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Rekindling

Part 1

Al Song

A part of me was thinking maybe I should've just stayed at my apartment during spring break, and driving to central Washington was just a long journey of discomfort and boredom, but my parents really wanted me back home.

It would've been nice to have someone to accompany me, but no one I knew was heading this way. Eventually the megalithic city skyscrapers flanking me eroded into suburban fiefs of cookie cutter homes and hulking supermarkets. Soon enough those were deconstructed into the sum of their parts as verdant trees and imposing walls of stone surrounded me. It was incredibly beautiful, but after driving through them for a goodly amount of time it all became monotonous. It took hours to get from Schoenblick to Baum Pointe. Okay, maybe it was just two hours, but it was two more than I wanted to drive.

It took a while for my ears to pop as they tried to adjust to the elevation heading into the Cascades. Thankfully, I had a four-pack case of caffeine in the passenger seat. Cherry was always my favorite 'Spark of Energy' flavor. The can was a garish array of blue and red with jagged yellow lines around the pair of cherries to show that they were being electrified. I probably should've been drinking something from a smaller company and be more conscious about my choices, but it was one of the few energy drinks I enjoyed. It also didn't leave a film of shame over my pointed teeth.

As I ascended the mountains, I chugged my second can to try to keep myself awake through the repetitive scenery with no radio. A bump rattled the car and I spilled some of the red fluid, thankfully it landed on my slacks and not my shirt. I was still wearing a business suit, since I went to brunch with some classmates trying to network with the grad students in the business school. Of course we had to have it in Schoenblick on the eastside, with all the yuppies and brogrammers. I was double majoring in business administration and nonprofit management, and when I took marketing in high school it really got hammered into me sayings like, 'Always be dressed for success,' and 'dress for the job you want,' which meant for the last seven years I wore a suit most days of my life. It always seemed like I was one of the few in the business school who saw any problems with capitalism or that class privilege was a thing, but maybe it was just that I had always gone against the grain. I wanted to start things like homeless shelters for queer youth and create Asian American historical museums and libraries. I didn't want to become rich or feed into a system that hurt people, but somehow that made me an outcast in my major.

Both of my parents were refugees from Laos, and I wanted to do them and other Lao-American folks some justice. Another goal was to help other queer people who felt alone and helpless, since it seemed like I was the only one growing up in the middle of nowhere, like Baum Pointe. The three of us were the only small-clawed otters in the town, and we definitely looked different from the other otters. Our features were smaller, but we worked harder, and my parents definitely made it.

My thighs were going numb, and I was getting a slight headache from the drive, but I was thankful it was only another couple minutes until I'd hit the weathered, wooden 'Welcome to Baum Pointe' sign. The fuel gauge showed that I was running on a quarter tank, so I pulled into the first gas station to stretch my frustrated, stubby limbs.

I inhaled a breath of fresh mountain air mixed with the nauseating fumes of gasoline. After locking the car I tossed the cans into the recycling bin and walked into the store. A fiery late nineties rock song blared from the bright orange stereo behind the register. A tall, chubby, brown rat was turned around placing scratch off tickets underneath their respective slots next to a display of lighters arranged in a bright and saturated rainbow

"May I have thirty on number four?" I asked the rat in his red flannel and highlighter yellow trucker hat. He probably didn't hear me over the music so I coughed and repeated my request.

"Sure, just a sec," he said as he scribbled something on a sheet of paper. The attendant looked over his shoulder and his golden eyes lit up delightedly.

"Ford?" I smiled at the familiar face.

"Charlie, it's been so long!" he shouted as he ran around the counter to give me a tight hug. "How've you been, bud?"

"Doin' good," I said trying to hug him back as he crushed my ribs. "Just on spring break."

"Nice," he said as he let me go. "I haven't seen you in forever."

"I know. I'm sorry," I said as I scratched the back of my head. "It's just been kind of a busy few years of school. I've done a couple internships and took more classes than I needed."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but it's good to know you're still a hard-worker," he shot me a big grin.

"Thanks, and I really am sorry for not messaging you more," I said averting my gaze.

