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CHAPTER 17: NERDY, PHONE…
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah…Yeah…I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll be fine, or you are fine?”
I meet Daniel’s concerned eyes and sigh. This guy… He’s just too nice, always looking out for me even though I’m quite aware I can be a douchey and ungrateful friend. I can really resonate with Jason from our class on this. If I were gay too, I would probably be in love with Dan—but I’m not, and even his sister is too much of a bro for me to completely fall for, so…
There’s that.
Shaking off my daydreaming, I manage an ironic half-smile, then turn back forwards to looking where I’m going. A prudent move. The hallways of this school are so cluttered, I tell you. They’re a bunch of accidents waiting to happen—followed closely by lawsuits, probably.
“I will be. I’m just a little down, don’t worry.”
“You know I always worry about you.”
Awww~. He’s adorable.
I raise an eyebrow and give Dan a side-glance.
“Is it the moment when you confess your undying love to me?”
He scoffs immediately. “Yeah. Right. In your dreams. You’re not even my type.”
“’s that so? While we’re on the subject, what is your type? I don’t think I ever saw you with anyone…or your sister now that I think about it. Except with me of course. What is it with you two? You’re smart. You’re both good looking. You personally are the nicest guy I know, and Yas is…err…well she’d be a very…loyal girlfriend.” Suddenly, I stop and stare at him in—faked—shock. “Don’t tell me—gasp! You are into each other?!”
His head jerks back. “WHAT?! No! How did your brain even get there? And did you just say ‘gasp’?”
I sigh heavily in—faked—relief. “Oh, thank gods. That would have been awkward.”
“Yeah. Like I would date my own sis—”
“It would have been impossible to stop myself from telling silly jokes every time I met any of you. That’d have been unbearable.”
“That’s what you find awkward?!”
“Yeah. What else?”
“Err…The incest maybe?”
“What? Why? It’s your life. Why would I care? You know they aren’t any real scientific proof that consanguinity causes genetic diseases, right?”
That gets me a long look.
“…Sometimes I wonder on which moral standards you operate.”
I shrug and resume walking. “I’m amoral.”
“You’re not that bad.”
“A-moral, not I-mmoral. Google it.” We reach an intersection and both stop. “I’m going this way.” I point the hallway that continues towards the exit.
“Yeah.” He hesitates. “Are you sure you’ll be fine?”
“Hey. You know me. Have I ever stayed down more than 24 hours?”
“Yes. After Jennifer dumped you, you were a wreck for at least a week, until you started banging my sister.”
I wince. “Low blow. That was an exception. And I wasn’t ‘banging’ Yasmin. If anything, I was the one getting banged…violently so.”
“Still. Point stands.”
I sigh. “I’ll be fine. Go to your reunion, Mr Class Representative, sir.” I shoo him away. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Probably. Maybe not. Who knows? And if I don’t come to class again this week, I’ll see you on Saturday at Hope’s birthday.”
Hope is Daniel and Yasmin’s baby sister. She’s eleven this year. She’s an angel. I remember the day I told her she could call me Big Brother. She replied I was creepy, then added that if I came within five paces of her, she’d carve my eye out with a spoon, then file a restraining order against me. In that order.
She was seven back then.
Where do kids learn this kind of language anyway?
Well, we made up since.
Essentially, I bribed her.
That kid will go far.
Although… This makes me wonder. Do I have some kind of supernatural aura which broadcasts to all females in my vicinity an invitation to brutalise me? Feels like it some days.
Dan’s eyes widen in—faked—alarm. “You actually remembered. Now I’m really worried.”
“Get out of here!”
“Alright, alright.” He raises his hands in surrender and walks away.
I watch him walk away, standing at the intersection and waving in a silly way, uncaring for the weird glances I receive from the few stragglers who still haven’t vacated the premise of the school at this hour.
As soon as Dan turns at the end of the hallway, however, my arm drops, along with my smile and my shoulders. I heave a long sigh and start walking again towards the exit.
I didn’t lie to Dan. I’m sure I’ll be fine soon…one way or another. Probably. It’s how I’m wired. I’m a happy person. Maybe it’s the short attention span. I don’t know. Like a Joker goldfish or something.
