“So how did you become so close?”
“Oh. Well . . .” I reach for my coffee and take a drink. “Compared to other foster kids, I didn’t have it so bad. I lived with plenty of nice people. Just no one who wanted me permanently. A few not-so-great people, but, overall, no one really crazy or mean.” Despite a second of hesitation on my part, I notice how easy it is to continue with this story. “But the family who’d taken in Steffi and me had also taken in two boys, both of whom were a few years older than us. One day after school, I came home. I shared a room with Steffi . . .” I pause. God, I haven’t thought about this in ages.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Esben says quietly.
“I do want to.” I know this as much as I know that I need to breathe. “I found her in our room with one of the guys, but I knew right away that I hadn’t just walked in on them fooling around. He had her pinned to the bed, and her expression was . . . all wrong. Scared, paralyzed . . .”
Esben visibly tenses and is clearly very shaken by my words. “Jesus, Allison . . .”
I make my speech confident, reassuring. “It’s okay. Really. Because when I saw the way her shirt was torn off her shoulder, when I understood that his weight was crushing her, I moved. Fast. It took me about two seconds to rip this guy off of her.” I almost laugh. “Who knew I was so strong? But I slammed him into the dresser so hard that its mirror shattered. Then I punched him and gave him a massive black eye. The look on his face was priceless.” Now, I’m actually grinning at the memory. “I still know exactly what I said to him. I won’t repeat it, but there were a lot of threats of severe bodily harm to parts he did not want injured. Then I called up her caseworker and mine and screamed at both until my voice was raw. The guy was removed from the house about an hour later.” I tuck my knees up and rest my head against the back of the sofa. “And that was that.”
“And you were friends ever since?”
“Ever since,” I confirm. “What’s funny, though, is that she’s rarely let me help her after that. I try, but she’s pretty independent. Strong as anyone could be, really, and she’s always doing more for me than she’ll let me do for her.” I smile. “She mothers me in a way, I guess, which I can’t deny feels nice.” I realize that I’ve just talked more to Esben than anyone besides Steffi. It’s damn wonderful, but, still, I dig my fingers into my knees. But the good outweighs the bad, without a doubt. “Now that I’ve told you all my drama and trauma, tell me about you. I bet you have less garbage to share, and I would like to hear something happy.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Anything . . . tell me about your sister.”
“Kerry is amazing. I know she got you involved in the video, but I promise you’ll like her.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t have anything against her.”
Esben throws an arm over the back of the couch and drops his head to the side. “Just me?”
“No. Not you either.”
“I’m glad.”
Neither of us says anything for a moment.
“So, anyway, Kerry . . . she’s an art major here, and she’s really talented. Drawing, painting, sculpture, she does it all. Oh, here’s a fun fact. She calls me Baby Blue.” He leans forward, his eyes sparkling. “Wanna know why?”
I laugh. “I do.”
“I was born with a congenital heart defect called pulmonary valve stenosis. It wasn’t a big deal, and it healed on its own over time, but I was unattractively blue at birth. When I was, like, twelve or so, and Kerry was eleven, she somehow found out about this, and for weeks, all she did was obsess over the fact that I’d been blue. She thought it was a riot, although my parents were not amused at how much she totally delighted in it, because they’d obviously been scared at the time. So, she started calling me Baby Blue and never stopped.”
“I don’t like that you were born with a heart condition, but I do really like her nickname for you. It’s very cute.” I am sinking into my spot on this sofa with more tranquility than I could have imagined. “Esben?”
“Yes, Miss Allison?”
“Thank you for making this easy on me.”
“I’m not doing anything. This is all you.”
I’m not sure if he’s right. “Either way, talking with you . . . it’s nice. It feels good. You’re probably used to this. I mean, people must thank you all the time.”
“Sometimes.” He gives me an utterly disarming grin. “And sometimes they come to my room all drunk and cute and yell at me.”
I hide my face in my hands for a second and laugh. “I’m serious. You obviously have an easy time being with people, listening to them, relating. All of it. I’m surprised you’re not totally full of yourself. I . . . I will confess that I thought you’d be more . . . I don’t know. Smug. Because you probably should be.”
“I get a lot back from the people I meet. They give me more than I’m sure I give them. I love meeting strangers, learning about what’s beyond first glance. Discovering everyone has a hidden story, a reason for their behavior.” He’s so thoughtful and earnest that he only enchants me more. “Sometimes simply getting someone to share frees them, maybe makes them examine who they are and change. I’m just planting seeds most of the time, offering opportunities. What’s so special is watching people learn about themselves. I try to help out when I can. And do you know how many times I’ve been completely blown away by the kindness of others? The willingness of people to share or give or help out? I know tons of people out there suck, I do. But mostly, Allison, people are good. They really are. And I am lucky enough to get to witness so much of that good.”
“You get a lot of attention for what you do. That can’t feel shitty,” I say, a bit challengingly.
His eyes sparkle a bit, and the half smile he delivers is too adorable for words. “Well, sure. To some degree. But my posts are not really about me. I actually try to avoid being in most, but there are invariably ones that I’m a part of. As you know.” He slips in a quick wink before continuing. “Usually, though, I try to keep the focus on other people.” He stops, and, just for a second, I see the nervousness he’d mentioned earlier. “I do not, however, go out to coffee with them. You’re the first.”
I look out the café window and watch a mother and daughter walk past. I feel a twinge of pain. I will never have a mother, and I’m lost in this dismay for a few minutes before I can return to Esben. As I’m coming to learn, he seems fine with me doing that. “Maybe you feel obligated to go out for coffee with me because of the kiss. Because your followers are all worked up about it.”
“Allison,” Esben says firmly. “Look at me.”
So I do.
“I don’t feel an obligation to do anything. I never do. It’s not how I operate. I’m here because I want to be. I’m the one who didn’t want that kiss to stop, so I’m the one wondering if you feel an obligation to be here. Maybe you’re just making peace with what went down. Finding closure.”