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It was always easy with Nigel. He never made Adam feel like he was different. He knew he was, they both knew, but it didn’t mean Adam had to be treated like he was some fragile porcelain doll.
The summers of 1984 and 1985 were the best times of Adam’s life. Nigel would drive him around in his truck, to the edge of the town, under the most breathtaking sunsets he had ever seen. The oranges and the pinks were always so vibrant, illuminating Nigel in a cinematic glow. Adam could have died right then and there, in August 1985, and felt fulfilled.
The only thing missing would have been kissing him. Then it truly would have been perfect.
Every night, they would lay in the pickup’s bed and look up at the night sky for hours. There was no light pollution, and Adam could see more stars than he ever had in his life. Eventually, the wind would rise, and Adam would shiver. Nigel lent him his jacket more than once. Adam’s heart would squeeze in his chest every single time, the air punched out of his lungs. He’d forget his own coat multiple times. He thought Nigel would realize Adam was doing it on purpose, with a purpose, but he never did. If he did, well, he never brought it up.
Adam would stay with his dad every summer since 1979. His parents got a divorce when he was 11, and his mom almost got full custody. His dad had fought in court for the right to still be in his life. His father got Adam for two months out of twelve. Adam was glad for him. He was more patient than his mother ever was. His house was smaller, and it wasn’t much, but it was filled with a warmth Adam didn’t get the other ten months. The warmth of a Home. He would watch TV with his father every night before Nigel would pick him up, the same shows at the same time. His dad would make Adam a pb&j every morning, at the same time. It was a routine; it was good.
The small farm town was peaceful. It soothed Adam’s nerves. So far away from the city, he felt like his soul could finally breathe, like he was rejuvenated, reborn. He would walk down the dirt roads, past the corn fields. So far past civilization that when he would turn around, it felt like the whole world had vanished.
In July of 1984, a boy and his mom moved to town. Adam’s father had offered to help them move their furniture and boxes in and they accepted his hospitality. That’s the fateful day Adam’s life changed.
A boy around his age leaned against the doorway sipping a glass of lemonade. His golden strands were sticking to his forehead. He grabbed the front of his damp white t-shirt and fanned it, trying to get some air to circulate through his clothes. He was the most beautiful sight Adam had ever seen. The boy locked eyes with him, and Adam averted his gaze.
Adam helped his dad bring a coffee table in, depositing it into their vacant living room. He went back outside and grabbed a cardboard box labeled ‘Nigel Room’, written in boxy letters with a black marker.
“Let me take that from you; it’s pretty heavy.” The boy’s fingers brushed against his when he took the box, relieving Adam’s sore arms.
“Thank you… Nigel.” Adam still couldn’t make himself look him in the eyes.
“Thank you ,” He chuckled, and Adam decided he wanted to hear him laugh. A real, true laugh that would come from his core. “You and your dad didn’t have to help us.”
“That’s true.”
Adam looked up through his lashes at the taller boy’s lips. He was smirking.
“Adam!” His dad called him over to help him with another piece of furniture.
They stayed until the moving truck was completely empty, helping the new residents settle in. Adam didn’t want to leave. He wanted to talk to the boy more. He stood on their porch, unable to make himself follow his dad.
“Want to go for a ride?” Nigel had asked, leaning against the doorway like he had that morning. “I’d like a tour of the town. Wanna be my guide?”
Adam smiled. He had never wanted anything more.
Nigel’s truck became Adam’s favorite place. Nigel, his favorite person.
Adam missed him during the 10 months he spent at his mother’s, states away. Nigel and he would call each other once a week. They called every night, at the start, but then quickly learned the phone bills were stacking up. Once a week wasn’t much, but it was good. They sent each other letters too, once in a while, to have something tangible. Seeing Nigel’s handwriting made him feel closer, present. He couldn’t wait to see him again.
And then summer of ‘86 rolled around, and it was the worst thing that ever happened to Adam.
The old, rusted pickup’s engine had finally revved to life. It had taken a couple more tries than usual. Nigel had grinned, looking at Adam. His smile and enthusiasm were always contagious. But this time, Adam couldn’t help but feel sick. They had just left Nigel’s girlfriend’s house. He had kissed her on the couch while Adam had tried to keep his tears from spilling out.
