He rests his hand on the doorknob, takes a deep breath, and steps inside. I follow.
The place is empty, a bit dark with the early dusk settling in. There’s a man behind the counter. He tears a long receipt from the register, then scribbles something on a slip of paper.
“We’re closed…”
That doesn't stop Tom.
The man looks up, and the second he sees Tom, his whole face lights up. He comes around the counter with his arms wide. They clasp hands and pull each other into a rough hug, their Dutch a mix of fast overlapping words.
Tom switches to English, the man following suit.
His eyes land on me. He offers his hand with the same warmth.
“Tarik,” he says.
“Yosh. Nice to meet you, Tarik.”
Five minutes later, we’re sitting at a high table with a cup of steaming hot Turkish tea. It’s served in a beautiful traditional silver-plated tea set.
“It only comes out when the family from Izmir visits,” Tarik says, then grips Tom’s shoulder
“This fucker almost died in my shop.” Tarik ruffles Sapphire’s curls. They’re close. No doubt about it.
“So I heard. Were you there when it happened?”
“Yeah.” Tarik nods. “It was just after midnight. The place was packed. Tom used to stop by every weekend for a kebab, never before three in the morning.” He glances at him. “But that night, you came early. That stayed with me.”
He shrugs. “Other than that? Nothing out of the ordinary. There’s always some crazy shit going on in the Amsterdam party scene.”
Tom pinches the bridge of his nose. “Could you tell me what happened? It’s all just fragments in my head.”
“My cousin found you on the floor. We dragged you into the storage room so you could sober up. I called Jay to come get you.”
Tarik shakes his head. “The place was insane. I had a kitchen to run, so I left you alone for ten minutes. I wanted to wait for Jay and his KGB bodyguard, but something felt off, so I went back. Good thing I did. You were turning blue like a damn Viagra pill.”
“Fucking hell.” Tom squeezes my hand under the table.
“My cousin called the ambulance. I was on the floor doing CPR, freaking out, the whole thing. You’re lucky I took that free first-aid course the government offered to business owners.”
Tom’s face is pale, one hand pressed against his mouth as he listens, the other still holding mine.
“Thank God you didn’t end up at the pearly gates that night. Can you imagine this place crawling with cops all weekend? That would’ve been a financial disaster.”
He smacks Tom between the shoulder blades. Tarik’s laugh is loud, shameless, and impossible not to catch. Before I know it, we’re laughing with him.
I can picture the two of them together on any normal weekend: eating, laughing, trashing each other.
“ Kidding, bro. Can’t afford to lose my best customer. Then again, you stopped coming anyway.”
Tom seems a little more at ease. Tarik’s comedy storytelling is taking the weight off. They both weaponise humour when things get too real. Still, watching your friend nearly die, and being the one to perform CPR, I know that’s something that will stay with you forever.
I’m sorry, Tarik,” Tom says. “I went to a recovery resort in Avalon. I’m still working on myself, midnight visits are over.”
Tarik slams his palm down on the table. Cups rattle, tea splashing out.
“No way! I’m proud of you, man!”
Tom offers his friend a small smile, like all the battles he needed to fight mean nothing. I’ve seen some of them. I know they do.
