Page 1 of Feels Like Home
1
Courtland
This is the story of how my best friend and I took the scenic route from friendship to love.
It is not a story about me flashing my naked body in front of a room full of mostly strangers.
Although that did happen.
And yes, jaws did hit the floor.
Because yes, the people wereimpressed.
2
Courtland
There's no such thing as a good time to die, but if there was, Grandpa Arnie couldn't have picked a better time to go.
It's three days before Thanksgiving, which means the annual migration of ex-townies will be in full swing, ensuring a healthy turnout for his funeral. A fitting sendoff for a man I revered as a kid but didn't get to spend anywhere near enough time with as an adult.
I blow past the 45 speed limit sign, not wanting to be late. I love fall in Maine, but late fall, with its bare, leafless trees and overcast gray skies, is hardly picture-postcard pretty.
I zip up my hoodie and crank the heater. From the passenger seat, my phone lights up. I swipe to answer and hit the speaker button. I tried pairing my phone with the rental’s Bluetooth at the airport but couldn't get the damn thing to connect, my brain too jet-lagged from the flight that would not end.
I answer the call, and the deep, familiar timbre I’ve missed so much washes over me. "Good to have you back on US soil, buddy."
"Hey, Buzz," I say. "Thought I'd never make it."
"What happened?"
Buzz got held over for a second tour—forty-eight hours straight at the fire station—so we've been out of touch. It's taken me about the same amount of time to make it home.
I groan as I recount the nightmare journey from the beginning. "Flight out of Nairobi was delayed twelve hours due to mechanical issues. I missed my Frankfurt connection. Grabbed a crappy bratwurst from a kiosk near the Lufthansa gates that gave me stomach cramps while I tried to get some rest on the world’s most uncomfortable airport chair that my lower back won't be forgetting anytime soon. Finally got on a flightto Boston. Circled over Logan for half an hour due to strong crosswinds. We eventually got diverted to Albany."
"That sounds like hell."
I pull the hood over my head. "Hell would be warmer."
A shiver runs through me, my body struggling to adjust to the thirty-six-degree drop in temperature.
"Does that mean you're stuck in Albany?" he asks.
"Nope. I didn't want to wait for another flight, so I'm driving."
"Where are you now?"
I slow down as I approach the top contender for the most X-rated distance sign in the entire country.
Slutterville 7 → Loadsmouth 23 → Bumstead 38 → Clovelly 52
"Just passing the slut sign."
Buzz chuckles, and the sound reverberates through my chest, warming me up from the inside. "Will we ever grow up and stop calling it that?"
I speed up again. "Sure as hell hope not."
Brock Lightyear, known to everyone as Buzz for reasons that require no explaining, is my best friend in the world.