But, in the meantime, I haven’t felt so depressed in a long, long while. After discovering what happened to Dorothy and the rest from the mouth of that annoying Elder of Kansas, it doesn’t hurt as much. There wasn’t anything I could have done to help them.
What’s left is a dull ache and a gloomy state of mind that doesn’t seem to be going away.
I’m still pissed off at the old bastard too.
Time for a flashback.
~ ~ ~ *whoooooshhhh* ~ ~ ~
“Hello, Young One. It has been a while, has it not?”
Without getting up from the rocking chair, I glare at the skinny old man who just somehow materialised inside the room without opening the door. “Ambrose.”
“Hohohoho… So you figured it out, Young One.”
“I’d be the last dumbass in Pandore if I’d missed the clues.” And if those clues hadn’t been enough, Victoria’s spirit suddenly screaming bloody murder again at the back of my mind would have been kind of a big giveaway.
“She really hates you, you know?” I don’t need to be more explicit. We both know whom I’m talking about. Hurt flashes across the dried, wrinkled features of the blue-eyed old prune. But I can’t bring myself to care. In fact, I even take a mean pleasure in seeing someone else in pain.
“I know, Young One. Trust me, I know…” He sighs and sits down on the bed.
“I trusted you once, Old Fart. It cost me my family jewels.”
Suddenly struck by a thought, I look at the door. Without moving his gaze away from me, the Elder says, “If you’re worried about your semi-orc friend finding out about your little secret, she is inspecting the wall on the other side of the village. She is quite meticulous. We have some time before she comes back.”
“Right.” I return my glare to him. “Okay. Spill. Everything. No more games. I’m tired, really not in the mood, I have a dead princess inside my head urging me to rip yours off and I’m running out of reasons to refuse her that little pleasure.”
He coughs and squirms slightly. I’m happy to see my threat actually has some effect. I’ve been told I become scary when I’m pissed. I wouldn’t know—I rarely get pissed at mirrors—but I guess red eyes and fangs, plus having the appearance of his former love whom he slew by mistake, doesn’t exactly make it any more comfortable for him.
“Of course. Of course, you deserve to know… Ahem. Everything started two thousand years ago—”
“Cut the useless details. I know about that. Princess and you were lovebirds. You went away playing war. She got pale and sucky. Daddy and mommy didn’t like it. Hid her away. You acted like a moron and got yourself cursed. Somehow, that curse jumped from man to man with her soul as a medium, until I got all pale and sucky, and girly. I don’t care. What, happened, here?” I punctuate each of the last three words with a stab of my finger in his direction. “Where is everyone?”
“They are dead. They always were.”
“……”
My lack of reaction seems to surprise him.
“You are taking this more…calmly than I thought you would.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. But that laugh is anything but joyful.
I grip the armrests and lean forwards. “Calm…? Do I…” my head tilt to the side, casting a shadow over my glowing eyes, “…sound calm? I’m not fucking calm, you old piece of shit. I’m just not a fucking moron. It’s twice now that you insulted my intelligence by implying I can’t put two and two together, asshole. So shove your cryptic old sage bullshit up your wrinkled ass and give me some fact before I decide to use you as a soul-magic Guinea pig.”
This time, Ambrose visibly recoils at my spat words. I don’t know what my expression looks like, but I can’t remember ever feeling quite so angry or eager to make someone else suffer.
It’s liberating in a way.
I don’t dislike the feeling.
“…I understand.” He takes a deep breath, and suddenly, he starts to change.
His baggy shirt, until then hanging on his wiry frame, fills out with muscles. His wrinkles vanish. His hair grows back, blond and thick. His hunched back straightened. The transformation isn’t gradual. It happens almost all at once. One instant I’m looking at a thin old man who seems like a strong gale could blow him away. One blink later, the one sitting on the bed looks like a stereotypical prince charming.
Ridiculous.
In my usual frame of mind, I’m might have overreacted, just for the sake of overreaction, but right now, all I do is scoff and raise an eyebrow half-an-inch. “That’s supposed to be impressive? You’re not the first shape-shifting ghost I’ve seen.”
