What is home?

The next morning, Patrick and I both packed our remaining bags and got onto a taxi bound for Tweed-New Haven Airport. "I can't wait to go back to Chicago," Patrick told me as he shoved a duffel bag into the back of the taxi. "As much as I love Old Haven, Chicago will always be my city."

"I think I like Old Haven a little bit better than Las Vegas," I said.

"Why do you say that?" Patrick asked while we both climbed into the back of the taxi and fastened our seat belts.

"The people here are far better," I said.

"That's so nice of you to say," Patrick said, smiling. It was the truth, because telling a lie in this situation would make no sense. There were more people that I liked in Old Haven than in Las Vegas, although I did miss my mother.

The taxi driver took us to the airport, but when we got there, Patrick and I had to go our separate ways. The airport wasn't particularly large, especially when compared with the airport in Las Vegas, but I still found it quite easy to get disoriented. As I made my way through registration and security, I was surrounded by people, but I felt as if I was alone. At Kale, I always had a few friends around me, but here, I didn't know anyone. The isolation was terrifying, since there was no distraction to mask what was real.

Before long, I was on my way home, but could I call Las Vegas home anymore? I had spent over four months in Old Haven, and in some ways, Kale University felt more like home than Las Vegas ever had, even after eighteen years of living there. I wasn't a permanent resident, and I had no particular attachment to the city, so there was no reason for me to think of Las Vegas as my home.

I spent the plane ride to Las Vegas staring out the window, wondering how much longer was left in the plane ride, what the clouds did all day to entertain themselves, and whether my mom was at the airport yet. As usual, there was a crying toddler sitting directly behind me who seemed to enjoy kicking the back of my seat. Why do we derive amusement from others' suffering, even as children? The world could be so cruel sometimes, and that was just one example.

After nearly five hours in an airplane with an obnoxious toddler and a brainless in-flight movie, I got off of the plane and was greeted by the slot machines that were ubiquitous in my hometown. I had never paid much attention to them as a child, but after spending several months in a place where gambling was illegal, I had to make note of them.

I proceeded to baggage claim as I was bombarded with ads for all of the things that I could do during my stay in Las Vegas. I felt like a tourist in my hometown - it was as if I was an East Coast college kid going to Las Vegas for a quick vacation instead of a boy raised in the Vegas lights coming home to visit his family. Then again, perhaps I was both at the same time.

I found my mother waiting for me next to the baggage claim. "Ryan!" she shouted. I rushed over to her and gave her a hug, and she held me tightly as she said, "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, Mom," I said.

"It's great to see you again," Mom asked. "How has everything been going at Kale University? I already saw your grades, and I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks," I said. "Can you please let me get my suitcase."

Mom laughed and said, "Of course."

I grabbed my suitcase from the baggage claim, and then Mom drove me back to her apartment. On the way there, she asked me all kinds of questions about Kale, and I tried my best to answer them. "Tell me about the clubs that you're in," Mom said. "Did you join all of the ones that you told me you were going to?"

"Not all of them," I said. "I got pretty caught up in the Guyliner Club."

"What exactly do you do in the Guyliner Club?" Mom asked.

"We wear guyliner," I answered.

"I knew that!" Mom exclaimed. "What else do you do?"

"We meet every other Tuesday, and we give each other makeup tips and talk about our lives," I said. "There are four other people in the club - Frank, Gerard, Laura, and Pete - and they're all super cool."

"I'm so glad you've made friends at Kale, Ryan," Mom said. "How are things going with your roommate?"

"We got into a bit of a fight, but it's getting better," I said.

"What was the fight about?" Mom asked.

"Patrick was just mad at me because I kept coming home late from my job," I said.

"Ryan, you know that you shouldn't be out too late," Mom said. "It could be dangerous, and you're losing sleep that way."

"I'm sorry, Mom, but it wasn't like I was going to get much sleep anyways," I said. "Patrick used to wake me up at five o'clock in the morning by blasting Elvis Costello in my ears."

"That's horrible!" Mom exclaimed. "My poor baby shouldn't have to deal with that."

"He stopped doing it," I said. "The Greek Friendship Society still keeps me up sometimes, but I've been sleeping a lot better since he stopped."

"You know, you could always transfer to one of the local universities," Mom said.

"I think I'm doing just fine at Kale," I said as I stared out the window. "Don't worry, Mom. I'll be home all summer."

"I can't wait for that," Mom said. "It's been so lonely without you."

