A Sunrise On the East Side

The next morning was just as typical as the others had been with the small exception of having a groaning Shawn and a moaning Jason join me for breakfast as they held their heads. I stifled my giggles at them, holding back my jabs about how they should have only had the two drinks like I had. I had also been up all night though and I certainly couldn't tell them that had helped as well. Shoving some aspirin their way, I kept my mouth shut and handed them the hangover food I had perfected while in Michigan. They had grimaced at the greasy burritos but made no comment when they found the cheap Mexican food worked wonders. After that, they stayed until the late morning, working off their headaches with a movie with me before heading home.

A few days went by, the same routine I had fallen into continuing. I cleaned, moving on to stocking all my movies and books in the attic since I had finally received all the boxes from my mom. I went to get coffee during lunch, working on my laptop in the small shop or going to the park across the street. Then I would go to Shawn's to see him and Jason or meet them both as random stores to walk around the city and do some spontaneous shopping. It was an easy routine, something I enjoyed. It was making everything feel like I had wanted it to. Like I could do just fine here, even without the company of my father.

He was still working his ridiculous hours, coming home after midnight and leaving before nine. I could spend days wondering how he functioned on so little sleep and if I was an insomniac by genetics. But another weekend was fast approaching as they often did, and he was promising that he was going to be sure to be home. I wasn't sure what he thought we could do together. Go to the movies? Play catch in the backyard like we had when I was little? Troll the city and make fun of things we thought were ridiculous? We weren't disconnected. We were just both adults now and would probably have a hard time agreeing on a plan.

So I also spent a lot of time wringing my hands over that. If it came down to it, I knew we would end up talking about my life the past eight years. This is what made me most nervous. Though I had no problem relaying most events, it would probably require letting him know that I had many of the same issues he did. I didn't want to disappoint him that way. I would much rather show him that I had inherited all his good traits. It was simply no use trying to force all of those out though.

It took longer than I thought it would for Shawn to realize that I hadn't been present the entire time at that last party. Eventually, after two days, he finally did begin questioning where I had gone that night. At first, I simply refused to tell him. It wasn't a secret by any means, but I knew he would make assumptions. I didn't need to hear about feelings I didn't have for Jack. It turned into me just finding it hilarious to watch him squirm with the anxiety of not knowing. Like the gay boy he was though, he had it out of me before too many days had gone by. Threatening worked well to make sure the words like or crush didn't pass his lips in relation to the situation. But I also didn't mention the odd sensations either.

His only response was to nod and purse his lips as he looked around the store we were in. He was pretending not to care, to simply brush it off like he had no questions about it at all. But I could see through his facade and easily watched the struggle over if he really wanted to risk asking if there was something going on with the whole bedroom meet-up. I wasn't going to push it. I kept my mouth shut from saying anything that would make him go either way and wandered away from him to go look at rings. Thankfully, he didn't follow me and I could deal with this small obsession alone. But before I got there, I spotted a familiar face.

Because of finally talking about the other night, I had partially been expecting to randomly see Jack. That seemed to be the way it worked anyway. He wasn't the one I recognized though. This boy was shorter; not quite Jack's height, but definitely not mine. His buzzed hair was much different than what I remembered on him, but his face was hard to forget. Especially since I still saw his face from time to time on various blogs, and because I had just been talking about a boy he was friends with.

"Robert Dawson!" I exclaimed as I approached him. His back was turned to me now, but I was confident he'd remember me. And that was mostly because I was the only person who chose to constantly call him by his first name.

He spun around to glare at the person who wasn't using the name he was accustomed to. But the expression didn't last long. "Kenley?" he questioned, stepping forward because he clearly already knew it was me. "I heard you were back," he stated, and opened his arms for a hug.

I obliged easily, a smile spread across my lips. "For a couple weeks, yeah," I chuckled, pulling away from him. Though he was an average height, I still had to look up at him. "Who'd you hear from? Do you still hang out with the guys?" I wondered aloud, adjusting my large bag on my shoulder.