“I can only take an appearance I’ve had in the past. That is hardly impressive, I am quite aware. I just thought my tale would have more weight with this appearance. Also, I am also not exactly a ghost. But let us go through things in order.”
“Whatever, get on with it.”
“Alright… Ahem. As you figured out, I am Ambrose Corbin, former General of the Erwyn Kingdom—or at least, the soul of Ambrose Corbin. When Victoria cursed me, she had no control over her powers. She had no training in using the magic she had awakened. Her curse was amateurish and misshapen. A good spell must have failsafe, a pattern the caster can use to unravel their own work. This one did not, and it trapped her as much as it trapped me.
“I had come riding to Bluerose on my fastest horse, a rare tamed monster, a [Dragonbred Steed]. Some of my most loyal subordinates were following me on normal horses and eventually caught up, although too late. Together, we tried to lift the curse, but to no avail.
“We tried for half a century, and while I was trapped in an immortal body, they did not. As they neared death, they came to me with a request. They wanted me to bind their souls to mine so that they remained in the mortal world as long as I did. I reluctantly accepted, and they formed a village to guard the unique entrance to the valley that houses Bluerose Castel. Using an artefact I gave them, they shrouded the whole area in a powerful soul barrier. That was the birth of Kansas, a hidden village of spirits.
“Later, we found out that, while the way to breaking the curse evaded us, we could transfer it to another male. One of my last living subordinates took over. As soon as I was free, I brutally aged, as if time was catching up with my body. I used magic to preserve myself while I travelled the world searching for a way to break the curse and free Victoria, but again, my search was in vain.
“I returned to Kansas and used a ritual to bind my soul to this place and keep it from dissipating over time, by anchoring it to a physical object. That was the rock I asked you to destroy last time we saw each other, by the way. And since then, we have remained here, immortal guardians. Occasionally, someone would wander by and we would send them to try to free Victoria. Even with all my years, I do not pretend to know everything there is about magic. I was hoping someone might succeed where I did not.”
I recline in the rocking chair. I’m not surprised so far. This is more or less what I had figured out, give or take a couple details. I already knew from reading his diary that Ambrose was a strong Soul Mage—if a stupid one.
Soul magic differs from necromancy. The latter rips souls from the afterlife and binds them in the mortal world. Soul magic only affects souls in the same plane of existence. In a way, necromancy is an offshoot from soul magic which includes aspects of summoning magic. Less broad, but no less powerful. You could say it’s a specialisation.
But this is still not what I want to hear.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“What about Dorothy?”
Ambrose sighs. “About three hundred years ago, a strong wave of necromantic power clashed against the village barrier. I went out to investigate and found a family under attack by a group of lower undead. I only could save the little girl’s soul. You know the rest.”
I do…
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“Where are they now?”
“Still hidden within my soul. In stasis. After hearing your talk of adventurers, I knew I had to travel the world once more to try and find someone able to bring Victoria’s soul out of that tower. For that, I needed the anchor to be destroyed, but that also left my soul weakened. In my current state, I cannot sustain my people in even a manifested ethereal form. Of course, that endeavour ended being pointless, since you broke out by yourself…along with that woman I do not recall sending.”
Well, at least that explains why players kept popping up in the valley. But how was he able to teleport people straight to the Rainbow Barrier of OPness in his supposed “weakened state”.
That’s suspiciously convenient to the plot.
…could the author have just missed that point?
Like I said, what author and plot are you referring about?!!
Shut up, I believe in whatever religion I want.
“Wait…You didn’t send Athena?”
“Is that the semi-orc’s name? No, I did not.”
“Then who?”
“Who knows, Young One? Maybe higher powers are at work.”
“Higher… wait a second… That—”
*ting*
A mail from the Great God of Chaos: I can neither confirm nor deny involvement.
UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… That guy.
I’m going to ignore him for now.
“…by the way. Couldn’t you have figured out that simply trying to transfer the curse to a woman was going to make it malfunction and partially break it?”
“We already could not figure out how it was working. How would we know how it would not work? And even then, how would have we known this would not have shattered Victoria’s soul?”
How convenient.
“Why are you so intent on taking her out of that castle anyway?”
