The Dying Light
It looked like Julian was washing his hands, but he wasn’t. He was just rubbing them under the dining table, as if he was trying to kindle a fire between them. Before the flames could form, Afton grabbed his hand, extinguishing the embers and easing the anxiety Julian held tightly in his chest.
Julian was a nervous, sometimes paranoid boy, and that night, he was especially so. He thought a fire could ignite at any second, but then he remembered that there hadn’t been any fires lit those last nine months, ever since he and Afton started dating.
Afton was in the middle of telling a story. He had heard it before. A few times actually because it was one of her favorites and one of his too. Right before she delivered a punchline, she would gaze downward and laugh to herself, squeezing his hand more tightly. Even if the punchline was about something mundane, it always made Julian laugh. Not even because he thought the line itself was funny but because Afton thought it was.
David laughed too. He laughed loudly and obnoxiously, like a hyena. Julian could never laugh like that without feeling embarrassed, wrong.
“Julian, you told me she’s smart, but you didn’t mention she’s funny too!”
“Mr. Nguyen…”
“Call me David.”
“David. Dinner was great. Thanks so much for having me.”
“Come over any time.”
“He likes you.”
It was late at night, and Julian was walking Afton to her car.
“I like him too. Happy I got to finally meet him.”
They arrived at her car, but it wasn’t time for Afton to go home just yet.
“How come you don’t talk about him much?”
Julian exhaled. Because it’s not fun to talk about my dad, he thought. Because I’m scared it’ll scare you away.
“We’re just not that close. I don’t really know much about him.”
“Well, you’ll have time now. To get to know each other.”
You’ll have time now. This comment rang in Julian’s ears like buzzing, post-concert frequencies. Julian would “have time now” because he was going to community college and living at home, while she was off to four-year college, living in a dorm, and meeting people like her who were going places bigger than their hometowns. Julian knew that Afton meant well, but sometimes, she didn’t stop to think about how she made him feel. She just did things, without considering the effects or measuring the risks, which enabled her to achieve and succeed. In ways, she reminded him of his mom.
“I wish I enjoyed getting to know strangers. College is going to be hard,” Afton sighed, as she leaned her body against her car. In these uncommon moments of silence between them, Julian wondered what Afton was actually thinking. She had a tendency to put herself and her accomplishments down, but was it because she truly felt unsatisfied? Or was she simply fishing for compliments, assurances from others that she was wrong to think so negatively about herself? Either way, she would harp on about things that she worked hard for but had lost their enticing novelty because she had gotten them. It was somewhat infuriating, but Julian didn’t want to discount how hard she worked.
Mostly acceptances, a few waitlists, and hardly any rejections, Afton fared well. She was choosing between Berkeley and Brown, liberal dreamlands that Afton bitterly called “B-grade” because, well, they started with the letter “B” and weren’t Stanford or Harvard. Julian sometimes thought that the “B” could also stand for “boohoo,” and couldn’t help but feel jealous that Afton had options, while Julian had to stay at home to look after his dad. When he inevitably felt guilty for thinking these things, he’d switch his brain to believing that maybe there was a silver lining to him going to community college. He wouldn’t have to decide between schools. He could stay friends with people from high school. Things felt certain for him, for the most part.
Afton and Julian hadn’t had the talk yet about their next move and what post-high school “them” would look like. He had no idea if the conversation would ever happen, and it made him feel conflicted. On one hand, he wanted some sense of clarity. On the other, he liked the blurriness of their future. He could live in blissful ignorance for now. She wasn’t definitely leaving or dumping him. She could still choose Berkeley and stay in state. They could make it work and stay together in college, even after. They could continue to learn everything about the other. Just being with each other was enough, and enough could be forever. After these silent considerations, Julian grabbed Afton’s hands and kissed her goodnight. She drove away.
Julian walked slowly back to his house, staring at the street lights. For the first time in his life — seventeen years, living in the same house on the same street — he wondered at what time they turned off. Like any other human-made object, they were prone to error, which meant that at some point every day, his world would succumb to pure darkness. He pushed the scary thought aside and ran back home.
David sat in front of the TV, watching yet another documentary about World War II. What was with old men and war documentaries? He was eating a tub of rum raisin ice cream, while watching a city get bombed on screen, a hundred civilians dead with every bite.
Julian stared at his dad, whose unblinking eyes were focused on these scenes of past tragedy and destruction. Julian considered telling him that eating ice cream wasn’t good for him and that he needed to watch his sugar intake, but he decided against it. David had been cordial to Afton at dinner and that’s all that mattered.
Julian sat at the edge of his bed and looked at the tree outside his bedroom window. The orange leaves swayed back and forth, before he lay on his back, stared up at his ceiling, and let the night swallow him and his world whole.
Julian asked Afton to prom the week after. When people asked him years later about his prom-posal, he would squirm, fake remembrance, or refuse to respond. To his credit, Julian’s ask was clear and appropriately cheesy for the occasion.
