Page 8 of Tides of Discovery
“I’m sure. Thanks.”
After Jessica left, I moved through my closing routine with practiced efficiency. The ordinary tasks—wiping down tables, running the end-of-day report, loading the dishwasher—grounded me. By the time I finished, evening had settled outside the windows, and the coffee shop felt like a warm cave against the January chill.
I pulled my coat tight around me as I stepped onto the sidewalk. The cold air hit me like a splash of iced coffee, and I hurried toward my apartment four blocks away. My breath puffed white in front of me as I walked. My thoughts circled back to the same painful realizations I’d been torturing myself with all afternoon.
My parents hadn’t changed in the sixteen years since I’d come out during my sophomore year of college. They hadn’t disowned me—that would have been too dramatic, too obvious. Instead, they’d settled into a pattern of cool politeness, treating my sexuality like a regrettable phase that they were enduring. Every interaction came with unspoken judgment.
And I’d just agreed to pour myself another cup of that particular blend.
By the time I reached my apartment building, my fingers were stiff and cold despite having shoved them in my pockets. I fumbled with my keys, grateful when the lock finally turned and I stepped into the relative warmth of my first-floor apartment.
Inside, I kicked off my shoes and hung my jacket on the hook by the door. I was dying to sit and put my feet up, and my gaze strayed to my threadbare but comfortable chair. More focused on paying down the loan for the coffee shop than on interior design, I’d furnished the modest one-bedroom apartment frugally.
My phone chimed, and a text from Jack lit up the screen.
Coming over? I’ve got a new co-op game.
I smiled despite my mood. Our weekly gaming nights had become a fixture in my life since Jack moved to Seacliff Cove last spring, but they were just the latest iteration of a friendship that had somehow survived regardless of the distance between San Jose and Seacliff Cove.
Jack had been my anchor during those tumultuous college years when I was figuring out who I was, both as a gay man and as someone trying to find my place in the world. His friendship had been uncomplicated—a safe harbor during the storm of coming out to my family.
During the years after college, we’d kept in touch through an evolving series of connections. First, it was weekend visits when he’d drive up 280 to crash on my couch, bringing obscure coffee beans he’d discovered for me to try. Then, as his career in cybersecurity took off and the coffee shop demanded more of my time, we shifted to weekly calls and a constant stream of texts—Jack sharing amusing stories of clients, me sending him photos of experimental latte art.
Five years ago, we’d started online gaming sessions every week. Jack would log on from his San Jose apartment, I’d fire up my ancient PlayStation, and we’d spend hours playing whatever game had caught his interest. Conversation flowed effortlessly through our headsets.
It still amazed me sometimes how easily we’d maintained our friendship, as if the years and miles between us had been nothing more than a brief interlude. And when he’d messaged me last year about possibly moving to Seacliff Cove, it had felt like the universe was offering me something good after years of striving to make the coffee shop successful.
On my way in 30. Need me to bring anything?
His response came quickly.
Just your stellar gaming skills. You’ll need them.
I could practically hear his teasing tone through the text. Jack had always ribbed me about my gaming abilities, even during those online sessions when the freeway separated us.
The prospect of spending the evening with Jack pushed thoughts of my parents—and the hacker—to the back burner.
I showered quickly and changed into jeans and a soft-washed comfortable sweatshirt. In the bathroom mirror, I noted the tired lines around my eyes—evidence of too many early mornings and not enough sleep. My damp hair fell across my forehead, and I made a halfhearted attempt to tame it before giving up. Jack had seen me looking far worse during finals week.
I grabbed a six-pack of Barnacle Brews from my fridge and headed out. Jack’s apartment was above Tides & Tales, the bookstore next to my coffee shop. The convenience of his living next door to the shop had been one of the selling points when I’d mentioned the apartment to him last spring.
I walked the short distance back to Main Street. Tides & Tales was closed for the evening, its front window display already sporting early Valentine’s decorations. I rang the buzzer to access the separate entrance that led to the upstairs apartments. When the lock clicked, I climbed the stairs to the third floor.
Jack’s door was on the landing at the top, and before I could knock, it swung open. “Did you bring the beer?” he asked without preamble.
“You have a sixth sense for beer arrival.” I held up the six-pack.
“It’s my superpower.” He stepped aside to let me in. “That, and always knowing when the pizza guy is about to ring the buzzer.”
Jack’s apartment was the opposite of mine: warm and lived-in, with colorful gaming art prints and a massive entertainment center dominating one wall of the living room. Cutting-edge gaming consoles sat neatly beneath his impressive flat-screen TV. Books and graphic novels, interspersed with collectible figurines from various games and movies, filled a large bookshelf.
I noticed a framed photo on the shelf that hadn’t been there during my last visit: the two of us at Brewed Awakening during college, Jack pretending to be shocked by whatever experimental coffee I’d forced him to try. I remembered my roommate taking that picture, but I was surprised Jack had kept it all these years, let alone framed it. But that was Jack—my safe, reliable best friend. The cornerstone of my life.
The apartment had undergone a transformation since he’d moved in. What had once been an outdated rental with old fixtures was now distinctly Jack’s space. He’d painted the walls a soft gray, installed a washer and dryer, and somehow convinced Mason to let him replace the ancient appliances.
“Pizza’s on the coffee table.” Jack took the beer from me and headed to the kitchen. “I got half veggie supreme for your boring, health-conscious side and half meat lover’s for people who actually enjoy life.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Some of us don’t have the metabolism of a hummingbird, Anderson.”