“Because I figured out an incomplete way to break the curse and right some of the wrong I did to her, but it can only be done in a certain place, which is not Bluerose.”
“I see…”
“Yes.”
“That’s a follow-up quest, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“……”
“……”
“…In this low world, two can touch you. Once there was Death, and now me too. [Soul Grab].”
“Hmm? What did you just say, Young O-ooooow!!”
*pwoofff*
My fist connected with his face, sending him crashing into the wall. In fact, he splattered against the wall, exploding in vaporous volutes. A blue glow with flecks of red is fading from around my hands.
The great thing about [Soul Grab], which allows to “physically” interact with spirits, is that it uses my INT as the stat to determine the power behind my spiritual “strength”. Meaning I just punched the old fart with a strength even stronger than my former self, even stronger than Athena.
That oughta hurt.
I’ve no doubt that irritating old ghost will reform in no time, but… right now…
That felt fucking good.
“Asshole.”
Wouldn’t have said it better myself, Princess.
~ ~ ~ End of flasback *reverse whoooooshhhh* ~ ~ ~
Rule 132: Never trust the village Elder.
They’re the next worse thing after leprechauns.
*sigh*
So, I’ve come to term with what happened to Dorothy and the others… kind of… It still leaves a bad taste in my mouth and I feel like killing a bunch of somethings.
Right now, though, that doesn’t help me feel any better.
I really regret sending Thena away yesterday. At least, messing with her would have cheered me up.
…I know I’m not a good person.
Also, there’s simply something about her mere presence that I find calming. Like a big giant rock which I can lean against knowing it won’t crumble under me no matter what.
It might punch back, though.
Anyway. Now I can only wait for her to log back in, which probably won’t be happening anytime soon. She didn’t share much about herself, but from hints here and there I suspect she’s a student. She strikes me as the type who seriously keeps up with schoolwork—unlike “someone” else—and since she played the whole weekend almost without a break, I guess she’ll take at least today off.
Well, that depends on how much she really worries about “Princess Victoria”. Probably not much. It hurts a little to think that way, but realistically, she must think all of what happened in Martha’s house was some sort of scripted event.
I probably would.
I sigh again.
It’s a bit weird how much I grew attached to that irascible green muscle-ball so fast.
Hell, I spent this whole day wishing I could be with her—even if it was only to be scolded about something stupid I’d done—instead of listening to annoying teacher explaining something I would only really study two weeks about the finals anyway.
Maybe this is love?
Is it possible to fall in love so fast?
How do you recognise love?
Wow. Wow. Too deep, too fast. Take a break. Stop. Abort line of thought! It’s overheating in here. I didn’t bring my bikini.
“Maybe if I hurry home, she’ll be logged in?”
I shake my head…and immediately wince in pain.
Damn…
…fucking…
…headache!
After a whole weekend of gaming, I was sick like never before when I came out.
Must be my brain having a hard time coping with the messages my aroused female body was sending it. This game is needlessly realistic in some ways. Stupid hormones. I’ve masturbated during my stay in the tower, of course—I am a healthy young male who got unlimited access to a sexy female body—but somehow touching myself had never turned me on as much as Athena could with one single scathing glance of her furious golden eyes.
*COUGH*masochist*COUGH*
Shut up.
Well, it’s true I wouldn’t mind if she were the female to brutalise me.
Eh. Maybe I am a masochist, after all.
Trust me, there’s no ‘maybe’. There hasn’t for a very long time.
Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.
Do I need to remind you of the arachnes?
They weren’t that bad. The sex was amazing!
Nick. They eat their partners…during intercourse.
…Can I call my lawyer?
“FUCK!!”
What?
Who?
Not me.
I know that!
A loud shout and a vaguely familiar voice cause me and I to both stop arguing. My steps pause too and I cast a glance in the side hallway where the sound had come from. Looking around, I see no one else within sight or earshot. Thus, after pointlessly rubbing my hands in an evil way, I tiptoe like a cartoon robber in direction of the noise.
Cue the Pink Panther theme!
…
Truth be told, I am forcing myself a bit to act silly here.