Nigel couldn’t stop talking about her any chance he got. He’d gush about how kind and beautiful she was. How kissing her felt. He looked completely obsessed with her. Adam’s entire body twisted painfully, his soul aching. It felt like being gutted every single time Nigel spoke her name.
Gabi this, Gabi that.
“- and we looked at the stars, in the corn field-”
“You brought her to our spot?” Adam asked in a broken voice, a lump rapidly forming in his throat.
Nigel’s smile fell and Adam found some sick enjoyment in bursting his bubble.
“You say that like I can’t bring anyone there.”
Adam felt the tell-tale sign of overwhelming anger rise in his chest. His throat burned, his nails dug in his palms, fists clenched. “I just-” He took a deep breath in and closed his eyes shut, trying to calm his fury. He had been keeping it all inside, tucked away deep in his ribcage since he first met Gabi at the start of July, almost two months ago. He couldn’t keep it in anymore. He was a time bomb. “I just thought I was the only one you brought there…”
Nigel huffed, “I have other friends, Adam.”
It was only a matter of time. Adam exploded. He had never had an outburst in front of Nigel. Being with him was supposed to be easy. Being with him was calming. Being with him was safe.
Not anymore.
He punched his own thigh with so much force that one hit alone would have left a deep purple bruise. But he continued, punch after punch after punch. Nigel tried to grab his wrist and Adam hit him in the chest with his other arm.
“Don’t touch me!” He had screamed, the sound too loud in Nigel’s truck.
“Have you gone fucking crazy, what are you doing?!” Even through his anger, he sounded concerned.
Adam sobbed, throat tight and raw. He couldn’t bear to look at the hurt in Nigel’s eyes. He jumped out the parked truck, slamming the passenger door hard enough for the truck to rattle.
He ran home and never looked back.
That was the last time he ever saw Nigel.
Adam left for his mom’s house the day after his meltdown.
He started college in September of the same year and moved into the dorms, away from his mom’s cold and detached attitude. He was finally free, but his heart ached terribly. It longed for the countryside, for his father’s house, for the boy who lived across the street. He yearned for the sound of crickets and for the clear night skies, and for the old truck that smelled of cigarettes. He thought of picking up the phone often, to reconnect with Nigel and apologize. But the shame was too strong; he couldn’t make himself do it. And eventually, too much time had passed. It felt like his window of opportunity to do it had permanently closed.
His dad would come to New York to visit him sometimes, and Adam was grateful for it. He’d ask him to come spend the summer at his house and Adam would refuse. For years, Adam didn’t set foot in the farm town again.
Until his father died when Adam was 22. He would be buried near the old chapel, in the cemetery of his hometown, a home his father never left. He died where he was born.
Adam shows up early to the funeral. He stares with vacant eyes at the black closed casket. A bouquet of white tulips lay on top of it, the only bouquet. A small note is attached to it. Adam recognizes the handwriting instantly.
‘I will always be grateful for your presence in the lives of my mother and me. You were a light in the dark, Joseph. I would have liked to have kept the promise I made you. I am sorry I couldn’t honor that. I hope you are resting in peace.
-Nigel’
Adam traces the boy’s name with his thumb. His eyes water. Nigel still cares.
Nigel is still here.
Steps resonate in the chapel and Adam turns to see a tall man stand in the doorway, illuminated by the glow of the afternoon sun. He changed, but at the very same time, he hasn’t changed at all. Adam can still see the bright boy with the deep laugh. The boy with the broken truck.
“Hey.” His voice is lower than Adam remembered.
“Hi.” He clears his throat, looking away as Nigel approaches him. “T-Thank you for the flowers you gave my dad.”
“It was the least I could do.”
Adam only nods, swallowing around a lump in his throat.
“What was the promise?” He asks his question so quietly that he’s not sure Nigel heard it.
The other man doesn’t reply. Adam can feel his gaze burn into his face. He dares to look back at him, locking eyes with him for the first time in four years.
Nigel’s face softens as he exhales, deflating like an invisible weight has been lifted off his shoulders.
“I promised to look after you.”
Adam’s breath gets stuck in his throat, his heart stopping. “Why?”
Nigel takes another step forward, standing two feet away from Adam.
