bit of a pounding in his left temple. Probably nothing a glass of water or two couldn’t fix. Then he looked around himself. The small room was pretty sparse, furniture-wise. A dresser on the left, a desk to the right of it. The bed was big, though, and soft, covered in so many pillows Nick was surprised he hadn’t suffocated in the night. Giant swaths of gauzy purple fabric hung across the ceiling with Christmas lights lining the edges. It all looked very dreamy.
He grabbed his glasses, ecstatic to discover them on the nightstand, and squinted at a poster over the desk. PJ Harvey. Then his gaze caught on a few small pictures tacked to the wall next to the bed, and he looked closer. Natali and Izzy. Natali, Izzy, Dex, and Jonny. Natali and a girl Nick had never met before. Possibly a girlfriend. Natali and an older woman who looked just like her, wearing a sari.
Looked like Nick had been deposited in Natali’s room.
God, what time was it? His phone was almost dead at 5 percent, but it did manage to tell him it was ten-fifteen in the morning and that he had an email from his mom and a series of texts from Zoyka waiting for him. He shoved it back into his pocket and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. It really was a very nice room, and he wouldn’t have minded sleeping there a little longer, but he had a monumental need to pee and an even bigger need to sneak out before anybody noticed.
Jesus, how much of an idiot had he made of himself last night? He couldn’t remember. He took his glasses off to rub at his eyes. Fuck. Fuck.
He grabbed his shoes from the floor and slowly opened the door, waiting for it to creak. When it didn’t, he did a tiny fist pump and closed it just as quietly behind him. The staircase was brighter than the room had been. He strained to listen and heard quiet voices downstairs. Crap. He would have to be really quiet.
One step, two, three, until he was down to the last stair, which creaked, because he was living out a farce. He winced. The smell of coffee wafted up the stairs.
“Oh, I think he’s up!”
Jonny. Nick slapped his forehead and very seriously considered running out even now, but then Dex’s voice behind him followed up with, “Oh, hey, morning, Nick—want some coffee?” and he turned around.
Dex’s head was the only thing Nick could see over the doorway. He was smiling, and one purple dread stood up in excitement over his head. Nick braced himself on the bannister with one hand, realizing that he was clutching his shoes to his chest with the other. He had never done a walk of shame before, but this was possibly close to what it might feel like.
“You all right?” Dex asked. He stepped out of the kitchen, and Nick’s throat went a little dry at the trying view of Dex shirtless, wearing only low-slung basketball shorts. That was a lot of skin. A lot of smooth, dark skin over muscle.
He opened his mouth. “I really have to pee.” Fuck.
Dex pushed his tongue under his lower lip, clearly trying to stifle a laugh while Nick just stood there, trying not to die. “Well, go for it, man, don’t let me stop you.”
Nick’s feet finally moved, and he darted behind Dex to the bathroom. He definitely avoided catching his reflection in the mirror as he washed his hands.
When he finally emerged, Dex had gone back to the kitchen, and Nick had very little choice but to follow. Both stools were occupied, but as soon as Nick took two steps inside, Dex jumped up and wordlessly indicated for Nick to sit down. Nick shook his head. His nod to dignity in the bathroom had been to put his shoes back on, but now he had nothing to hide behind. He was probably making too big a deal out of this. He usually did. It still didn’t feel too great.
“How are you, mate?” Jonny asked cheerfully while Dex danced around the stool in Nick’s peripheral vision. Great, now his awkwardness was spreading.
“All right. Fine.”
“Yeah? Sleep well?” Jonny took a loud slurp of his coffee. He was clearly amused at Nick’s discomfort, but it was Jonny, so it wasn’t mean. Nick felt some tension unwind in his shoulders, in his belly.
“Yeah. Natali’s got a nice bed.”
Dex said, “Yeah, it’ll be our little secret.” Nick saw that Dex had already sat back on the stool. Good. He realized he was smiling. No idea why, but maybe just because Dex looked so comfortable and nice, first thing in the morning. Nick was doing his best not to look below his neck, but it wasn’t exactly easy, ignoring the tight curls of his chest hair and treasure trail dipping below his shorts.
“Would she mind? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“You didn’t, man, it was our idea,” Jonny cut him off. “Anyway, not like it’s the first time this has happened, and Nat’s cool.” He paused. “Mostly.”
“Anyway, relax, have some coffee,” Dex offered, and Nick, raised by a rather militantly polite mother, had no choice but to accept his kind offer. He felt their eyes on him as he stumbled around, figuring out where the milk and sugar lived, doing his best not to overturn the French press. Would there ever be a time where he didn’t consistently feel like an awkward mess?
He stood at the counter and drank his admittedly delicious coffee, listening to Dex and Jonny chatting companionably until Dex’s phone buzzed on the table.
He grabbed it, fingered it open, and without a word he extended it toward them both. Curious, Nick leaned in.
Mum’s driving me bonkers again tell her I’m fine
“Well, that’s reassuring,” Jonny noted, one eyebrow up.
Nick gave Dex a sympathetic look. “At least he’s talking to you?”
