Astral still hears from Yuma from time to time.
A phone call here, an e-mail there and Skype sessions when they both had the time for it. They’ve been friends for nearly five years now and haven’t spent more than a month in the same country at the same time. He’s surprised that they’ve kept it up so long.
They’d met almost half a decade ago, at Heartland Airport both leaving for the first time, heading to the same destination after spending their entire lives in the same city. They’d never met before then, never even heard of each other before. Yuma had called it destiny, Astral didn’t believe it at the time. Yuma told Astral that his parents had spent their honeymoon in Barcelona, always meant to take him and his sister there before they died. Astral didn’t tell him that he was going there to meet his birth mother. He had no memories of her, he’d only been 10 months old when he was adopted. Astral nodded politely, sure that he’d never see this strangely enthusiastic boy again once they boarded the plane.
But lo and behold, they’d been seated next to each other on the plane and Astral ended up teaching Yuma some basic phrases in Spanish. Things he might need to tour the city: Where’s the nearest bathroom, Where can I get something to eat, I don’t understand Spanish. Astral didn’t like many people, but he couldn’t help but like Yuma. Maybe it was the way he was so determined to learn an entire language in seven hours, or maybe it was really destiny like Yuma kept suggesting.
They’d ended up spending two weeks being tourists together in the colourful city before Yuma was off to his next destination. Astral stayed to spend time with his birth mother. He was sure that he’d never hear from Yuma again, but one weeks later, there was a post-card from Paris and then another one from Berlin the week after. They kept in touch while Yuma travelled throughout Europe, finally ending up in Rome.
Hearing about Yuma’s adventures was always interesting, whether it be his travels or his personal life. Astral often worries about the people he meets taking advantage of him, but Yuma seems to handle himself well enough, even if he does ask him for advice at every turn. Reading Yuma’s latest e-mail, with pictures attached of a purple haired man tending to their sunflowers, he considers the last line:
You should come visit sometime! We have a guest bedroom and everything!
Smiling he types out a quick reply:
Does next month work for you?