"It's fine." He waved it off kindly. "You're busy with school I get that. I guess it just seems that way with a lot of people that graduated our year."

I nodded and said, "I guess we've all spread out around the country. I was also doing a study abroad program in Berlin last summer, and I visited my host family again during winter break."

"Yeah," he said, almost longingly. "Last time I saw you in person was our last summer break together."

"Almost three years." I started fidgeting. "Again, I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. You're here now," he said and the two of us hugged again.

"That's true... so, what have you been up to?"

"Oh, nothing much. Still living here. I started working here a couple months ago. I was kind of fired from the auto repair shop, since I kind of forgot to set my alarm clock a few times."

"That's a shame."

"Meh," he said nonchalantly. "I've learned not to do that for this job. It's your third year at UPNw, right?"

"Yeah, I'm a junior this year, and I'm currently living in an apartment with another student, since my roommate last year transferred to Spokane University."

"You dating him?" the rat asked and his whiskers faltered at the question. "Sorry, I'm not trying to sound like a dick. Just forget I asked."

"It's fine. I know you're not a homophobe. And no, I'm single. I dated a guy for a year and then he broke up with me out of the blue."

"I'm sorry to hear that." His ears and shoulders sunk a bit.

"It's alright. I'm over it... kinda." I smiled at the last word.

"So how's Seattle been?" he asked, and I was glad I didn't have to change the subject.

"Just like here. Rainy, but at least I'm surrounded by buildings, culture, and queer people."

"Isn't that, like, a slur?" he asked widening his eyes.

I just cocked my head at him.

"You're giving me that look." Concern filled his voice and face.

"What?"

He took a deep breath and said, "The one that says I said something ignorant or problematic, but you're not sure if you should respond, because you don't want to hurt my feelings."

"I'll explain it later, but yeah, I really needed to get out of here during high school."

"We're not all that lucky," he sighed looking out the glass door.

Then I caught myself. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"No, it's fine," he quickly interrupted, "and you don't need to keep apologizing. I mean I'm still here due to... various circumstances." He then grimaced at his last statement.

"That's sucky." I frowned.

"Honestly, it's my own fault that I didn't apply anywhere."

"Hey, it's never too late," I said trying to reassure him.

"Yeah, I know but," The rat was interrupted by the jangling bell on the door. He snapped his gaze to the entrance as an elderly wolf walked in and headed for the chips and candy section.

"I think I need to get back to work," he sighed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to take up your time," I said back to him.

"It's fine! You're helping me kill some time here." After a moment he rubbed the back of his neck and asked, "Hey, I know you're probably busy, but if you have some time do you want to hang out tonight?"

Warmth spread through me at his kind words, and I said, "Sure, I didn't plan anything for the next two weeks besides binging British game shows and practicing my business German."

"How about I pick you up from your place at seven-thirty?"

"Sounds like a plan!"

"Your parents still live at the same place, right?" he asked jokingly.

"They certainly do." I gave him a smile.

"Before you go," he said, then rang up a 'Hot Streak' scratch off ticket for me and paid for it.

"You know I don't gamble."

"It's my money, and it's only a dollar."

He rang me up for the gas, slid me the ticket, and I pocketed it.

I filled up my tank as I watched him help the wolf reach something from the top shelf of the bottled coffee section.

When I was done I waved at him and got back in my old, cherry red sedan and took off for my parent's house. It was only a few minutes after turning a couple times through the labyrinthine lanes of suburbia that I saw a creamy lemon house with milky trims.

A sense of warm nostalgia washed over me as I parked in the driveway. I remembered Ford in the passenger seat with his swim trunks and tank top on his lap excited to go swimming in my house. He usually felt self-conscious about his weight even though it was just my parents and me that would see him. I also pictured the time when my parents blindfolded me on my sixteenth birthday and walked me to the driveway. When they took off the blindfold I was staring at a sleek, new, yellow, Roam Lightning Bird. I was freaking out, and then they told me their old Kasai from the nineties was mine. Two thousand six was a disappointing year, but at least I got a car and my license. They also bought me a small laptop to make up for it.