“There’s that,” Dex agreed, looking down at his phone again. “All right, what the fuck do I say to that that isn’t ‘Clearly you’re not, so stop being a git’?”
“‘Get your fourteen-year-old head out of your arse’?” Jonny suggested, then swiftly moved out of the way of Dex’s slapping hand. “‘Tell your mum yourself, since you’re occupying the same space, presumably’?”
Nick racked his brain for some sort of a real suggestion. He wanted to help. He wanted to say something that would make up for having been an awkward uninvited overnight guest, at the very least. He wanted to please Dex in some small way. “How about, ‘Sure, but what’s going on?’ That way you’re leaving the door open.”
When he looked at Dex, Dex was already typing into his phone, nodding along. He looked up at Nick like he was waiting for more. The curves of his strong arms were distracting. Nick coughed.
“Um, that’s probably good to start. See if he takes it as a cue or whatever.” He thought about all the ways in which Zoya would try to shake him out of it when he’d been thirteen and hating everything. Hating the shame of being different, still, after what felt like a lifetime in America. Hating the concerned looks his parents would send his way, hating that they would retreat whenever he lashed out. She’d just wait for him to come to her, and more often than not, he’d capitulate and do it.
Dex nodded, prodded at his phone once more, and laid it flat on the table. Then he flashed Nick a grin. “Thanks, mate. I’m just sort of … unequipped. I dunno. I guess I feel—” He ran his hand over his dreads. His fingers shaped the bumps and grooves easily, like the running of water over stone. “I feel bad, you know? He’s stuck there in that posh cesspool, and I’m here—”
“You feel guilty, man. It’s fine,” Jonny said in a quiet voice. “But it’s not your fault, and … I’m not saying this to be an arsehole, but it’s not entirely your responsibility either, you know?”
“No, I know that. It’s just—” Dex broke off with a frustrated sort of sigh. “I’m just a bit helpless. I should go visit them more. Like, maybe next weekend or whatever.”
Jonny rolled his eyes. “You just went twice, and you’ve got a shitload of work to do. Go next month.”
Nick was out of his depth on this one. Apart from one semester in college, he’d lived with his mom until he came here. He had no idea what it was like to bear the burden of far-away family that wasn’t prohibitively far away. Like, on a different continent far away. Like, will most likely never see them again sort of far away.
“Maybe. Anyway, sorry, I know this is boring shit. What are you up to today?”
Nick refocused, because Dex was asking him. What was he up to today? “Uh, Skyping with my mom, probably.” Cool plan, Nick. Excellent. “And I finished my big assignment, so I’ve got some free time. Maybe I’ll … walk around or something.” What a gripping life, indeed.
“Coffeeeee.”
Izzy. Nick hadn’t heard her creaking down the stairs, but there she was, walking through the kitchen in the most disarray he’d ever seen her in. Her hair was wild and appeared to be ten times bigger than normal, standing in a red halo around her head. A ratty T-shirt barely covered her underwear, a fact that Nick had glimpsed and immediately looked away from. He was probably flushed now. She was really cute. She also appeared completely unconcerned about this state of affairs, which made Nick feel a little better. She was comfortable, which had to be a good sign, right? He moved out of the way of her zombie walk toward the French press.
“Morning,” Jonny laughed, scooting his stool over and beckoning Nick to stand beside him. “Had enough sleep?”
“Mrhhhh. Mugs?”
“Cupboard?”
“Right.” She flung open two cabinets at a time, nearly braining herself on the doors. All three of them moved as one to prevent tragedy, but Izzy barely noticed, grabbing a mug with a picture of a cartoon butt on it and shutting the cupboards with a bang. “Right.”
All three of them watched, Nick with increasing horror, as she drained the French press of its contents, then splashed an inordinate amount of milk and three heaping spoonfuls of sugar into her cup and swirled it all together with a chopstick. She didn’t turn around until she’d sucked down half the cup.
“Oh, hey, Nick!” She smiled wide once she spotted him. “You’re still here, yay!”
Nick cleared his throat. “Yeah. Sorry I got, you know.” He swallowed. “Pretty wasted.”
Izzy made a dismissive ‘pfft’ sound with an expressive gesture that apparently was meant to convey her current state. “Please. Anyway, our casa es su casa, et cetera, et cetera, and anyway, Nat’s not been home for, like, three nights or something. She’s called Lotty, apparently,” she added, looking at Dex.
“Noted.”
“Anyway, what was that about a walk?” she asked, beaming at Nick and catching him completely by surprise.
“Oh, uh, I was thinking about going somewhere, to, like, explore,” he said.
“Ohhh, where were you thinking?”
He hadn’t. He’d just planned on looking at a map and pointing to a random location. He shrugged.
“Have you been to Primrose Hill yet?” she asked, her earlier sleepiness all but gone from her features. Nick shook his head. “Ooh, would you want to? We could go together. It’s really pretty, and there’s Regent’s Park, and—sorry, would that be all right? I just invited myself, didn’t I?”
Nick wondered what his face looked like. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to him that he could see London with actual Londoners. He’d definitely have to go home and shower first. But it sounded nice. “Yeah. Totally.” He hoped he looked enthusiastic and not like a deer caught in headlights. “I should probably, like, let you get ready and go back to the dorm.” He plucked at his rumpled shirt. “Maybe we could meet up in a bit?”
