No ones telling you how to live your life
But it’s a setup until you’re fed up

This world is not so kind
People trap your mind
It’s so hard to find
Someone to admire

---

I must have been on auto-pilot mode because I arrive at the cafe with no memory of ever walking pass the usual bakery. Shaking my head lightly, as if I am trying to shake the idea of the man - Kurt - out of my head. I tried to convince myself that he’s just a stranger, that soon he’ll become one of the nameless faces in my memories. Soon I won’t even remember my encounter with the most beautiful man I’ve ever met and won’t even recall that his eyes’ colors are grey, blue and green, all of those at the same time. So I grab the door handle, a bit too hard, push open the door and go inside.

After five minutes standing in the line, finally it’s my turn to order, “I’d like a Medium drip and a turkey sandwich. Also a packet of that pink-colored cookies, please,” I point to the packets of cookies that are sitting on the trays. The barista repeats my order then announces the price, I pay and slip some coins in the ‘tips’ jar, receive my number and step out of the line. Another three minutes pass - yes, I keep that in check, not because I am that strict on timing, it’s because I look in my watch and play with my phone so that I don’t look stupid standing there - they call my name and I take the tray from the smiling barista. I return it with a ‘thank you’. I quickly find my useful spot without much effort and since it’s not yet occupied, I may as well claim it. I put my tray down and hang my jacket on the chair.

As I am taking tiny sips from my coffee, I notice the neat hand-writing on the paper ring around the cup. After taking a quick look at it, I know that her name is Suzy. She must be new then. Most of the old staffs from this place know me - it’s not like I come here that often, no, not at all - and they know for a fact that I am gay. The same thing happened before. My third time coming here and the barista who had been giving me shy smiles and suggestive glances gave me her phone number. I refused her, politely of course. It didn’t came for her as a shock, really, she even said something that similar to all the good guys are gays. I took no offense but why are people keeping assuming things they see without giving it second thoughts? It’s like when you look this way or that way, you immediately become a stereotype in others’ eyes and won’t stand a chance to deny it.

So I roll the ring off, place it beneath the tray, picking my sandwich up and start eating. I finish it with lightning speed. Huh, guess I’m hungrier than I thought. I tear of the ribbon tied to the packet, taking out one by one, snapping them in halves and give them single bites. The cookies are delightful. Slightly sweeter than usual but I’m not complaining. May be accompanied by tea they will taste even better. It’s a pity I’m a coffee addict.

I pick up my stuff - which is the old jacket - and prepare to leave the shop. I catch Suzy giving me a somewhat suggestive look, like she is trying to communicate with me nonverbally. I do what I usually do. I smile at her - the smile that Wes usually says ‘No. 7: The you-are-in-my friend-zone’ kind of smile. I don’t know if she get it but I’m not really keen on finding it out. May be her co-workers will tell her later on. I don’t know. It’s not my business people don’t take on hints I give, like the bright pink cookies packet for example.

The cafe door opens and sunlight comes shining in. I can feel the warmth on my face and hands. It’s time to start the day.

—-

Today turned out to be a disaster. And it’s not even finished yet.

Here I am walking back to my apartment, jobless. Well, the barista and waiter thing doesn’t count. They are both part-time jobs and I do not enjoy a single minute running tables or calling orders. Sure, they pay okay. But not enough. Okay is never enough. Especially when you’re living in New York. Of course I can always take some out of my account. The thing is, I don’t want to depend on it too much. It comes from my parents and it’ll just prove that they were right. He was right. And I can’t bear living on the money of someone who won’t even accept me. It’s like a taunting game to him. Giving me money, let me do whatever I want. At the end of the day, it’ll be me who keep running back expecting him to help me, to take shelter, to admit that ‘being gay’ is just a phase.

The lights are on. I can see my apartment ahead. Just a few feet away. There sits a comfy old sofa, with light fragrance of lavender and honey. Grandma’s goodbye gift. She insisted I had it with me when I move here. Turned out it really is a ‘goodbye’ gift. Six months after my moving, grandma passed away. Her pearl necklaces went to my mother. Her clothes are kept at my aunt’s house. Her sofa is now mine. I still remember the days I was a five-year-old kid, running around their house, excited for the monthly visit. Grandma would always sit there, always seemed to be knitting something. Whenever I asked, the answer would be, ‘For your grandpa, dear’. I didn’t know, grandpa passed away three year before I was born. My aunt told me once, the sofa was their love seat. Where grandpa would sit there, either watching something on the black and white TV or reading something. Where grandma would be knitting a sweater, a sock, a glove. They would talk and laugh and exchange endearing looks. His arm never left her shoulder. Her smile never left her lips.