He bought a giant bear stuffed animal from Costco and asked people from ASB to make a sign that read “I can’t BEAR going without you. Prom?” Julian found this amusing in an ironic way, and even though Afton hadn’t chosen between Berkeley or Brown yet, the sign was viable either decision she made.
Julian asked Afton’s best friends Audrey and Nicole to hold up the poster, while Julian stood in front of it holding a bouquet of tulips. He made sure not to buy her roses because Afton called them the Hallmark of flowers. As Afton pulled into the driveway, she laughed, and Julian did too. She parked the car quickly, clumsily running out in her oversized Birkenstocks and directly into Julian’s arms. A muffled “Will you go to—” was interrupted by a “Yes,” quickly followed by “Awww” and “Pictures!”
Julian went straight home after the prom-posal. He felt burnt out from the nerves of asking a girl to a dance for the first time. He checked the fridge to see if there was anything to drink to cool off, when he noticed something that hadn’t been there in the morning. Five Jack Daniel punches were shoddily hidden behind a carton of milk. Julian frantically searched the fridge for the sixth bottle, but it was nowhere to be found. He exhaled deeply, and his heart beat faster. He slammed the fridge closed, only for a postcard to fall from it.
“Xin Chào from Vietnam!” it read in big cartoonish type. On the back, “June 20, 2014,” almost two years ago, followed by “Dear Julian. It’s so humid, my curly hair can’t take it. The food is not so good here. Better in California. Maybe we’ll come back after you graduate. You can meet all of your relatives. Wish you were here.”
Julian pocketed the postcard, retreated to his bedroom, and pulled the covers over his head tightly. Go to sleep, go to sleep. But even in the dark, he couldn’t help it from welling up in his throat. I wish you were here too, he whispered, before falling asleep.
It was April 30th, the day before commitment day. Julian was lying next to Afton, frantically scrolling on her laptop. She was looking for a prom dress, complaining “Hate this fabric,” “I’d probably look fat in this,” and “I can’t find anything, might as well just go naked!” After almost an hour of deliberation, she found a dress that was “fine enough,” making sure to keep Julian from seeing the one she chose.
Like the dress, Afton’s college choice was unknown to Julian. She had to have decided by now. He wished that Afton just told him, so he wasn’t asking to be potentially disappointed. Afton typed her credit card number with focus, while Julian walked out of her bedroom. He grabbed a water glass from the kitchen when Afton’s mom Jeanette walked in with a cardboard box.
“Sweetie, the package came just in! Oh, Julian. I thought you were Afton. Are you going back upstairs?”
Julian nodded, as he accepted the box from Jeanette and looked at the top left corner.
“It’s ordered!” Afton happily announced, as Julian walked through her door.
“Great,” Julian responded weakly. He sat on the bed and passed her the box. Afton looked at the box, then at her boyfriend. She grabbed his hand, but he let go of her grasp.
“What does this mean?” he asked. “For us.”
Afton sighed, then softly said, “Can’t we just… Can we talk about this later?”
Julian stood up abruptly.
“Were you just not gonna tell me? Were you just planning on moving across the country without any notice?”
“Of course not. I just didn’t know how to-”
“God, I should’ve known. You just do whatever you want and never think about other people.”
Afton used the sleeves of her hoodie to wipe the tears rapidly streaming down her face. “But you never asked,” she said. “You never asked, and you never brought anything up. So I had to decide for myself.”
Julian scoffed. “So you admit it?”
“What?”
“You only do things for yourself.”
“No, that’s not… Just because I know what I want doesn’t mean that I-”
“So now you’re saying I don’t have any ambitions?”
“No, I’m not- You’re just… You’re just hearing whatever you believe about yourself. I’m sorry, but I can’t read your mind or wait around for you to figure it out.”
Without a word, Julian stormed out, flung his car door open, and sped down the street, replaying their argument over and over again in his head. He hated that Afton would be gone just like that, turning the corner when he wasn’t looking. He hated that she knew where she was going, while he was here to stay.
Julian stormed into the kitchen and yanked open the fridge, containing stale leftovers and the carton of old milk. He slammed it closed and ran upstairs.
David was napping in bed, until Julian stood over his still body and demanded, “Where the hell are they?” In an instant, David was awake.
“I- I- What are you- What are you talking about?” David sat up slowly, as Julian pacing around the room, opening cabinets and drawers, then slamming them closed. He was in the bathroom when he found them. Julian looked down at the trashcan, where six bottles lay empty.
“Why can’t either of you stay alive for me?” Julian cried, as he shook his dad’s scrawny body.
“Son… I don’t- I don’t know… What you’re… Talking about.”
Julian felt sorry for David, his weak father. Every idea Julian had of what it meant to be a good parent, strong, selfless, was absent in the man that sat before him. Julian stormed out, leaving David alone in his room.