“Brilliant!” It occurred to Nick that he rarely saw Izzy without makeup on. The freckles dotting her nose and cheeks looked like sunbursts. She really was beautiful. She just wasn’t … Well. She wasn’t.
Nick smiled in response.
+
“Privet, milyi!”
His mom greeted Nick over Skype with a grainy, pixelated smile. He laughed, hearing Zoyka in the background yelling about not starting without her.
“How are things?” he asked. It surprised him, how quickly Russian could recede from his tongue if left unused. He picked his words out carefully, rolled them around his brain before letting them roll off his tongue. They felt jagged in his mouth, scarily unfamiliar. He hated that feeling. It had only been a couple months.
“Everything is good with us, of course,” his mom responded immediately with a shrug, as Zoyka popped up next to her and waved. Their nearly identical faces watched him happily, and for a moment he wished he could reach through and hug them, bury his nose in the familiar scents of his mom’s perfume, of Zoyka’s citrus shampoo. “How are things with you?”
“Everything is good. Classes are good, London’s good.” Better than good. He felt it wrapped all around him, a trembling quiver of possibility. He couldn’t wait to let Izzy show him more places.
“Look at him, he’s smiling!” Zoyka laughed, and he stuck out his tongue at her. Mom rolled her eyes, of course.
“Stop that, the pair of you. We want details, Kolechka. Davai.” She sat back, waiting.
Zoyka tipped her chin at him. “How are those friends of yours?”
“They’re good,” he said, chewing on his lower lip. “I’m going to Primrose Hill with someone in a bit.”
“Ohhh, who?”
“Izzy.”
“Izzy? What sort of name is Izzy?” Mom.
“I think it’s short for Isabel.”
“Strange. Okay, and what is Izzy like?”
Oh, he knew that tone. He rolled his eyes, shrugging off his mounting irritation. “Izzy is nice, Ma. She cut my hair.” Zoyka’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t say anything, and Nick didn’t encourage her. “Then there’s Natali.” She’s gay. How would his mom react to that? “Also Jonny.” He’s trans. How would she react to that? “And Alex.” He’s black. “And Steph.” She’d probably be fine with Steph. “And Dex.” He’s black. He’s gay. He’s beautiful.
Nick rubbed his palms on his pants. Even through the denim he could feel the wet heat of them. He scratched the back of his head. He hoped the Internet connection was shitty enough that they wouldn’t see his flushed cheeks.
“Well, I’m glad you have friends, that’s good.”
“Yeah, hope they’re feeding you.”
“Zoyka, otstan’ ot nego. He’s been feeding himself for a while now, haven’t you?”
“I don’t know, still looks skinny to me.” Zoya said it kinder than he was used to from her, though, so he just rolled his eyes.
“Nu lando, hvatit.” His mom cut them off. “Chto eschio slyhat’, malysh?”
Nick shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. It was strange. Not much was the real answer, and yet it was no answer at all. He longed to end the call before words tumbled out that he could never actually speak. The screen boxed him in, their gazes pinned him in that box. “Nothing, really. All’s good.”
“Well, that’s good.” Mom smiled. “It’s nice to see you, honey. I’m still not used to the haircut.”
Nick wrinkled his nose and ran his hand over the back of his head. “It was nice of her to do for free.”
“Well, she’s your friend, isn’t she? Why wouldn’t she?”
Nick shrugged. “Zoyka, how’s Jake?”
“He’s fine. He’s being quiet, but he’s here.”
“Hey, Nick!” Jake’s voice piped up in the background. “Is that girl hot? You should get on that, being a free man and all!”
Nick flushed probably all the way down to his toes and ignored his mom’s penetrative stare. He hated that Jake had learned enough Russian to figure out what they’d been talking about. “She’s seeing someone,” he lied. “Anyway, she’s not my type.” And how. He hated the relief that switching to English brought on.
“Shame. Have a good one, man!”
“Thanks, J.” He waved, then felt stupid. Zoyka was smiling, looking to the left of the screen. They were grossly adorable together. Nick made a point of rolling his eyes at her when she looked back at him. “Dork,” he told her in English.
“Kol’, davai po Russki,” Mom said. “You’ll forget it all by the time you get back.”
“I won’t, don’t worry,” he said, switching at once and feeling anything but certain.
“All right, all right. Well, we should go. Jake is taking us out for brunch.” She looked so pleased. For his mom, a creature of habit, it was rare enough to go out to eat: he couldn’t believe that she’d been moved to go to brunch, of all things, with Zoya and her boyfriend. Zoya’s face clearly broadcast smug self-satisfaction at him.
“That sounds nice,” he said, feeling yet more guilt at the relief flowing through him of knowing the call was coming to an end.
“Yes, yes. You take care of yourself, okay?” Mom was all business again. “Well, schastlivo, Kolen’ka.”
“I vam schastlivo!” he said, and then the screen blinked and went black. Nick slumped back against the chair and closed his eyes. Sometimes he wished he had ended up somewhere with no Internet.