Their love inspired me. It gives me hope. Makes me believe that I, too, can someday find the one that is meant for me. Because isn’t that what everyone wants? Sure there will come a day we sit in our house, content with our career, with money in the bank. But will that be true happiness when we can’t find the right person to share it with?

Grandpa found his love. Grandma, too.

So when he was no longer there, it must be a great loss for her. Because suddenly, he was gone. Nowhere to be found. Completely disappear out of her life. That was why she could not bear the thought of living without him. The day grandma died, I went home and found my aunt clutching her hand, people were there. People that loved her. They still do. She was a lovely woman.

Mother was also there, right beside her bed. Expressionless. I wondered what Mother thought. Others had said she was so overwhelmed by feelings. She never really says anything out of frustration, always seems to be the calm, strict kind of parent. And Father is the ‘fun’ type. The allows-your-teenage-sons-do-everything-they-want. He’s like the complete opposite of Mother. He shows feelings. So I had thought that when I come out, he’d be the one to show me some kind of acceptance. Silly thought, really.

Slowly I take the steps that lead to my apartment’s door. Each step getting heavier and heavier. I had a small lunch at somewhere around 3. It was a serving of salad and burger accompanied by a can of Diet Coke. With the intention of saving more money, I took walking most of the time which result in my empty stomach right now.

Tired, rejected and hungry. Those three never prove to be good companions for a sleepy person. I open the apartment with a key hidden under the mat. The process of taking off my shoes, hanging my jacket and dumping clothes in the basket goes by like an every day routine. Too familiar to make out the different, like my mind is programmed to do those things without paying attention. Honestly, I’m too beat-up to even care. I take a quick shower. Using only a towel to cover my lower body. I will worry about catching a cold some time tomorrow. But not now. Now I just want to drown in a dreamless sleep and just sleep.

And that’s the moment my phone chooses to ring. I groan and sit up, stretch out my right hand to find the damn phone that keeps ringing and ringing into my ears.

“It’s Anderson. What’s your business?” Wow, I am in a bad mood.

“Hello there, no, I don’t need to go through formal greetings. Because that’s not how normal people do. Seriously Blaine, where’s your manner?” says David.

“Since when do you think you’re the one to lecture me about manner?” I shoot back.

“True, true. Would it be more fitting if it’s Wes? I mean, the dude is…”

“David, come on. You interrupt me and make me listen to you rambling?”

“Oh, not the right time huh? You with someone?” his voice is filled with mocking now.

“No, just going to bed early.”

“Really? You sure you’re not with a random stranger? Who go to bed at 10, except for toddler?”

“Me. And if you don’t cut to the chase I’m hanging up.”

“Okay, okay, I’m speaking! You sure are un-dapper when you’re sleepy.”

“David.” I warn.

“Puck’s out tomorrow. Said he want to be at this important family meeting. And we’re short on staffs.”

“And you believe him?”

“Ah…”

“See? The dude’s not even in contact with his mother anymore.”

“I don’t know. It’s just he kept nagging and black-mailing me the past week and I really don’t want to meet the Puckster.”

“The… Puckster?” What the hell, am I hallucinating?

“His fist.”

“David, you are the manager! You keep him under control!”

“I know, I know. But I also want to keep my pretty face from injuries. My face is my business dude. Customers don’t go to restaurant just for food.” says David.

I let out an honest laugh. It takes David five full minutes to calm me down.

“Oh god, that was a good laugh. Thanks, David. I really needed that.”

“Har har, laugh all you want. So, are you up for it?”

“I don’t know, it’s such a short notice.”

“We’ll raise it by 25%.” says David. The tone of his voice full of panic.

“David, I’m busy these days.”

“30%.”

“60%.” I know I’m pushing it.

“45% and that’s it!”

“You got yourself a deal, pretty boy.”

“God, you are evil, aren’t you? And don’t call me pretty boy, sounds gay.”

“Hey, you’re the one who woke me up with empty stomach. And if I didn’t know you that well, I’d think you were a homophobe.”

“Nah, I’m gay-friendly dude. I love gays. Gays are cool.”

“Ok, stop that. It’s getting weird.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow. Come over at 6.”

“6? I thought the place opens at 8!”

“It’s 6. There’s a wedding reception tomorrow, we need to prepare lots of things. And no backing out. I’ve got everything recorded.” he laughs.

“Jerk.” I say, but the bastard hangs up before I let out other creative curse words.

So I have this shift at the cafe shop in the morning, and a god-knows-how-big wedding reception in the evening. May be I’ll have to stay behind to help cleaning up. I bury my head deeper into the pillow, hugging the other closer, pull the blanket over my naked body. That 45% raise better be worth it.