"Yo, you guys know Estella's friend with the headscarf?" Oliver said as we all sat on his back porch.

"Sadaf?" I said, and Oliver nodded.

Brice chuckled. "I should probably learn Estella's friends' names, too. What's the Asian one's name?"

"Mi Yun," I replied.

Brice wagged a finger. "Mi Yun and Sadaf."

"I have quite a difficult time recalling people's names as well," Tyler confessed, and that was no surprise.

"Can I say what I wanna say?" Oliver jumped in with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Take it away," I said, and he smiled.

"Well, lately we've been talking," he went on. "She's a pretty cool girl. She has amazing taste in music. We don't have small talk, and once we start, we can talk for hours about the serious stuff in life. The things we talk about don't even have to do with Islam."

I stared at him. "Oliver, you do know that one thing doesn't define a person, right?" He nodded. "Me being Hispanic and a Spaniard doesn't define me. Being black doesn't define Brice, Tyler or Estella. Being Muslim doesn't define Sadaf."

"I know," Oliver said, "and I definitely know that now."

Brice clasped a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "When are you guys gonna start dating?"

Confusion spread on Tyler's face. "Dating? Oliver informed us that he and Sadaf are on speaking terms. How does that insinuate a romantic relationship?"

"Not that type of talking, Tyler," Brice said. "By 'talking,' he means the weird period right before people become exclusive."

"Why don't they just imply that?" Tyler said, and I kind of agreed with him.

Humans just had to be complex creatures with so many cultures attached to them. People didn't realize how confusing the little cultural references could be for an outsider. I only knew about it through my parents when they used to talk about their assimilation into American culture when they first moved here from Spain.

Tyler was American, but I was aware of his struggles with social situations and people. That included certain implications about different aspects of sociality, such as dating. I was shocked the first time he told us about Bree, his girlfriend. Then again, she was autistic, too, so maybe they understood each other in that regard.

Then again, they could probably bond over different things. Tyler wasn't defined by his autism.

Brice shook his head in amusement. "That's why we're here, Tyler. We're gonna help you keep up."

"What does that entail?" Tyler asked.

"Anything," Brice said, "as long as it doesn't involve chemistry or astronomy."

"Can I speak?" Oliver interrupted again. "Damn."

Brice raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Go at it."

"I want to ask her to be my girlfriend," Oliver said, "but I want to take it slow. First of all, I want to know if she's even allowed to date."

"Aren't all Muslims not allowed to date?" Brice asked.

"Doesn't mean they don't date," I said. "Christians aren't supposed to have sex before marriage, but look how that turned out. No one follows everything in their religion."

"Exactly," Oliver said. "I'm going to try to discretely determine her stance on dating before marriage."

"Sadaf seems pretty cool and laid back," I said. "Then again, that doesn't mean she isn't conservative in her views."

"How can a cool and laid-back person be conservative?" Brice asked.

"Life's more nuanced than that," I said.

"She's friends with Mi Yun, who's gay," Oliver pointed out, "and she's talking to me in private."

"That's religion." I shrugged. "People pick and choose what to believe. That's why you have adulterers, liars, and people who disrespect their parents going around hating gay people."

"True," Brice said. 

"You're right," Oliver agreed with me. "That's why I need to keep sliding into those DMs to find out."

Brice busted into laughter. "I'm dead."

"I could never comprehend that phrase," Tyler said. "How can one appreciate a clever joke or statement if they're lifeless?"

"I agree with you on that one," I said. I agreed with Tyler on a lot of things.

"Velasco. Tyler. You two do the most," Brice said.

"Right," Oliver agreed. "But we appreciate you, nevertheless."

"Speaking of dating," Brice said, "I'm thinking of making things official with Estella."

I tensed up and had to fight the urge to frown. I shouldn't care. Estella and I weren't dating, and we couldn't date, so she might as well be with someone else. I said this, but I didn't want to hear Brice talk about this any further.

"Nice." Oliver pounded his fist. "So, you like her?"

What wasn't there to like about Estella? She was gorgeous, intelligent, kind, and easy to talk to and be with. Most of all, Estella didn't take bullshit from anyone. She was gentle and strong at the same time.

"Yeah," Brice said. "First, it was only harmless flirting, but now, I wanna be more serious." I tapped my foot and stared at the ground, anything to distract myself. "Velasco." He had my attention. "What's up with you and Estella? You've both been kind of weird whenever you're around each other."

"You noticed that, too, right?" Oliver said, and Brice nodded. "I thought it was just me."

Brice focused on me. "What's up? Did you guys get into a fight or something?"

"It's not that serious," I said. "Estella and I don't have to talk to each other all the time."