I’m of mind that if being happy makes you smile, then smiling will eventually make you happy. Pavlov, you know? …I think? Probably not. I’m a bit rusted on my psychology classics. Mum wouldn’t be proud.
Anyway, that thinking might be a bit naïve, but I like being naïve.
Innocent children are the happiest people on the planet.
My silly walk—sponsored by John Cleese—soon brings me to a door which is cracked open. After another roundhouse glance, I lean closer and peek inside.
“…not why, but you told me you’d be home!”
Hey. Isn’t that Eva? Yep. I’d recognise that turtleneck anywhere, even from the back.
“You know I lost my keycard! I fucking told you! … Where? ... That’s two fucking cities over!?! Do you want me to take the damn bus all the way there?! Stop fucking with me! ... No. … Yeah. … No, I know you’re sorry. … No. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have shouted. … Yeah. No. I’ll figure something out. I’ll stay at Stephany’s or something. … Sure. See you. … Love you too, Sis. Bye.”
I watch as the diminutive girl works herself a heart attack, then calms down, then finally apologises and end the call…
Then hurls her phone across the room with yet another resounding:
“FUCK!!”
She does have a nice “fuck”. Not many can hold that note.
The device impacts the wall with a dull *thud*. Immediately, she covers her mouth with her hands and runs after the phone. “Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit. Oh, fuck. Not again! Fuck, fuck!”
I stare with a mix of consternation and sympathy.
As impulsive as usual, isn’t she?
But does she throw her phones often? I don’t really like phones, but even I won’t throw them…often.
Apparently, her phone survived, though, because I can hear her sigh in relief. Then she starts talking to herself.
Again, I sympathise.
“But what am I going to do? Steph already went home. Maybe I could call Amy? No, she’s at her boyfriend’s today. Shit.”
Alright, this is my cue.
“Vat zeeeeems to be de broblem?”
Perfect timing, perfect entrance, terrible fake accent.
“HIIIIII!!”
Expected reaction aaaaand—physical assault!
“Whoo-oops.”
This is getting predictable.
Aw~. Are we falling into a routine already?
You do know you sound like a psychotic stalker, right?
*thud*
Eva’s long-distance talking device crashes into the doorframe behind me.
Fufufufufu. Do not underestimate my phone-dodging skills, puny mortal! Mwahahahaha… hahaha… haha… ha… ha…… ha……… eh.
…
……
………sigh.
It’s just not coming today.
I’m out of juice.
That was refreshingly vulgar.
Seriously, please shut up.
Leaning down, I pick up the fallen device. It’s quite banged up, full of scratches and bumps, but it has a specially reinforced shell, the kind you’d expect a factory worker to have around their phones, so it looks like it’s not dead yet.
Uh. At least she’s prepared.
A rational girl with anger issues and who swears a lot…
Why does this remind me of someone?
…
……
………
…………!!!!!!!
Could it be…?!
…
Nah. Can’t be.
Hahahaha. No way. No way. That’d be just silly.
…
Alright, enough silliness, I have more present issues to deal with.
When don’t you have issues?
Shut up.
“Hey—”
“NOOO!! DON’T COME CLOSER!! Don’t… don’t… don’t…”
When I try to hand her phone back, Eva stumbles back. Her eyes anxiously search for an exit, but I’m standing between her and the only door. Her voice progressively dies down into sobs, as she crouches in the furthest corner away from me, arms hugging her legs and swaying back and forth softly.
I stand stunned, my hand holding her phone still half raised in her direction.
…I…did not realise it was this bad.
I guess all the stabbing and screaming should have clued me, but hit and run didn’t exactly scream “traumatised” to me.
Does she react like this to every man she sees?
And I kept coming at her…just because it was fun?
………Wow. I’m such a douchebag.
…
The thing is, though, even coming to that realisation, I still don’t feel like leaving her alone. There is something strangely enticing in seeing someone else so vulnerable. A better person probably would step back outside and call a female teacher, or Steph. That nurse can’t be too far yet.
But I’m not that better person.
So I sit on the floor, wincing when my leg reminds me it was broken just a couple weeks ago, then I wait.
After a while, Eva’s sobs turn to quieter sniffles. She takes off her glasses and wipes them and her eyes with her sleeve. She still won’t look in my direction, though.
