“It’s a hole in the wall. They only serve one type of burger, but it’s pretty damn good. And their strawberry milkshake is the best thing in the world. What do you think?”
“Sounds good,” I said.
Alfie’s Kitchen was a small beachfront kiosk that sat atop a grassy hill. Like Rad had mentioned, the place looked unassuming, but the crowd of people waiting to be served suggested there was something special about the place. A canvas awning the color of sandstone extended from the brick front, casting a block of shadow over the sprawling lawn where a number of plastic tables and seats were scattered across the patchy grass. A girl in a crisp white uniform and bouncy ponytail stood behind the counter, taking orders while two chefs behind her worked away in the busy kitchen. The air was filled with the rich smell of fried onions and the sound of sizzling patties. As we progressed farther in the queue, I noticed several photographs of celebrities taped to the sides of the walls, burgers clutched triumphantly in their hands and grins plastered across their faces.
By the time we got our meals, the tables were all taken, so we made our way over to an empty park bench a short walk away. The bench sat near the edge of a rocky cliff and overlooked the ocean. The sky was growing dimmer by the minute, and aside from the crowd in the distance, we were now alone. Toward the horizon, a man was preparing to launch a large multicolored kite into the sky. “I come here pretty often,” said Rad, sitting down on the park bench.
“Yeah?” I said, sitting beside him.
“The light is beautiful this time of day, especially during the summer. The sunsets go on forever.”
“It’s nice here,” I agreed, pulling my burger from its brown paper wrapper.
I didn’t realize just how hungry I was until I took the first bite.
“Strange day, huh?” he said, taking a sip of his milkshake.
“Yeah,” I agreed. I felt queasy all of a sudden and put my burger down on the bench. My fingers gripped the wooden slats.
“Are you okay?” Rad asked. He put his burger down too and turned to face me.
“I’m okay,” I said, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “It just occurred to me that I’ve never known anyone who’s died before except my granddad, but I was just a kid at the time.”
“Me too,” said Rad quietly. For a moment, he had a faraway look in his eyes, and then he shuddered as though shaking off a memory. “Hey.” He turned to me. “Can we make a deal?”
“What kind of deal?”
“Let’s not talk about Ana tonight. The last few days have been a nightmare, and I just want to feel normal again. Even if it’s only for a few hours.” His eyes looked into mine. “Is that okay?” He extended his hand to me.
“Yeah,” I said, secretly relieved. I took his hand, and we shook on it. I noticed the strange coloring of his eyes again. I wanted to ask him about them but wasn’t sure how to bring it up without sounding rude.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked. “Do I have sauce on my lips or something?” He fumbled with his napkin.
I shook my head quickly, feeling the heat rise to my face. “No,” I said, looking away. Then I turned my head back to face him. “It’s just, well, your eyes. They’re amazing, incredible. Like, they’re really, really cool.” My words came out all fragmented, and I wondered whether he thought I was a complete idiot.
“Oh, you mean the heterochromia,” said Rad.
“Is that the scientific term?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he smiled. “I hated the fact that my eyes were different when I was growing up.”
“Are you kidding? I would love to have your eyes.”
“Well, we can swap if you want; I’m not that attached to them.”
“You don’t want my eyes. They’re kind of goofy. My mum says they’re too big for my face.”
“I think your eyes are really pretty,” he said and then looked immediately embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Of course not.”
There was an awkward silence.
“You know there’s this series where the main character has different-colored eyes,” I said.
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. His name is Spike Spiegel.”
“From Cowboy Bebop?”
I nodded. “Have you seen it?”
“Yeah, but it was a long time ago. It must have been when I was going through my anime phase.”
“I’m probably still in that phase.”
“You are? What’s your favorite?”
“Uh, Macross . . .”
“Which series of Macross?”
“Super Dimension Fortress.”
“That’s definitely the best one,” said Rad. He shook his head and smiled. “Talk about a trip down memory lane.”
“I can’t believe you’ve actually seen Macross. I don’t know anyone else who has.”
“Me neither, come to think of it,” said Rad.
“I tried to get my boyfriend to watch it with me once, but he wasn’t keen.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“Yeah, Duck.”
“You have a boyfriend named Duck?”
“Well, that’s what we all call him. His actual name is Brian Duckman.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” He picked up his burger again. “So how long have you been together?”
“Since we were kids, basically. But we have literally nothing in common.”
“No?”
I shook my head. “We disagree on just about everything. I can never play my music out loud around him. And he’s not really into books. But I suppose they say opposites attract.”
“He doesn’t read books?” said Rad.
“No. Well, actually, there’s a book he’s reading at the moment. I think it’s called Yes—Now What’s the Next Question?”
“Isn’t that a self-help book?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“I suppose you prefer fiction?”
I nodded. “Definitely.”
“What’s your favorite book?”
I thought for a moment. “The Land of Laughs, I think.”
“That’s a good one.”
“Do you remember the scene where Thomas is traveling through mountain towns while working on his father’s biography?”
Rad nodded.
“I think that’s always been my dream.”
“To write your dad’s biography?” There was a hint of a smile on his face.
I laughed. “Not exactly. But I would love to write something, maybe a book. I want to travel to a small town someday—one with fir trees and snowcapped mountains. Then I would spend an entire winter writing to my heart’s content.”
“I like the sound of that,” he said.
We were quiet for a few minutes.
“Actually,” he looked embarrassed, “I’ve been working on a book.”
“You’re writing a novel?”
“Yeah, I mean, it’s early days.”
“What’s it about?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure exactly. It’s a little hazy at the moment. I’m still waiting for the idea to come together.”
“I know what that’s like.”
“So I guess you’re working on something too?”
“Not really,” I said, looking away. “Only stuff for the school magazine.”
“Well, that still counts,” he said. “What have you been writing?”
“Mainly short stories. A few articles here and there.”
“Short stories are so underrated.”
“I know.”
“Have you read ‘All Summer in a Day’?”