“I was on your porch with your dad, one night, waiting for you to come outside. I told him I was going to drive you to the east fields. He told me to be careful.” He clears his throat. “He made me promise, with a hand on my heart, to look after you.” He swallows and breaks eye contact, staring out the chapel’s window at the corn fields. “It meant more to me than just getting you home safe. I took it farther. I wanted to take care of you.” He looks down at his shoes. “I failed.”
Adam stares at him in silence, unable to form an answer. A gust of wind blows in from the open door, making Adam shiver. The November air is unforgiving, and Adam’s coat is in his aunt’s car. Nigel takes off his brown leather jacket and hands it to him. Their fingers brush when he takes it from him. It sends a spark of electricity through his body. He puts the jacket on and crosses his arms over his chest.
“I’m sorry,” Adam whispers.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Nigel says with a slight frown on his face.
Adam nods. “I do. I’m sorry for the way it ended. I was so angry, I wasn’t thinking. I- I had a hard time regulating my emotions at that age-”
Nigel shakes his head, “Hey, I’m not mad at you…” He hesitates, “I didn’t know that place meant that much to you.”
It’s Adam’s turn to shake his head. “You don’t understand.” Nigel tilts his head. Adam wraps his arms tighter around himself, closing his eyes to relish in the warmth of Nigel’s jacket. It smells like him. Marlboro cigarettes and anise. “It wasn’t about the place. It was about it being an us thing. I wanted it to be for just you and me. It was selfish. I didn’t want you to have any friend in your life that wasn’t me. Because you were the only one I had.” He inhales after having blurted it all out in one breath.
“Were you angry when I would hang out with Johnny and Thomas?” There is no judgment in his voice.
“I was… But not as much as I was when you were with…” Adam closes his eyes tightly. He feels so stupid and immature for still feeling angry about this. About her .
“With Gabi,” Nigel finishes for him.
Adam feels his lips quiver, and his eyes fill with tears. He nods, eyes still closed. He’s afraid of what he will see on Nigel’s face when he opens them again.
He hears Nigel take a deep breath in, holding it in and exhaling.
“Every single time I looked into her big blue eyes, I thought of yours.”
Adam’s eyes snap open, a stray tear rolling down his cheek.
Nigel smiles fondly. He puts his hand on Adam’s cheek and wipes the tear away with his thumb.
“There they are. Your beautiful eyes.” His breath over Adam’s cheek sends a shiver down his spine. “Would you like to hear the full truth?”
Adam nods, wrapping his hand firmly around Nigel’s wrist, to have a grasp on reality, to make sure Nigel is really here, that this is really happening.
“I was with her because I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I thought being with her would chase those feelings away.” He exhales in a humorless laugh. “It just made me more miserable. I thought that if I tried really hard to love her, then eventually I would.” He brings his other hand to Adam’s cheek, cupping his face. Adam doesn’t let go of his wrist. “But it never worked. I’d drive out to the middle of the fields, alone, and wish you were beside me.”
“Really?” Adam whispers. He holds his breath.
Nigel grabs Adam’s hand and holds it to his heart, putting his larger hand over it. Adam can feel the thudding of his heartbeat, can feel the warmth of his skin through the layers of clothing.
“I swear.”
Adam doesn’t know what else to do but kiss him. He has waited seven summers for this. More tears fall down his face when Nigel kisses back. His lips are soft, softer than they were in Adam’s imagination.
He wishes he could have kissed him like this in his truck back in ‘85, when the crackly radio played that new Bryan Adams song, and Nigel would play the air guitar and sing along with the wrong lyrics. The radio would cut out, but Nigel would keep singing. Adam would laugh and fall in love with him all over again every single time.
Nigel smiles in the kiss and Adam smiles back, one of his hands still on Nigel’s rapidly beating heart.
“Come home with me after the funeral. My mom misses you.” He kisses him on the cheek. “I’ll make you that special lemonade you used to love so much, if it sweetens the deal.”
Adam grins. “I only liked it because you were the one making it. It was very normal lemonade.”
Nigel throws his head back and barks out a laugh. “Ouch.”
Adam joins in the laughter, wrapping his arms around Nigel’s waist. The other man puts his arms around his back, holding him tight against his body, so tight that Adam could never dream of escaping his grip. Not that he would want to.
He wishes he could tell his dad that Nigel kept his promise.