TWO BIRDS, ONE STONE
21
Jack : I won’t be meeting you guys tonight
Nate : Nuri told us.
Nate : You coward.
Jack : Come on, I’ve got a date.
Jack : I’m not avoiding you.
Nate : You knew she was going to scold me like a child.
Jack : I did.
Nate : For something you’re responsible for.
Jack : I’m not responsible for the way you blew her off.
Jack : And I’m sure the scolding I got was worse than yours.
Jack : And that she’ll scold me again tomorrow.
Nate : So you are avoiding it.
Jack : Two birds, one stone.
Jack : I really like Ikram. And he likes me.
Nate : Yeah, yeah. I know.
Nate : Enjoy your date.
JACK
Ikram is amazing. I mean, the guy is handsome as hell—even as a child, when my friends were falling for Jasmine, I was all crazy for Aladdin—funny, interesting, and he speaks 6 languages fluently. One of them is French. Hot.
“How the hell do you know that many languages?” I ask, sipping from my wine glass.
He chuckles softly, and that sound alone makes me shiver. “My parents are Algerian, and I have five sisters and one brother. We moved to France when I was about six years old because my father was an Ambassador.” He pauses, and his smile drops slightly. “We moved a lot after, for his work. We had to adapt and learn every time, because my parents always said that, in a world like ours, where fear and racism is unfortunately omnipresent, people would always find ways to be unkind or blame us for something. Learning their culture and adapting to their ways helped us fit in. We were never completely excluded from some sort of racism or discrimination, but at least, we were able to understand when people were being racist and unfair towards us.”
I nod, listening to his story. I could say that I understand—being an adopted, gay, disabled man—how it feels to be rejected constantly. But I am still a white guy with blond hair and green eyes. Racism is not something I’ve been subjected to.
“Do you get along with your family?” I ask then.
“I am. It was a little rough when I first came out—I was sixteen—but my mother is an extraordinary woman,” he smiles. “When my dad wouldn’t talk to me for a few months, she tore him a new one. Saying she gave him some time to get used to the idea, and now it was time he accepted it. That she always knew that I was different, and whether I was out or not, I was still their son, and it didn’t change me. But we’re Muslim, and it took time for my father to really accept it. But as soon as he did, he was all in. Admitting proudly at the embassy that his son was gay by wearing a little Pride Flag pin on his suit jacket, marching the gay pride with me and one of my sisters, who admitted not long ago that she was also queer, and we’ve never been happier.”
I smile, but jolt slightly when I feel the lone tear falling down my cheek.
It’s always a weird feeling hearing about other’s coming out stories. When it goes well, there’s this relief that those people didn’t go through the same situation I did—and still do, my father is definitely erasing every trace that I ever existed in his life—but also a deep sadness. About my situation, and how I wished it had happened differently. That my father would have eventually accepted it and supported me.
He grabs my hand over the candlelit table, lacing our fingers together, looking at me with the kindest deep brown eyes.
“I went through a tough time when I came out. I was dating this guy, he was older than me and turned out to be a massive manipulative asshole,” he says, his eyes turning dull. “He… Tried to force himself on me at some point and when I managed to push him away, he shamed me and blamed me, saying that I was making him unhappy.”
“I ended things, but he kept trying to come back into my life, making my depression worse. That’s when my parents stepped in and pulled me out of it.” His throat bobs, and I squeeze his hand in silent invitation to continue. “They got me psychological help and we pressed charges against him. It was a dark place for me, but it also ended up being what brought me closer to my family.”
“The way your family reacted sucks,” he admits, with a long sigh. “It’s the worst case scenario.” I close my eyes, trying to hold back more tears. Tears for what he’s been through, and my broken family. “But you know what’s amazing, though? Your sister, and her unconditional love. She chose you, when the rest of your family decided not to. And you. You’re amazing for fighting despite what happened. And you know what? If your family doesn’t want you, trust me when I say mine will.” He smiles, squeezing my hand kindly. “They are loud, and all our gatherings are a little chaotic but if you ever want to come with me to meet them, they’ll love you like one of their own.”
I chuckle wetly—crying on a first date, gross—and he leans forwards, wiping a couple of tears with his thumb.
I wasn’t expecting this date to become so emotional.
“Come on, let’s talk about happier things,” I say, forcing a smile, not pulling my hand away from his. “When did you move to L.A?”
“Ah,” he laughs, his thumb rubbing circles on the top of my hand. “It’s been… Almost five years. Evie and I were both living in Washington. We met in college and were not feeling good about our studies. She became a personal care worker because of the most random job post and loved it. They were looking to hire more people and expand so I applied. And it felt right, you know? The next year, my parents moved to L.A, so we followed and joined a company here.”
I nod. “You’re good at it.”
“I’ll make sure the person they replace me with is one of our best,” he says, eyes dropping to our hands still laced over the table.
“Replace you?”