I looked out onto the land surrounding the highway, which was nothing but barren rock with the Strip's massive hotels and casinos looming in the distance. I could never live here again, especially after spending so much time in Old Haven. All of the people that I was closest to were living in Connecticut, and the Nevada desert was nothing compared to the splendor of a small New England town like Old Haven.

Less than an hour later, Mom pulled up to our apartment building, and we took the elevator up to the apartment that had been my home for eighteen years. I was glad to see that Mom had made me all of my favorite foods in honor of my visit, but something felt off. I suspected that it was simply because it was nine in the afternoon, and I wasn't at the Aubergine.

Despite the fact that I hadn't eaten since I had left Old Haven, I didn't have much of an appetite. I took a few small bites of Mom's food and then told her that I was feeling a little bit jet lagged, which was true. The jetset life is going to kill you, after all.

I stumbled into my old bedroom and crashed onto the bed. It wasn't quite as comfortable as my dorm room, but it was a little larger, and I didn't have to deal with Patrick's snoring. Within a few minutes, I was fast asleep, dreaming of my friends back at Kale.

The next morning, my mother asked me an odd question. As she was making me a stack of pancakes, she asked, "Ryan, have you met any cute boys at Kale?"

I've never properly come out to my mom, but sometime between the time when I asked her to buy eyeliner for me and the day one of the boys in my English class came to our apartment after homecoming during my freshman year of high school, she figured out that I was gay. It wasn't like I was exactly trying to hide my sexual orientation, but it had never been out in the open like this. Nevertheless, I tried to give her an honest answer. "There's this cute guy that I work with," I said.

"That's sweet," Mom said. "What's his name?"

"Brendon Urie," I answered, and my heart fluttered as I said his name. No matter what Dallon said, there was no way that he and I would end up together. However, that didn't stop me from liking him.

"Brendon Urie," Mom repeated. "I've heard that name before."

"You must be mistaken," I said. "Maybe you're confusing him with someone else."

"No, I've definitely heard that name before," Mom said. "I don't know where I've heard it, but I've heard it."

How did my mom know Brendon Urie? Mom had lived in Las Vegas for almost all of her life, and Brendon lived on the other end of the country. It seemed impossible for them to meet. I couldn't think of any way that they could have met each other, so perhaps Mom was confusing Brendon with someone else. On the other hand, it was a distinctive name. "Brendon Urie" was the sort of name that most people remembered.

"So what's this Brendon Urie like?" Mom asked. "Maybe if you start describing him, then you'll jog my memory."

I came back to the same problem that I had experienced for the last several months - Brendon was impossible to describe. I could talk about him as much as I wanted to, but I would never capture the essence of who he was. Despite these obstacles, I told my mother about his beautiful voice, his enthusiastic and energetic nature, and how gorgeous he looked in those sparkly suits.

"I still can't figure out where I know him from," Mom said. "Maybe it will come to me later."

I finished up my pancakes and then headed back to my room. The next three weeks passed by far too slowly for my taste. Everything seemed to remind me of why I had left Las Vegas in the first place. It didn't feel like home anymore, and before long, I was homesick for Kale University.

Christmas and New Year's Day came and went. Mom and I spent Christmas together, along with a handful of other relatives. The food was tasty, but I couldn't bring myself to truly appreciate the holiday. I wasn't sure how I felt about the religious aspect of Christmas, and if there was no place like home for the holidays, then I wanted to be at Kale. I did get a few presents from my friends at Kale, mostly in the form of junk food that my relatives refused to buy me. Brendon even sent me a carton of homemade vegan Rocky Road ice cream. Most of the ice cream had melted by the time it arrived, but it was the thought that counted.

On New Year's Eve, my mom and I stayed up until midnight, mostly to celebrate the two of us making it through 2017. After New Year's, I stayed in Las Vegas for another week and a half before packing my bags again to go back to Old Haven, my real home.

My flight back to Kale ended up having two connections, one in Chicago and one in Philadelphia. I was lucky enough to have Patrick with me for most of the flight, and we ended up switching seats just so that we could be next to each other. He told me all of the wonderful Chicago landmarks that he had re-visited during his vacation, but all I could think about was how the only landmarks I wanted to see were a statue of M.C. Moneybags and the gates to Kale University. 

A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you're enjoying The Piano Knows Something I Don't Know so far. Please check out my new story, Medallion Court! It's a collection of interconnected flash fictions about the people who live, play, and occasionally murder in an old apartment building called Medallion Court, and I think you guys will like it. Thanks for reading! :)