"Hello? I'm home," I said as I opened the door and saw the two other small-clawed otters. My mom sitting at the computer reading an email as my dad was in the water watching a soccer match.

"Son! Welcome home!" my dad said in Lao.

"How was the drive? Are you hungry?" my mom asked as she gave me a big hug and kissed me bending back my whiskers.

"Good, my driving was..." I stammered. Ugh, I had to remind myself not to translate things directly from English to Lao. "Uh, it was a good journey. I'm, uh, I want to eat food." That was wrong. "I hunger for food." That was the correct way to say it. Seriously though, what happened to my Lao skills?

"We can speak in English," my dad said switching languages.

"Bo! Hao, uh, dang it! Hao, hmm, hao pak lao dai!" I stammered.

"Well, yes, we are able to speak in Lao," my mom said in English and cocked her head at me.

"I'm trying to say that I want to speak in Laotian with you guys."

"It's alright, Charlie," she said with some concern in her voice.

"You haven't spoken it in a while, right?"

"Yeah, but I guess I've always had a hard time expressing myself in it," I looked down and my mom hugged me tightly. "Both of you can speak Lao, at least I can still understand you."

"Alright, are you hungry?" my mom asked again switching back.

"Yeah, kind of."

"We made you dinner," my dad said, giving me a reassuring smile.

"Get cleaned up and join us in the water."

I tossed my luggage in my room, showered, and got in a pair of orange swim trunks emblazoned with stylized suns and glowing moons. After slipping into the lukewarm water I swam giddily. Apartments weren't always designed for aquatic folks, even in Seattle, where many folks like us lived, but I got used to being out of water. If I was really aching to swim then I'd hit up one of the pools at the University of the Pacific Northwest, which most people called 'Up Now,' since the abbreviation was UPNw. The basement of UPNw's Science and Technology library had a water study room which was a large, shallow pool, where students could wade while reading or getting homework done on floating desks. I met a buff water mink there, but he was dating this handsome, yet overprotective beaver, who wanted me to never set a paw in there ever again.

After a few laps around the living room I saw a movie commercial. There was a shot of the Space Needle, which piqued my interest, but then they cut to some young people at a pool party with the Cascades in the background. It was always bewildering to see movies take place in Seattle while they showed the actors swimming in an outdoor pool, since all public pools were indoor ones in the Pacific Northwest due to all the rain and cold. If someone owned a pool in a non-aquatic home here then it was still in the house. Of course Hollywood never cared to get anything right as long as it looked cool or was dramatic.

I grabbed the waterproofed remote and turned off the affront to verisimilitude as I paddled down the hallway to the dining area of the kitchen.

It was tough sitting cross legged in the shallow water, since I was used to sitting in chairs all the time instead of the floor.

My parents served up some mixed veggie fried rice for me as they had papaya salad.

"Can you guys make me some of that one of these days?"

"Do you really want some?" My dad asked. "We can whip up a vegetarian version of this for you."

"Can you teach me how to cook some Lao dishes?" I asked. "You really don't need to speak English with me around."

"Alright. Charlie, come on, you don't even know how to make rice," my dad said, and I frowned at him.

"Okay, if you really want to learn... then I guess we can teach you." My mom gave me a look filled with trepidation.

I watched my dad dice up some veggies and my mom mix together water, sugar, sauces, spices, lime juice, and some white powder from a jar with Lao writing on the lid. I definitely had to work on my reading and writing skills as well. They put it all together in a small bowl for me to try.

After I picked up some rice along with a pinch of the shredded vegetables, I popped it all in my muzzle and I was pleasantly surprised. The heat harmonized with citrus notes and the freshness of the crunchy veggies melded with the chewy rice. I washed it down with some sweetened soy milk from a carton, which helped abate the burning sensation on my tongue.

"Do you like it?" my mom asked.

"Yeah, it's pretty good. Thank you!"

"It was no problem at all, son. Now eat the fried rice, too. We don't want that to go to waste." My dad gave me a stern look, but I saw his tail swish in delight.