Robert -or rather Rian, as he was called by everyone else- and I used to spend Saturday nights with a bunch of other guys and a few girls. It was my rebellious stage, doing a ton of things I shouldn't have, so I couldn't say that we were always sober. It wasn't the only thing that held a select few of us together though, and I had been able to call Rian a closer friend until I left.

He shook his head, interrupting my reverie. "Nah, I haven't really talked to them since sometime after you left. The group kind of just disbanded without your bubbly spirit," he laughed, all his teeth shining. "I stopped smoking, too, though. So that didn't help in seeing them much. But no. Uh, Jack told me. I guess he's your neighbor?" He was unsure if this piece of information was being remembered correctly, and he portrayed it that way.

I put the smile back on my face. "Used to be, actually. Just his mom now," I corrected. I wasn't going to play dumb and ask how the two boys knew each other just to keep up conversation. "We're going to have to hang out sometime. I bet it'll be a lot more fun now," I predicted. I saw him patting around for his phone while I reached around to get mine from my back pocket. I couldn't help but be happy that he was willing to bring back old times, even without recreating them.

With a quick exchange of numbers, we were set to make plans sometime soon. "It was great to see you, Kenley. I'm glad you're back in Maryland," Rian stated, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"Same. And me, too. It's nice to be home," I responded with a light grin. Shawn was looking at shirts not too far behind us, eyeing us in curiosity. Quickly, I went to hug Rian once more so he wouldn't have to suffer Shawn's questioning, and promised to call him soon. We waved to each other as we headed in opposite directions, departing to join the people we had come with.

Shawn's mouth opened before I was even ten feet away from him, too anxious from earlier to hold things in now. "Was that Rian Dawson? Don't tell me you kept in touch with him all this time. Him and the rest of those delinquents were a bad influence on you," he ranted, one hand on his hip while the other pushed cloths apart rapidly. He kept shaking his head with every word, his eyes cast down so he didn't have to look at me.

I just stared at him, standing off to his side with my arms crossed over my chest. I didn't want to interrupt his complaining, but simply staying silent would also probably make him see sense. That didn't happen though. He avoided meeting my gaze, going through the rack once more. "These are women's shirts. Gay or not, you still don't wear tunics," I pointed out, forcing him to look up. "And secondly, no, I haven't kept in touch with him. But we used to be friends, and I'd like to hang out with him again. Neither of us do that sort of thing anymore, so it's not like we're going to be hanging out in my basement, getting stoned," I explained, making him understand. That had all been a long time ago, but how I had acted seemed to have stuck with him. Eight years too late, it was starting to make me feel guilty.

He sighed, dropping both hands to hang at his sides. "You're friends with everyone," he reminded, fighting the smile that was creeping onto his lips. He wouldn't stay angry for too long. It was his nature. "And maybe I wasn't looking for me. This would look great on you," he claimed, ripping a random hanger from the rack and holding it up to my small frame. That was it. He wouldn't force me to feel bad about the things I had done that I already spent time feeling bad about.

He was right, the shirt did look good on me. He had pushed me into the dressing room and then declared it would be for my birthday present since he just wanted to buy something for me. I would pout and beg to try to get it earlier, but I would be just as excited to get it in August. We were fine after that, spending the rest of the day at my house and calling Jason so we could all make dinner together. Again, it was nice to fill the house with conversations and laughter, even though it wasn't my family. And by a stroke of luck, my father came home early as we were filling our plates. My grin was unstoppable, beyond ecstatic that he could join us.

Things, for the night anyway, seemed to be going perfect. I was with my closest friend and the boy he loved shamelessly, along with my father whom I couldn't deny I missed being around. Elation coursed through my veins the rest of the night, even sticking around when I hugged Shawn and Jason goodbye. Perhaps starting the weekend early, my dad and I sat in the living room with hopes to find something to watch together. As I flipped through the channels -and realized that he was pretty out of date with everything that was airing- he happily announced that he was able to take tomorrow off so we could take a day and then pick back up on Saturday.

Automatically, I bit my lip, setting the remote down gently on the coffee table. Glad that we got to spend time together or not, I was still worried we wouldn't be able to find some common ground. I thought this little TV excursion proved me right. I was worried about saying something though, second guessing myself even as my mouth opened. "That's great, dad," I managed to change my words at the drop of a hat. "I'm sure we'll have a ton of fun." As I said it, I knew I wasn't lying through my teeth. I truly believed we would eventually find something we both enjoyed.

