Chapter 3

Sevina

This is not the first time it happens. Rovy knows I’m spooked by people and is trying to set me up with each new employee. Not just guys, though. Newcomer girls fall on my hands too. They distance themselves as soon as they learn all they need.

Yet Rovy’s persistent. Is shoving each new person into my face is his idea of care?

Maybe to one of them she’ll open up, he must be thinking. Or, perhaps, I’m not worth giving anything more serious to do. Me, staring down and trying to find the solution deep in my dismayed head, already cost a handful of dishes and a shit ton of tirades.

“Okay, come on,” I say to the new guy after Rovy heads off, but before following he extends me his hand. The gesture confuses me. I’ve never shaken a hand before. And if I do that I’ll have to make eye contact with him. What do I do? I sneak a glimpse at him. He’s not as tall as Rovy, but I have to lift my head slightly if I want to talk to him. Neither of both I want to do.

I walk past him instantly regretting the decision.

I can’t even shake a hand.

“How long have you been working here?” His flowing tone throws me off, unaffected by my retreat.

“Long enough,” I pipe and stop by the dark room at the far corner of the kitchen, then show him all the appliances. “You’re gonna mop.”

He takes a bucket and a mop. Whenever he faces away I can’t help but examine him from beneath my eyes. Unlike most of us lean Coaters with sucked in cheekbones he’s fit, muscles defined under his dark gray t-shirt. He seems healthy.

I show him around and leave him to fend for himself. Whenever I peek he’s performing every task from top to bottom while managing to find time for occasional blabber with the staff. I’m mopping with my head down and he’s next to one of the waitresses. She giggles as if she’s just discovered her femininity and puts her hand on his shoulder. Next time I bother to check on him, he’s close to the cook, asking things and gesturing to the food. Now he’ll get scolded for sure. The cook hates us… the old man chuckles and gestures at his soup with pride, mumbling something about the recipe.

“Lila said she could do with my help as well,” what’s his face…Corrin says when he’s close to me, mopping. “Can I?”

“Sure,” I say. His reflection ripples in the dirty bucket water and even that I avoid. Lila, one of our waitresses, doesn’t need help, but that’s not what’s bothering me.

Why it’s not me in his place? Why on his first day he’s an old friend and I still get shouted at?

At the end of the day Rovy offers to grab a bite again and ends up displeased when I refuse. If I’m going to share things with him, like I decided last evening and was determined to do this morning, it’s not gonna be on the street.

“Well, fine. I’ll eat the leftovers.” He puckers his lips and turns to Corrin, who’s finishing wiping the tables. “Corrin, how are you doing?”

“I’m great.” Corrin smiles, his one hand sliding to the other’s elbow as if about to hug himself.

“I told you you’ll do fine!” Rovy reassures him. “There’s no need to worry.” Was he worried? His smile seems strained, but Rovy doesn’t notice. He praises him some more before he heads off, still pouting over my rejection. I watch his back and broad shoulders as he stomps out of the room. A grin tugs at my lips. He’s adorable.

I walk up to Corrin. He did a lot of my work today and I feel like I should say something. “Thanks for the help.”

In the dim window reflection, he tilts his head and his wavy hair bounces across his forehead. “Hey, it’s money, right?” Money? Whoever he is he’s not a Coater. Coaters call money paper, or coins.

“Right.”

Silence.

“Do you mind if I ask—”

“I mind—”

“—Is everything all right?” He ends softly, but with a speckle of curiosity. I frown at the tabletop and don’t reply. Why would he care?

He feels the need to explain himself. “You look at the floor a lot… like all the time, in fact. A couple girls almost bumped into you.” His tone rings careful.

“There is nothing to look at.” I toy with the bracelet Rovy gave me. “I gotta go.” I pivot and leave.

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All this zest and curiosity of his is off the wall. We come here to work, not to make friends and chat. Most of us at least. And now he’s prying into my behavior? It’s as if he never had a job in his life.

I scowl at myself, disgusted with my tendency to judge people, to condemn them for things I have no idea about while I eat ice-cream in a corner and stall telling my secrets because I’m a coward. Perhaps, Corrin was genuinely worried.

It’s as if I’ve forgotten what it’s like. For too long I haven’t looked into anyone’s eyes, haven’t felt their fears on top of my own, haven’t had their existence overtake mine. All those experiences; once I know them it’s impossible to judge. There’s wackiness inside everyone, secrets unique to each person. Everyone has them. Everyone lives with them. And I am still debating accepting mine? How?

After all, despite my anguish, I want to be with people.

The next five days are puzzling to say the least. None of the staff ever were best friends with each other. Sure, they shared conversations and the girls occasionally hung out, but most friendly atmosphere fluttered in the kitchen since Corrin appeared. It’s unreal how fast he befriended everyone. To me, the most lily-livered person anyone can meet, Corrin is a complete mystery. I can’t figure out what makes him so likable. He’s been working with us for five days. Five petty days! He does all the work for both of us and still finds time to help others. Efficiency? He blabbers a lot, too— one-liners, casual winks at girls here and there. He’s a natural.