He shrugs with a shy smile. “It’s unethical to work for someone you—well, if we date. And if I have to choose, I’d rather date you, so I’ll step away. But be assured that I’ll be breathing down the neck of whoever replaces me,” he adds with a mischievous smile.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I reassure him. “And Evie will still be here, anyway.”
“She will. And me too, just not as much and not as your help anymore.”
Is this official, then? I’m not sure how to do this. It’s been a while since I’ve been on an actual date. And not since my condition got worse. What if he thinks he’s ready for all this but realizes that it’s too much? That I’m too damaged? That, even though I’m feeling better, sex is still too complicated? And if it’s too much for him after what he went through? What if—
“You’re overthinking, aren’t you?”
“Hm?” I ask, trying to force a smile.
“It’s amazing how much Prue and you look alike, even though you aren’t blood related. You have the same weird expression when you’re lost in thoughts. And right now, you were clearly overthinking. Or freaking out. But nothing good.”
I wince. I never realized that Prue and I were so easy to read. Well, not true. I noticed that she was, but didn’t know it was the same for me. And yet, we manage to hide it from each other…
“You’ve been brave enough to ask me out, so I’ll be taking this one. I like you. Like—a lot. And I really enjoyed our date tonight. If you did too, I’d love to go on a lot more. Because I’ve been thinking about this since the day I met you,” he leans forward, pushing our glasses of wine on the side, stopping right in front of my face. My eyes can’t help but glance at his lips, and the small smile stretching across them. “And how I want to kiss you.”
Should I kiss him on our first date? What if he—
No overthinking. I want to kiss him. So actions first, and mental freak out later.
I close the small distance between us in a second, our lips finally meeting, and I feel like I’m melting. He tastes like red wine and spices, his skin is soft and warm. His hand cradles the side of my face, as his lips move, deepening our kiss. And I’m flying. Because I almost forgot what it feels like to be kissed. A soft, curious kiss. Like we’re discovering each other, taking the time to explore and taste.
When he pulls away, we’re both grinning.
“We’ll definitely have to do more of that,” he whispers playfully, before standing up. “I’ll clean up the table, and we could have another drink on the couch?”
“Yes. Definitely,” I answer, but I don’t get up, too enraptured by his smile, and the shape of his lips.
“Do you need my help?”
I blink a few times and clear my throat. “No, I think I can manage.”
I stand up slowly, using the edge of the table as leverage and high-five myself in my head when I start to take the few steps to go sit on the couch. I don’t think I’ll ever thank Nate enough for this.
Not ten minutes later, Ikram sits next to me, handing me a new glass of wine.
“So, I’m guessing you have some kind of list?”
I arch a brow. “How do you know?”
“I don’t really,” he shrugs. “But I know that people with this kind of illness usually do.”
I exhale a long, deep breath. The list. I do have one. Prue knows about it, but not what’s on it except for a couple of things. Like, see and talk to our parents one last time, or go to one last book signing event.
“I have one, yes,” I admit, staring at my wine swirling in the glass. “But I don’t talk about what’s on it a lot.”
“Is making sure Prudence is taken care of, on it?” he asks.
“It is.”
I arch a brow in surprise. Am I that obvious?
“And… Have you thought about what you learned from Evie last Friday night?”
“Obviously. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped thinking about it all week,” I scoff. “I’m trying to push them together, but I’m not sure how. She’s getting her car back, so she won’t need him to give her rides, and cutting her brakes seems a little overkill… He doesn’t look like he’s ready to talk to me about it.”
He hums distractedly, eyes narrowed and lost in front of him. “Maybe he’ll make a move on his own? Even though I doubt it because of what happened back then. He probably still thinks you’ll kill him if he touches your sister. You should tell him you know. That you’re okay with it.”
“I dropped hints, it doesn’t look like he believes me.”
“Because you were toying with him.” He rolls his eyes.
He’s leaning on his side against the back of the couch to face me, one of his legs folded against his chest, holding his wine glass in front of him. I’m slightly turned too, but I try to keep my back against it to make sure I don’t hurt it more than it already is.
He looks so comfortable. Here. On my couch with me.
“They’re out tonight, right? With your friend, Nuri?”
“Yeah. Nuri knew, by the way.”
“She knew?”
“I mean, she didn’t know but she noticed. What he felt for her, even back then.”
“How do you know?” he asks, confusion pulling at his face.
“We texted a bit this week. I needed to talk about it to someone who wasn’t you or Evie, and she said she knew. She was there when I introduced them on Prue’s first day of college. She said she saw something in his eyes that day and that he never brought another girl on a date at the bar she worked at. She also said that Prue and I were probably the only clueless ones,” I grumble.
“I have no trouble believing that,” he chuckles. “So what do you think we should do? Oh, yeah, Evie and I are definitely in on this,” he adds quickly when he notices my puzzled face.
“I don’t know. I thought that maybe if they spend a lot of time together, they could—”
“Fuck, I have an idea!” Ikram says, jolting upright, eyes wide and a wicked grin stretching his lips. “They all know we have a date tonight, right?” I nod. “Good. Hear me out…”