We spent a while longer sitting together, watching a marathon of one of the many ghost shows that took up an hour of people's lives now. He was particularly intrigued by all of this, not caring that a lot of it was over exaggerated. Though it was amusing how into it he got, I couldn't handle another hour of it and decided to go to my room to beg for tonight to be the night that I slept the whole way through. I kissed his cheek with a chuckle before I got up, and watched his smiling face as I ascended the stairs.

Pulling the blankets up over me the moment I hit the bed, I lay there in the complete darkness of the room. It wasn't silent, the sound of crickets seeping through the open windows. The ceiling was the focus of my eyes once more and it stayed that way for hours. The only time I didn't see it was when I blinked. Until the room was no longer pitch black, turning grey, then blue, then the indistinguishable color of sunlight and the crickets faded as the morning sent them away was how long I stared at the spot above my bed. I heard my father stomp up to bed not long after I had, probably thinking I was too deeply asleep to hear. I wished I was. I wished I could get any sleep, even if it meant waking up to that sound.

The sun had been up a good two hours when I finally made the decision to get up. Emerging from my room, I basked in all the quietness of the morning. It was much different than when it was silent in the afternoon or evening. This was when there was supposed to be no sound, everyone still in their sleepy states if not just sleeping. Thinking of this peacefulness, I tiptoed my way down the stairs and to the kitchen. It felt wrong turning the coffee maker on, breaking the silence I loved so much.

Just like the night and the chirping of the crickets, that silence faded into the noise of the morning. The two sides were so different, yet both so essential. I wasn't alone for as long as I had anticipated, especially since I was accustomed to being alone everyday at this time. My dad joined me at the table after treating himself to a cup of coffee. Right away, he began inquiring about what we could do. After a series of yawns from me that were impossible to stifle, I suggested going to Baltimore to wander around the harbor for a while. He seemed to like that idea because he automatically took a large gulp of coffee and retreated back upstairs to change.

I glanced at the clock, knowing I really didn't want to leave until at least noon. So it took me a little longer to decide to leave the table and perhaps longer still to shuffle into the bathroom to get ready. It was still too early when I met him again in the living room and he declared it was the perfect time to head out. I suppressed my groan and followed him out to his car, continuing to trail after him in a stupor from my lack of sleep. He didn't seem to notice that he had much more energy than his daughter who was supposed to be spry and outgoing. But he seemed to be just as glad when we found a restaurant and were able to sit down for lunch.

"You seemed to really enjoy that show last night," I pondered after we had both ordered. I dragged my water toward me, tearing the bit of wrapper off the straw so I could take a drink.

My dad laughed as he pulled his own glass toward him. I watched a drop of condensation run down to the table before focusing on him again. "All that yelling at things they couldn't even see." He shrugged, "I don't know. It made it interesting, even if there may not even be such a thing as hauntings."

I giggled, nodding in agreement.

Once I got him talking, it wasn't hard to keep up conversation. I couldn't even see reason for why I had been so ridden with apprehension over us spending time together. It didn't take any time at all, it seemed, to realize that he wasn't Brendan Fraser and his family in Blast From the Past. He didn't shut himself underground for years, not even paying attention to big events that took place in the world except for the one that put him there. So he wasn't as compulsive about seeing all the new movies or checking out every new television series like I was. It wasn't a big deal at all. We still found that we enjoyed so many of the same things.

He was telling me about his favorite movie when our food arrived, and I couldn't help to continue to lean forward as I listened and ate. The movie didn't sound good at all, in all honesty. But he had a knack for describing every detail in full and I could picture everything he said. The only thing that pulled me away was the ring of my phone and the jump from me that followed.

Apologizing, I picked my phone up from where it sat on the table and looked at the screen. The number was only that: a number, meaning it was someone who wasn't in my contacts. I sighed, not wanting to deal with a random telemarketer before answering and pressing it to my ear. "Hello?"