I did as I was told after polishing off the small bowl of salad.

I talked about school while my parents told me about the vacations they had gone on mostly about their trips to Hawaii to see family and their vacation in Laos. My mom was from the capital city of Vientiane and my dad was from the northern city of Luangprabang. The two of them always made jokes about how a country boy and a city girl found each other in a time of turmoil.

They said recently they started working at the same company in the accounting department, so they told me all the trials and tribulations of being in the office together. My mom said one of the managers thought they were plotting against him when they were speaking Lao together, and someone else told them it was rude to speak Lao, when all they were talking about was getting groceries.

After dinner a part of me was tempted to just get on my laptop and watch shows alone in my room, but then I didn't want to feel lonely and they hadn't seen me in years, so I knew I should spend time with them.

"Are you sure you want to watch a Thai soap opera with us?" my dad asked.

"Yeah, I want to do stuff with you guys."

"You won't understand what they're saying, but we can explain it to you," my mom offered.

I didn't know Thai, but my parents said that was what was on TV and in the newspapers and magazines in Laos, so it's how they learned it. Understanding the show was tough, but did my best to keep up, and surprisingly I was able to pick out some cognates. It was one out of every ten words that I understood, but I got most of it from context and from the explanations provided from my parents.

When it turned seven I was waiting outside on my phone in a tweed suit with a plaid tie and matching pocket square.

Ford's maroon pickup truck rounded the corner in the setting sun as the sky was turning into a dreamy orange.

I heard a pop after he pulled over and I hopped into the monolithic truck.

"Oh, I see you're dressing down tonight," he said grinning while motioning to my outfit.

"I just wanted us to match," I said pointing to my accoutrements. He was still in his cap and flannel.

"Are you hungry?" he asked and hugged me.

"I already ate dinner."

"Let's see, we can hit up a bar that serves meals and appetizers, and you can get drinks if you want."

"Sounds good to me," I said as we let go.

"I know of a place."

We drove to a place called 'Brent's Bar and Grill.' I had always seen it, but I never actually went into the establishment. I turned twenty-one in the winter.

We walked in and he held the door open for me.

The smell of booze and fried food flicked my snout as I stepped in. The walls were basically an ad space for different beers and liquor brands. The collection of bottles behind the wall was quite impressive for a small space.

He bought a few pull-tabs near the entrance with 'Hot Shots' in bold letters across their tops. There were little cartoon shots surrounded by fire on the little cards.

"Did you get anything from the scratch card from earlier?" he asked.

"Oh, I haven't looked. It's still in my wallet." I then fished it out.

"Cool, now we can play together."

We sat down at the bar, but it was still relatively empty. At one of the pool tables a lynx in an oversized cardigan and blouse played with a weasel in leggings and a denim jacket, who sunk a shot. The two cheered and they both took a drink from their glasses. A skunk and badger took turns at the electronic dart board, while a biker fox at the bar was hypnotized at the text messages from his phone.

I glanced through the menu for drink specials and the bartender came over.

"What can I get started for the two of you?" the red kangaroo asked.

"What's a 'Burning Photograph?'" I asked pointing to it on the menu.

"That's an old fashioned made from Firewall Whiskey," he pointed his thumb back to a large bottle with a label of a Coyote typing at a computer that was engulfed in flames.

"That sounds good to me, and no ice, please."

"Sure thing," the bartender said.

"Just a root beer for me and a portobello burger," Ford said. "Can I also get some hot sauce?"

"I'll let the kitchen know, then I'll get started on the drinks."

"Let's see if we're winners," the tall rat said and handed me a quarter.

The first two squares revealed flames and... an ice cube dribble on the third one.

"Mine's a loser."

Ford went through a few of his cards and then he exclaimed, "Yes! Twenty bucks! Let me treat you tonight."

"It's fine," I said quickly. "I can pay for my own drink."

"But I insist," he said.

"Do the two of you want to open up a tab?" the kangaroo asked.

"No, I'm good with just the one drink." I waved a paw in front of me.

