Page 11 of True Sight
“You know, when your best friend calls you transatlantic,the least you could do is sit down and have a chat with her for a bit,” Ellie starts to complain to my ceiling fan. I take a breath as I pull the plug from the wall and move to pick her up again.
“You know, your best friend moved to the opposite side of the world, is trying to open up his own fitness studio, and just had five years of boxes and bins delivered and dropped in his lap. The least you could do is give him a few moments to find his laptop charger before he has a full on breakdown,” I reply dryly.
“Why are you going to have a full on breakdown? Was someone mean to you? Do I need to come and crack some heads?” she asks. When I finally look at her, I notice she’s sitting in what looks to be a velvet booth and is holding a crystal martini glass in her hand.
“Hold on a moment, where are you?” I glance at the clock on my stove and note that it is close to eight o’clock on her side of the world. I wanted to be at the coffee shop hours ago but my meeting with my contractors this morning ran long and then I had another class to teach after lunch. At this point, I won’t get to unpacking boxes until the sun’s gone down.
“Oh, I’m waiting for Jordan to get done at the restaurant. He’s taking forever so I decided to make myself comfortable.” She gives me a wink and raises the expensive glass at me before taking a sip. Her fiancé is the owner of several posh restaurants around London which is how they met in the first place.
“Ahh, I see. He’s ‘just taking a minute,’ I suppose?” I mock his words as I pack my backpack with my charger, laptop, protein bar, and headphones. More than once she would go to see him while he was at work or they would be out and he would ask to make a stop that would ‘just take aminute.’ Every time that minute would become several hours.
“Oh you know Jordan. It’s been nearly an hour of me sitting here and he’s still in the back.”
“Maybe you should go and tell him it’s time to leave,” I offer, glancing between her and my trainers which I’m tying.
“But I’d much rather talk to you, my very best friend in the entire world. I miss you, pet,” she whimpers and sticks out her bottom lip for good measure.
“I miss you, too, love, more than anything, but unfortunately now’s not a good time. I’m running a bit behind on my day and still need to plan out seven classes for the week. And unpack my boxes. And I have that meeting tomorrow. And I need to post about needing additional instructors for the studio—” I start to ramble off my seemingly endless to-do list until she stops me.
“Henry,breathe. It will all get done. You’ve only been there a couple of weeks and you still have loads of time before you’re projected to open. It’s only mid-September, try not to fret about it.” I hold my phone in front of my face before glancing around the room at all the boxes again.It will all get done. Try not to fret about it.
“You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right, I’m always right and don’t youeverforget that.” She gives me a smug expression which I reply to with a head shake. “Now go, you have work to do and I won’t be the reason you’re stressed about it not getting done. Maybe I’ll go see if Jordan is ready.”
“Maybe flash him your knockers, that might do the trick,” I joke with a laugh as I step out of my apartment, locking the door behind me.
“Maybe I’ll showyoumy knockers,” she snickers.
“No thanks, love. I’ve seen them before and no offense, but they don’t do it for me.”
After punchingin the address for the coffee shop just around the corner, I set off down the street. As I walk, I take in the old homes and structures of the city and watch as horse-drawn carriages roll down the streets. Not having a car yet, I intentionally moved into a place that’s just a few blocks from the studio so when I have to go to check in on things or meet with builders or contractors, I can simply walk. This is also why I’d asked Conrad to meet me at the coffee shop I’m currently heading for. A car is on my list of things to get done as soon as possible, I just haven’t gotten to it yet.
As I walk, I think about the last seven years of my life. How it changed completely after coming out to my parents and they effectively cut me out of their lives. Having grown up in expensive private schools and having weekly meetings with private tutors, part of me knew they wouldn’t take it well but I didn’t realize they’d take it as poorly as they did. Mother cried and Dad turned a shade of reddish purple I didn’t think you could turn unless you’re having some kind of medical emergency. The only one to accept me for who I am was Gran. After my parents told me to get out and not come back until I had ‘figured myself out,’ I went to see her. She and I had always been close and after telling her what happened, I knew that she knew me for who I was all along. While I had been living on my own for years after finishing uni, I still relied on my parents for a lot. But after I explained why I would never be bringing home a future wife, all that support was gone.
So I did what I could to get by and Gran helped here and there too. For two of the longest years of my life I battled with the feeling like I would never be loved or accepted for who I really was. I was proud of who I was, but wondered if anyone would be proud of me too. If anyone out there would love me the way I loved myself. The anxiety and depression had convinced me for the longest time that I wouldn’t. Then Ellie came stumbling into Pickles one night and my life changed again. She, with the help of a kind-hearted therapist and carefully prescribed medicines, pulled me out of my own darkness, showed me the light, and helped me realize that I could be loved for who I am and who I was becoming.
Now, here I am, on what feels like the cusp of another life-changing event.
Finally making it to the coffee shop, my hand reaches for the door but my mind is so distracted by all the thoughts and emotions running around inside it to notice that as I’m trying to walk inside, someone is trying to walk out. We collide in the door frame, our foreheads bouncing off one another before stumbling backwards a few steps.
“Ow, what the fuck? Watch where you’re going, man,” the stranger barks, rubbing his forehead with a hand.
Mirroring his movements, I do the same and look up to apologize. “Oh my gosh, I am so sor?—”
The word gets caught in my throat when I see his face clearly. He’s tall, taller than me, and I’m a few inches short of six feet, and has ashy blond hair that’s longer on the top. The way it’s tousled gives him an aloof schoolboy look and I feel my fingers twitch at my sides, begging for me to run my fingers through it. He’s wearing a loose, short-sleeved button down shirt and a pair of well-fitted shorts to match with it. The line of his jaw is cut at an angle and he’s clean shaven,close to the skin. Not a hint of stubble in sight so I know he must shave daily. The hint of aftershave I pick up on him tells me my hunch must be right. He looks like he could be my age but the way he’s hunched over makes him look like he could be forty years my senior. Even with him scowling at me, I can’t miss the warm amber color of his eyes.
I didn’t realize they made them like this in America.
I clear my throat and try to focus on something other than the warm buzz I feel in my core. “I apologize completely, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“Yeah, no shit. Typically you let people come out before you go barging into a place,” he scoffs, readjusting his backpack that he has slung over one shoulder.
“Yes, I know. Again, I’m very sorry. Are you okay?” My hand reaches to touch the spot on his forehead where we collided but I stop it before it gets too far.
“I’m fine,” he huffs, pushing past me and walking towards the parking lot. My eyebrows press together, utterly annoyed that he won’t accept my apology and is acting like the minor concussions we both have are entirely my fault.
“You know you’re going to give yourself a hunch,” I remark as he walks away. When he turns to face me he looks as annoyed as I feel.