All Julian wanted to do was run, so he did. Away from his dad, out of his childhood home, onto the black pavement, Julian ran. His vision was blurred. The houses looked like they were morphing, parked cars like they were moving, oak trees like they were swaying: a transitory thrill, an unsatisfying release. He stopped running. The houses, cars, and trees went back into focus. His surroundings returned to normal. Nothing moved, appeared, or changed. Everything around him had stayed the same, stuck in place, stuck in time. He exhaled, his head turned up, his shoulders drooped down. The more he ran, the more he stayed. The more he held on, the more they all went away. He gazed at the broken light through the quaking leaves and felt the heaviness of his breath and body, all in the silence of the suburban streets.
It was decided. Afton was moving out of state to attend Brown. On commitment day, she apologized for not telling Julian. He apologized for saying those things that he didn’t really mean. She forgave him and told him he could visit her in Providence and she’d be coming home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. As Afton excitedly went on and on about their theoretical plans for the next year, Julian nodded in a noncommittal way. In Julian’s head, none of those plans were actually set. The only one that was was prom.
“You look great. Promise.”
She really did. Afton was wearing a silk lavender dress, her long hair in soft curls falling nicely on her decolletage. She was panicking that the dress squeezed her non-existent back fat. Julian sighed and said what he said. Afton shook her head, then smiled.
The drive to the venue was mostly silent. It wasn’t necessarily bad, just unusual for them. Julian turned to look at Afton, who was looking out the window.
“What slow songs do you think they’re gonna play?”
Afton continued to stare at the window. “‘Thinking Out Loud,’ for sure.”
“Really? I was thinking ‘The Climb.’”
Afton chuckled, “You know I’d love that.”
“Yeah… I can’t lie. That song’s great.”
Afton and Julian were both wrong. “All Of Me,” “Someone Like You,” and their joke of a favorite, “A Thousand Miles.” They swayed side-to-side to the corny early 2000s ballad, while Cassidy Greenberg and Kate Winthrop sang their awful, drunken renditions of it. Afton and Julian laughed to themselves. She shook her head and whispered, “High school…”
They sat across from each other in a booth with purple velvet benches, holding two-foot-long menus that contained over 200 dishes of European, Asian, and fusion cuisines. Tasty Garden was an eclectic restaurant that could only be found in a place like their Southern Californian hometown.
“I don’t knooow,” Afton complained, as she scanned the menu. It was two in the morning, and they were starving. When the waitress came to take their order, Afton frantically decided: scallop fried rice, garlic chicken wings, Hong Kong waffle, and two chocolate milkshakes. After this moment of self-inflicted stress, she sighed in relief, which made Julian laugh. “What?” she asked, which made him laugh even more. She lightly slapped his arm.
The huge spread of food arrived within minutes, and it was gone just as fast. Afton dramatically lay on the bench and put her hands on her stomach. “My metabolism won’t be like this forever,” she sighed, then sat up and took another sip of her milkshake.
The high school metabolism would be sorely missed, and this place would be too. Tasty Garden closed two years later, which Julian would notice when he was home for winter break. He looked inside the empty building that once was brightly lit with cheap chandeliers and bustling with families at the Lazy Susan tables. Prom night was the last of the many that he and Afton ate at their go-to, late night eatery. The restaurant had hundreds of customers come through at all hours of the day. For Julian and Afton, it was solely theirs.
He took a sip of his milkshake too, which tasted nostalgically sweet. He savored every last drop.
Birds chirped and sprinklers turned on in the distance. It was dark outside, the street lights on. In suburbia, these are the signs that night is shifting toward day, that night is beginning to end.
Julian and Afton lay on her lawn in the stillness of the suburban dawn. Afton turned her face towards Julian’s, her brown eyes having turned orange from the lanterns’ illumination. Julian looked at Afton — really looked at her and every tiny detail around them. This wasn’t a scene, just a still: a snapshot of a moment that was tender, pure, fragile. Afton touched the side of Julian’s face and kissed him on the forehead, before she sat up on the well-manicured grass. She put out her hand, and the two of them walked toward the door.
“See you tomorrow? I mean… Today, in a few hours. You know what I mean.”
Julian let the simple question sit. He could’ve just said “yes,” that he’d see her the next day like he always did. Instead, he kissed her on the cheek and let go of her hand. The door closed behind him. Afton was gone.
Julian walked to his car when he saw movement above him. He looked up to see the lanterns flicker, then turn to pale gray. He had witnessed the dying of the light, standing there in his tuxedo.
Julian sighed, as his silhouette bent over and got into his car. The engine roared, as he drove down those quiet streets. The ones he had known his entire life, the ones no longer lit by the lanterns he had known for just as long. His car lights hadn’t turned on either, but Julian figured it was fine. He knew that the sun would rise eventually.
Writer and filmmaker based in Los Angeles, passionate about telling stories that explore the nuances of the Asian American experience.