“Better?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Do you need a place to stay for the night?”
“You were listening?” comes the accusing question.
“You were shouting.” No denial. No lie. That is the art of blame-shifting. Watching all those political debates was not a complete waste of time. “So, is there anything I can do to help?”
“…why?”
I start shrugging, then realises she can’t see me.
“Dunno… Maybe because I opened the guts of a teddy bear, sacrificed it to the Cookie Monster and consulted the augur of Dough who told me we were intertwined by the strands of cookie-fate and helping you out at this precise moment was my purpose in existence?”
“……”
“……”
“…what?”
“I’m random and I just felt like it. Also, I seem to have an unhealthy fixation on you.”
“………you are really bad at not sounding like a total creep, you know?”
“I like to believe my creepy honesty helps put people at ease. If nothing else, it does keep them too imbalanced to stay focused on their worries. Aren’t you feeling better?”
“...A little. Yeah.”
“See. Does this happen often?”
“……”
“Steph told me about your problem.”
“…She did?”
“Yeah, when she told me to stop bothering you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I’m an ass.”
“You are.”
“Compliments will get you nowhere with me.”
“……”
“So, do you need anywhere to stay? From what I creepily overheard, you’re locked outside of your own home and your sister is away with the only key.”
She shivers, and I think her breathing is getting louder and less regular. I hope she’s not going to have a panic attack.
Dial the stalker talk down a bit.
“My home’s not too far,” I continue. “I have a guestroom. Take it as my way to atone for all I’ve been putting you through these past few weeks. Here.” I slide her phone on the floor in her direction. On it, I’ve lain my ID card. “You’re phone has an ID scanner, right? Why don’t you zap mine in and send someone a message to tell them who you’ll be with? My home address is in there too. Or you can set up a delayed message to the police so that they come and shoot me with a sniper if you don’t turn up tomorrow at school. I’m okay with anything really.”
She doesn’t respond, but after a few seconds of hesitancy, I see her pick up both the phone and the card and fumble with both for a little while before sliding the card back without looking. She was way off the mark, but that was sort of cute, so I’ll forgive her for forcing me to stand up and walk three metres.
“I’ve sent a message to Steph and my sister. If anything happens to me, Hellen will crucify you.”
Eva’s sister is named Hellen. Mental post-it.
And she crucifies people.
Double mental post-it.
“Please tell her to get in line with all the women who want to impale me.”
“Women want to…impale you?”
“……Why do I feel like you just thought of something highly inappropriate for a first civil conversation?”
“……”
I shiver. Please don’t bring back those memories. My sphincters still have nightmares at night. And my sphincters don’t know what night is—because that’s where the sun never shines. Which means they are stuck in a perpetual realm of horror, and I’m not making any sense anymore.
Get back on track, Nick.
“Just for the record, I don’t have any fetish about women impaling me.”
“…Okay.”
“I really don’t.”
“Okay.”
“I really, really don’t, okay?”
“Yes, yes, I understand. I believe you.”
Good. Glad we cleared that up.
Okay.
Let’s go.
I pocket my ID and walk to the door. Hand on the handle, I look back over my shoulder. Eva is on her feet and facing me, but she is resolutely staring at the floor.
“So, you comin’?”
“…Please go out first, I’ll follow.”
I walk out of the room and down the hallway a bit. I slow down and listen. A few moments later, I hear the sound of a closing door and soft footsteps. A small smile tugs at my lips and I pick up the pace again.
We make it out of the building and into the street before the silence starts getting to me. I would normally just listen to music, but it doesn’t feel right when I’m not alone…not that we are talking…which is the problem.
Ugh.
Conversation topic… Conversation topic… Dammit. Why is it so hard to find something to say when I’m actually trying to say something pertinent?!
“I have a cat. Well, it’s not really mine, but he spends his days in my apartment. It’s not a problem, is it?”
“No.”
“……”
“……”
Aaaaaaand there goes my attempt at conversation.
I sigh.