I missed talking to her, but for her own good, I had to keep my distance. She was right. It was selfish of me to keep leading her on when it wasn't going to go anywhere.

"True," Brice said, "but it seems like you're both ignoring each other and purposely trying to stay out of each other's way."

"Don't worry about it, Abrams." Oliver's gaze fixated on me. "What?"

"Why do you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"Act so secretive," Oliver said.

"I don't."

"Yes, you do," Oliver persisted. "You never want to tell us anything. We don't know where you live. You hardly talk about your family. Whenever something is going on, you always tell us not to worry, deflecting the attention back to us. You've been this way since freshman year, and it's not easing up."

I wanted to be open with the boys and be able to share information about my life and the things that occurred in it, but I didn't know how to. I'd spent my whole life being this way that I didn't know anything else. It wasn't in my nature to disclose my personal business, even when people disclosed theirs to me.

"Abrams is secretive, too," I pointed out.

Oliver laughed with no ounce of humor. "There you go deflecting again."

"What do you want from me, Oliver?" My volume increased. "I'm telling the truth."

"This isn't about Brice," Oliver said.

"Maybe it should be," I countered. "Everyone likes to point out me being secretive, but no one questions Abram's lack of disclosure."

"He's right," Brice said, catching me by surprise. "I do keep secrets."

All attention shifted to him, but it was Oliver who spoke up. "Like what?"

Brice stayed silent for a couple seconds before sighing. "There's something I've been keeping from you guys. Something I've only told one person."

"What is it?" I asked.

Brice hesitated again before speaking up. "There's a reason I don't like people coming to my house. I'm paranoid and scared for people to come to my house."

"Why?" Oliver asked the question we were all wondering.

Then again, I was scared and paranoid of people coming to my house, too.

Brice stared at the ground before glancing up at us. "My mom has schizoaffective disorder, the bipolar type."

We all went silent, not knowing what to say. I didn't know what schizoaffective disorder was, but it didn't sound good.

"What's that again?" Oliver spoke up.

"My mom has symptoms of both psychosis and bipolar disorder," Brice answered. "So, she experiences a lot of psychosis, and sometimes, she experiences episodes of depression and mania. I don't know which one is the worst." Brice forced a laugh. "The psychosis. The depression. Or the mania. They're all pretty bad."

"I can only imagine," Tyler said.

"She's my mom, and I love her," Brice said. "I just wish I wasn't so ashamed of her. I get so paranoid that she'll do something if I bring people over, or that she'll expose my private life. I feel guilty for feeling this way, but I don't know how to get rid of it."

Just like I didn't know how to get rid of my trust issues.

"I don't want people to think my mom is crazy," he said. "She isn't crazy. She just gets unstable sometimes. There's a difference."

"You don't have to stigmatize your mom's mental illness," I told him. "I wish more people talked about it instead of suffering in silence."

"Yeah," Oliver said. "One of my aunts has bipolar disorder. She may, as you said, become unstable at times, but she isn't crazy."

"My uncle suffers from bouts of major depression," Tyler added.

"My mom does, too," I said before I could inhibit myself. The others looked my way. "She hasn't been diagnosed or anything, but it's pretty obvious that she does. She doesn't hang out with anyone. She barely talks to me and my dad. She spends most of her time home, lying in bed and watching telenovelas. She barely does anything around the house, and I know she has depression. What I don't know is if she's numb or if she's silently in pain."

My mother was always the better one out of my parents. She was caring and would try to protect us from my father's wrath. Then the depression took her. Now, there was no warmth around her, and she seemed too exhausted to protect anyone. I only saw an ounce of my old mother when my father punched me, and she tried mitigating the situation. Even though the circumstances weren't ideal, I was relieved that my mother was still in there somewhere.

I was in disbelief that I shared something so private with the boys. Then again, Brice did, too.

"Yeah," Brice said, "depression sucks, whether you're experiencing it yourself or watching someone you love experience it. Mental illness as a whole sucks."

We all agreed on that.

"Don't be afraid to tell us anything, Brice," Oliver reminded him. "We'll never judge you or spread your business around. We got you."

Brice smiled. "I know. That's why you three are my boys."

"I'm honored to be one of your boys," Tyler said, making the rest of us chuckle.

I was, too.

"Okay." Oliver clasped his hands together. "Who wants to play Frisbee?"

"Yes." Brice rose from his seat, and Tyler and I followed suit. "I'm down."

Oliver went inside to grab the Frisbee, and once we dispersed around the gigantic backyard, the game began. Our competitiveness came out as we laughed, talked trash and joked around.

I may not have acted like it, but I appreciated my friendship with the boys. I liked to be alone, but the older I got, the less appealing solitude appeared.

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* Hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter. I'm looking forward to the next one. 😊