Van

Van is in his mid 40s and owns a bakery called Oso’s in downtown Fern River, a few blocks up from the Celandine Hotel. He lives alone in a carriage house he bought and renovated a few years ago, which sits on a narrow cobblestone alley. He rents out the ground floor as a studio to Asami, a potter and teacher at the local college. The second floor is his tiny one-room abode, cozy but efficient, complete with sleeping loft and skylight. He walks 20 minutes to the bakery early every morning before the city has begun to stir.

Tall and burly, with a tidy dark beard and a warm laugh, Van is a robust presence. He works alone all morning at the big wooden bench behind the window of the narrow bakery, performing his operations on the dough as if on stage. Customers looking for bread or pastries walk up to the Dutch door and get his attention over the music. He greets most of them by name; the bakery is an extension of Van’s personality.

He and Ana, his long-time partner, broke up a few years ago. She moved back to Uruguay, where they had met and lived together in their late 20s. They parted on good terms, and he misses her — even if becoming single allowed him to turn over a new leaf. He came out as bisexual soon after they split, and has enjoyed exploring that long-repressed portion of his sexuality. He and Carlos see each other often, and help each other out with projects around the bakery and garden.

Van visits the public pool weekly for a few laps and a sweat in the sauna, and joins Carlos at Heather Beach on warm afternoons after a day at the bakery or working in the garden. He loves to watch people walk the beach, and doesn’t mind being watched himself.