We continue walking in silence. Well, as silent as a densely populated city can be. Cars rush on the street, their electric motors noiseless but the rubbing of tires on the pavement still pretty loud to my ears—please finish developing those hovercars already. People are shouting into their phones as if they had to actually be heard over whatever distance separated them from their interlocutor, even though everyone should know better in the age of augmented reality glasses. Speakers on the street pour some popular tune, too low to make out what song it is, too loud to be ignored, just at the worst volume possible and adding to the ambient buzzing.
Some say you feel most alone in a crowd. I always thought there was no silence more oppressive than incoherent background noise.
My gaze drifts to the side. We are walking past a clothing shop. There’s a pretty white dress in the window. It sort of looks like a warmer version of what I wear as Vicky. Simple, white, elegant. I pause when my reflection overlays with the mannequin. Tall, broad frame, slightly out of shape, I overflow on every side and dwarf the dress. My beard has been growing back over the weekend too. For some reason, the itchy thing is bothering me more than usual.
I sigh again, shake my head, and resume walking.
As I slowly forget Eva is even following me, my thoughts drift back to Dorothy’s smiling face, then to her tears on our last meeting, when she was begging me not to leave, then begging me to come back, even though she probably—no, surely knew she wouldn’t be there when I eventually did.
Sigh.
I’m really not feeling good today.
Today sucks.
Probably because it’s Monday.
“Are you alright?”
I almost jump in fright. I’d completely forgotten she was there. I glance back, and Eva quickly averts her gaze. I sigh, again, and turn back forwards—just in time to avoid walking into a lamppost. Who puts those things in the middle of the sidewalk?
“…I’ll be fine.”
“But you’re not.”
“No, I’m not.”
I don’t know why I said that. I wouldn’t even admit it to Daniel, and he’s my best friend.
I guess… having seen Eva so messed up and vulnerable earlier makes me less self-conscious about admitting stuff like that to her. Daniel is a wonderful guy and a wonderful friend, but sometimes he just seems a little too perfect. It’s hard to admit to any weakness to a guy like that.
“Want to talk about it?” Eva asks from behind me.
“Would it help?”
“It’s what my shrink keeps telling me.”
I can’t see her, but I can almost hear the shrug in her tone.
“Does it, then?”
“Sometimes.”
Silence settles back between us until we turn the next corner, after which I feel compelled to say something.
“…It’s nothing, really.”
Yeah, right. That’s basically screaming the opposite. Like “I don’t want to talk about it” is just a giant neon sign shouting to the world “PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT IT!! I DON’T FEEL LIKE I CAN BRING MYSELF TO SHARE ON MY OWN!!”
Eva agrees. “Doesn’t sound like nothing. I can tell. You… You look like how I feel almost all the time.”
Al…right…? Is it bonding time, or something? A crooked chuckle creeps up my throat.
“Must suck to be you.”
“It’s hell.”
“My condolences.”
“……”
“……”
After another ten metres of silence, I let out my deepest sigh yet. “It’s just…something shitty happened, and I know I couldn’t have changed what happened, but somehow it feels like I should have, you know? I keep telling myself it’s not my fault, that there was nothing I could do, but—”
“The guilt eats you up, and you can’t help but sink deeper and deeper into it the more you try to push it away,” Eva low murmur interrupts me, voicing my own thought almost word for word as it was forming in my mind.
I nearly trip.
“Ye-Yeah… I guess that’s it. I… I’m not really that introspective. I usually am good at ignoring my own feelings when they’re on the darker side.”
“I envy you if that’s the case.”
“……”
She’s kind of gloomy when she’s not angry or freaking out, isn’t she?
Silence once again settles back in, but somehow, despite the tone of this last exchange, it doesn’t feel as oppressive as before.
“You were right. It did help,” I eventually admit.
“At least one of us is feeling better.”
How depressing.
“I kind of want to hug you, right now.”
“Don’t. I’ll scream.”
“You’re funny.”
“…Not something people usually say about me.”
“You are, though.”
She doesn’t reply after that, and I don’t feel the need to restart the conversation. The previously burdening silence now feels light and companionable.
I look up.
Is the sky brighter than a few minutes ago?
Shouldn’t be. It’s getting late after all.
I chuckle.
Maybe today’s not such a bad day, after all.
* * * * *