I study him every chance I get, but despite trying to find the source of his luring charm, attracting everyone like a magnet, I sometimes catch tension cross his face. His body freezes for a second, his grin vanishes as if burdened by the world. No one else appears to notice it, though. But no one is watching him. He puzzles me.

I fight the urge to meet his eyes, but I don’t.

Corrin also pushes me forward, without even knowing it. Or rather, he induces the guilt when I compare myself to him. How ungrateful I am, doing half of what Corrin does, of what every staff member does, and still being unwelcoming and distant. I made a big deal of something I should’ve faced a long time ago. That is something to be ashamed of.

Driven by my negative feelings, I finally gather myself and make my move. After my shift ends, late in the evening, I head to the far left wall of the kitchen where the staircase leads to the second floor. I might be still terrified to look into anyone’s eyes, but I’m ready to reveal everything to Rovy.

At the end of the narrow lobby, I stop by his bedroom door. I’ve never been inside it.

Before I chicken out, I bar on the hollow wood door and listen to Rovy’s footsteps creak against the floor as he comes to open it.

“Sevina?”

“I need to talk to you.” I clutch my hands in front of me.

Rovy allows me to enter. “What’s the matter?” He slides the door closed. “Sevs, you’re not quitting, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” I glance at him as we stand in front of each other. He was always there for me and I’m ashamed I didn’t have the guts to tell him everything sooner. “It’s about my condition.”

“Yes?”

“I can see people’s lives.”

His eyebrow jumps. “You what?”

“Uh… I…” I have to follow my synopsis I jotted down in my digital pad. What was the first point?

“You’re being a bit sketchy,” Rovy says.

“I’m not. I…” My jaw hangs open, but I can’t speak. All I’m focused on is the beating that telling my powers to the foster kids cost me in the past.

Rovy puts a hand on my shoulder and I shudder. “Calm down, I’m not gonna hurt you or anything for talking to me.”

Oh, he won’t? Right, of course, he won’t. What am I even thinking?

“Right.”

I push past the fear and tell him the whole deal. A hint of skepticism dances across his face while I spill the words as if they were scripted, well, because I did script them. He squints his small eyes a couple times, but I talk and explain until his doubtful expression peters out…

He gapes, his eyebrows high up his forehead.

Don’t think I’m a freak. Don’t think I’m a freak…

“Holy shit. You’re for real?”

I nod. “I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you earlier. I was so scared. I just want somebody to know, that’s all.” I shuffle from foot to foot, wringing my hands.

“My God!” He opens his arms. “Don’t you dare to apologize! You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met!” He pulls me into a sudden hug. “Your secret is safe with me.” Amazement still dances in his voice. I smile with my lips closed, my cheek warming against his chest. My shoulders are so light I swear I would float if he let go. My load of five years is washed off finally.

I pull away and peek at him. “Um, I guess, today we can go to Chinese. If you’re up for it.”

“Of course!” He beams and grabs his jacket. We descend down to the dining hall where Corrin’s cleaning the tables.

“Finish up and clock out,” Rovy tells him as he keeps his attention on me, bemusedly grinning.

“Yeah,” Corrin says, a suspicious look on his face as he follows us out. We cross our eyes for half a second and a nervous tingle whisks over my back. The way this outsider watches us, the way he stands, unsure, like a feral dog about to attack. He’s not a Coater and he feels sketchy to me. What is he here for?

Perhaps, I should look him in the eyes?

“Sevs?” Rovy calls me and I notice I stalled by the door he holds open for me. I shake my head, brushing the feeling off, running from the fear that follows it. I’m imagining things, now feeling paranoid and exposed to the world because Rovy knows what I can do. Corrin is just a man with his own flaws and does not merit the use of my power.

Chinese has never tasted so good. It’s a weird feeling; talking to someone without worry, without paranoia over my body language. I stare away as much as I want and look around Rovy’s face for as long as I’m comfortable with. Rovy supports all my gestures and I find myself almost convinced by his dozens of compliments in all the different techniques he has to offer. To my elation, he doesn’t pry into my past nor how I came by my abilities. Instead, he praises me some more; what an amazing human being I am— enduring enough to keep myself together all those years.

Perhaps, I should believe him. Other people in my shoes might’ve committed suicide by now, stepped off a ledge. But not me.

“You fell down and you got up,” Rovy tells me as if he couldn’t make it any more poetic.

“If you can count this little step as getting up,” I grunt.

“Oh, you can. By the way, I know you hoard everything so here,” he takes my palm and puts something cold and small into it.

“That’s my quarter,” I exclaim and catch myself. It’s surprising how open I feel around Rovy now.

Rovy laughs and when I smile, with my lips parted for the first time, it seems to surprise him.

It surprises me too.