"It's alright," the rat said reassuringly. "You definitely can have more."

"I don't want to get drunk tonight, since I want to remember my time out with you."

"Alright, that's fair," Ford said.

"No tab?" the bartender asked.

"We're good," he replied.

Soon the suave kangaroo served up our drinks, and I took a sip of my old fashioned.

The bittersweet cherry and orange notes tickled my tongue as the cinnamon whiskey burned on its way down. It tasted like the holidays, and then I frowned. Lao New Year was coming up, and recently I never did anything for any of the country's holidays.

When I was even smaller as an otter pup my family would make the drive to Seattle to attend temple, but my dad was never truly religious, and my mom got tired of the two hours weekly drive there and two hour drive back. I never really understood what was going on when we went anyway. It was during these times when we felt more connected to the Lao community, especially when it came to cultural and traditional events that happened in Laos.

"What's wrong?" Ford asked as a veggie burger with a side of fries was placed in front of him.

"Oh, just thinking," I said and took another sip.

"Is the drink not good?"

"No, this is amazing." I squeezed the glass with both paws as if I were giving it a warm hug. "I just thought about how Lao New Year's coming up and how much I'm lacking in knowledge when it comes to my own culture."

"Well, my family's historically from France, but there's a ton of materials out there to learn about France, and I remember you saying that there isn't a lot of reference stuff for Laos, at least in this town." He leaned closer to me and put his food down.

"Even the university libraries are kind of lacking, and it's more than just that though. I mean, like when I got home today I tried talking to my parents in Lao, and I forgot how to say basic things to them."

"It's not like you can't relearn those things." He pushed he plate to me and offered some fries.

I then popped one in my muzzle and let the warm starch comfort me, swallowed, and said, "I guess, but I just feel like I've let my Lao identity down. I did every club in high school, joined the tennis team, and took every AP and honors class I could. Now that I'm in college I've just been working every internship I can get into, since my classes are easier. I know I should be going to the LGBTQ center more, and actually helping out the community too, since it's another huge identity of mine."

"You still have the rest of your junior year and your entire senior year."

"That's true, ugh, I even missed a friend's twenty-first birthday party because I took on an extra shift, where I just made photocopies all night." I sighed, sulked, and ate another fry.

"Did you guys do anything the day after?"

"No, she stopped talking to me." I felt another sigh brewing in my throat.

"Oh," he said gently. "I'm sorry."

"This is why my ex broke up with me. I kept putting all of this before our relationship, and then I accused him of setting me up for failure." I stared into the warm shade of golden brown liquid shimmering in the glass in front of me.

Ford just remained quiet amongst the clinks, laughs, and chatter behind us.

"I just keep prioritizing the wrongs things, and I feel like I've wasted the last seven years of my life," I said and pushed the plate back to the tall rat. "Your food's gonna get cold. You can eat and maybe we can talk about something else."

"I can understand how you feel about wasting your life, but for me it's still kinda different," he said quietly. "I've just been floating around from one job to another when I get bored of them. I still don't know what I want to do with my life, and I feel like time's running out."

"I thought you said you wanted to become a musician. You loved band class and you always looked forward to your guitar lessons."

"Well, I sort of gave that up a long time ago." He then slowly bit into a fry.

"What happened?" I asked.

He swallowed and said, "Well, I learned that world's more complicated and competitive than I could've ever expected, whether that was with the guitar or the trombone. Plus, most people kept telling me there's no money in it, and I can't eat art, so maybe there's no real point."

"I can try to help if you want. We can make up some sort of plan."

"It's alright. At least my mom and stepdad are cool with me living at home for the rest of my life. The house is paid for." He took a sullen sip of his root beer. "I really need to get out of here."

"I am looking for a new roommate," I said.

"Would you really want me to live with you?"

"Of course! You're my friend! We've always gotten along, and it would help defray costs, but then again it's not like my parents aren't helping me make rent."

"Yeah," he said. "Most people I know are either living at home or getting help from their parents."

"Hopefully one day I can get by without an allowance from them, and I barely even call them." I looked down again. "I'm a bad child..."

"Don't say that. I'm definitely no better. Sometimes I go days without seeing my parents, but then again it's due to our schedules."

"Your mom owns and runs multiple bakeries, so it's not like it's your fault she's so busy. You said your stepdad travels a lot for work, right?"

"Yeah, he's a sales manager," he said, "and then my mom is a prime example of someone doing something they love as their job, but I can't even make above minimum wage."

"I know you can make it. You took AP calc with me. I know you're smart."

"Thanks, but I just..." he sighed. "It's hard. I don't know what to do."

I put my paw on his shoulder, and he gave me a wry smile.

"Despite the challenges and obstacles, I'll still believe in you." I smiled up at him.

"Thank you."

"I should be thanking you for being open and letting me be open about my guilty feelings."

"There's something else I wanted to tell you," he said and averted his gaze.

"What's up?" I turned to him as I sipped my drink.

"Well, I was originally inviting you here to tell you something pretty important, and I know you probably won't judge me."

"What is it? I definitely won't judge you," I said trying to show my support as much as possible.

"Well, I think we've got some things in common."

"Yeah, that's definitely true."

"But it's not just our taste in shows and music," he said an took another sip of his soda, and reacted as if it contained alcohol.

I nodded.

"You know how I never dated girls in high school?" he asked slowly looking into his root beer.

I nodded again.

"That's because I'm not into them."

"Oh, okay," I said gently. "You know you have my support." I just kept my expression the same, since the million-dollar reaction could be off-putting. It certainly was when I told a friend and she acted like she just won the lottery.

"I'm guessing you're cool with that."

"Yeah, I'm more than alright with that," I said with a smile. "I mean now I feel even less like an outsider."

"I'm sorry for not coming out to you sooner," he said with a grimace.

"It's alright. You really don't need to say sorry. Some people don't know or realize until later, and if you did know then I'm sure you had your reasons."

"I did," he sighed and ate another fry. "In high school I had a hard time even coming out to myself. When I saw guys that I liked I just told myself not to, and I was scared. After I realized I couldn't stop myself from feeling this way I told myself that I couldn't let anyone know."

"I can understand that. There are still situations where I find it wise not to tell people for my own safety."

"But you were the bravest person I knew. People treated you like garbage, but you kept moving forward. You were always so kind to me when we were in middle school, and I wanted to protect you, but I was afraid people would treat me the same way. Even though they called me names for standing up for you, I think it would've killed me to go through what you did." He took another drink and sighed. "I'm really sorry."

"For what?"

"Making it so that you were the only gay person at our school."

"Again, you don't have to apologize," I said gently.

"You know the apology is the official language of the State of Washington," he said and then chuckled.

"That's pretty accurate."

"It's the truth, and if you fail to apologize, then you become a social pariah."

"Speaking of being gay in high school, have you told anyone else?" I asked.

"No, you're the first." He nodded.

"Thank you for having sharing this with me."

"I have a feeling being this honest with others is going to be a harder feat."

"It can be," I said. "I mean coming out isn't just a onetime thing. It's something we keep doing as our lives go on."

"I kinda wish it were just a onetime deal. I feel a lot better but still queasy... So yeah, thank you."

"It's not prob, Ford."

"The party's here!" a large arctic fox yelled as he entered the bar wearing a garish football jersey and sunglasses followed by a vixen and tigress in matching outfits, who were pre-gaming together with beer cans in their paws, and lastly a rabbit blaring a stadium country song from his phone trailed behind them.

The biker red fox stood up and left without letting his gaze veer. The duo at the pool tables exchanged glances and followed suit. The bartender sighed as one of the dart players cursed when they missed the board completely.

The rat then asked for a box as I polished off my drink.

"Shall we?" Ford asked.

"Take the lead," I responded.

We headed to the truck as a few drops of rain splattered against our shelter as dark clouds heading down from the north while we watched the sky turn orange in the setting sun.

"Wanna head to the park and watch the sunset?" Ford asked.

"Sounds good to me."