Such a beautiful, refreshing morning to be rejected by a short message.

Today, before noon, God blessed me with two sudden epiphanies condemning my already tear-jerker chest. On a higher level...

The bus wrenched back and forth, up and down, with my congested spirit. At this hour, like canned sardines, we passengers supported each other so it would crush no unfortunate soul under our insensitive feet.

I checked my not-so-bright screen several times to be certain of what was written in the brief message. My so exhausted brain formulated hundreds of explanations, thousands of justifications. Translated an infinity of excuses for the profound reasoning of those tiny little letters. None seemed convincing enough. Others were very dark. For my rational balance, I feared dwelling in their peppery mazes.

At each station, a few passengers disembarked, and more joined the experience. The perfume of sweat jammed into a locked, badly ventilated space suffocated me. My ancient ailment is slowly rising from its grave. Hallucinating after a restless night, there my destination approached the horizon of my sight.

The new semester had begun, but instead of earning the recognition I thirsted for, my life escalated into a tempestuous rage of disruption. It must be swallowed before I will lose myself in the storm.

Walking the law college corridors. Ominous stares tailed after my back. Sinister whispers hovered close to my ears. The unseen wind blew in my direction, flirting above my chosen path. Whispering rumors printed Olvera’s nasty smirk within the folds of my thoughts.

Unaware, lecture by lecture ate the remaining time of the day. I sighed in relief. The bad first day of my return to college reached its finishing line.

At the dormitory entrance to my assigned room. The newfound tranquility in its hallways chased out my weariness.

Once inside, I felt absorbed by the hollowness of the calm, the terrible kind. My limbs tensed and caution clothed my ongoing steps.

As I cut the stillness towards my room, I felt like I was navigating a curfew area. No one crossed paths with me, no one even seemed present. The doors locked, while the inhabitants seemed as if they had announced their departure.

The key blocked rounds in the lock, arousing a huge deal of misgiving. When I finally opened the door, the horror of a messy view polluted my eyes.

Even my tiny, warm room didn’t escape the tragedy. Such a trauma for a person with a high sense of order and arrangements. Books on the floor, table upside down, broken items, spilled liquid, muddy footprints…

Frozen in the same spot, I stared for a long time, reminiscing about the lost beauty of an arranged home, struggling to ingest the aftermath of an explosion. All its ingredients had finally reached the combustion stage.

With an angry swing, the door closed tight behind. The echoes of the hit faded slowly in silence. I pulled my weight above the tainted bed. Sidestepping the uncleaned parts. Helplessly accepting the reality, steadily sinking into the renunciation vortex.

My mind turned blank, soothed within the embrace of slumber. My body fell, lying on its side. I chant a mantra for comfort. I persuaded my wounds. It was just a bad dream.

A tired mind will always turn things monstrous, uglier than what they are… Only rest will refill my exhausted sanity…

*** *** ***

Shrouded in solitude, in the dead of the night, I opened my eyes. While I washed the dizziness of deep sleep, my heart longed that everything of the past two days dulled in the realm of nightmares.

“Let’s break up.”

Those three simple words, as clear as the crystal river, amassed a great deal of complexity.

The sound of flowing water in the bathroom filled the emptiness of my seclusion. I let my face soak under the falling droplets. Through each splash, my mind drifted into the sea of yesterday.

After the sunrise, I wove my way to the cafeteria, surveying left and right the possibility of an unwanted surprise.

Inside the big space, the smell of cheap food saluted my breath. It wasn't packed as it should be, yet it wasn’t vacant. I adjusted myself in an acceptable spot, ingesting the flavorless plate, spoon by spoon, evading the up-raising sensation of nausea.

On my left, a quick hand posed a dumb phone beside me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I glanced at the shadow who passed ahead, then jumped into the front seat. Not long after, I felt a mass above my head and a clap behind my back, teeth masticating food and words at the same time.

“You heard the news, big boy?”

“Yes,” I replied, unimpressed. “Thank you for not notifying me about the relocation.”

“You are welcome.” She lifted the canteen tray from my head and sat down next to me. Her restless, oily fingers dismissed the grace of napkins and wiped the oil on the dumb phone. My phone. The last caress for my nausea to turn into vomit.

I ran to the nearest washroom.

When I returned, triumphed lips smirked at my grumpy face.

“What?” The man who brought the dumb phone asked, “Your mysophobia returned?”

Without looking at him, I returned to my seat: “I don’t have Mysophobia.” Deporting the dish far from my direct sight. Both of my so-called friends stared in disbelief, and Cali's mouth never kept shut when it was supposed to:

“Yes, and I am your beloved Anna.”

Grumpy, half-opened eyes, I admitted: “We broke… She dumped me.”

“Huh…” Cali gasped, almost choking on the chewed food in her mouth.

“You killed her little brother.” Travis finally joined the talk show, yet in his statement rose a stain of craftiness, contrary to Cali's naïve sarcasm.

“From where did those rumors come from?” I asked while eying him indirectly. Sickness rose again in my gut, noticing him consuming my leftovers.

He kept still while eating, “Aren’t we friends?” There, my futile attempt at convincing him, grooming it with a tone of hopeless request. Unexpectedly, it worked most of the time.

He adored being asked for a favor. In more precise terms, he loved being entreated.

“Since you are so smart, you can guess.” The spoon stuck between his lips and I contemplated for billions of times why I am associating myself with those people.

“I don’t want to?” I stated while I shifted my gaze to Cali, snatching the dumb phone from her hands. Rubbing the greasy dirt with a napkin.

“Then you know..”

I turned my head to see that damn spoon stationed near my nose. I could smell it. My stomach grumbled. My guess, he sought insight into the details he will share. Through the same napkin, I moved the spoon from my sight above the tray, then I let it fall.

“The thieves got into the house. I was the one who discovered his corpse.”

“And?”

They both said in synchronization. Their mouths watered for more details.

“The same routine…” I said, cutting to the chase: “I got dragged into the police station to give my statement.”

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“The poor kid.” Cali mourned, “What bad luck.”

“For me or the boy?” I tested her sincerity.

“Both.” She was oblivious… As I became certain that she didn’t know or hear anything. I wished I could say the same about the man before us.

“Maybe she dumped you out of shock,” Cali added, while I waited for Travis's intervention.

He was far too preoccupied with my leftovers than with the conversation. I know when he feigned disinterested. It meant something distasteful. To encourage that jaw to articulate words, I alluded:

“One of the red care harem?” He licked his fingers dry after he used them to wipe the plate. “There are a lot of them on our turf.”

“Anna picked up my call.” At last, he spoke. I knew it. There was something in his behavior that screamed bad omens. “She is devastated, in a really awful way.”

“That is expected.” It was a tragedy, after all. My sanity flipped upside down and I am accustomed to those nasty blows, I suppose.

“No, Kieran.” He snapped, and it shocked both of us. “She really thinks, she is convinced that you are the murderer.”

The freezing wind roared in my direction, paralyzed my body, my fears turned right. The conversation I overheard that night echoed in my head. Finally, her mother's constant blabbing played into her brain.

Searching for clarification, an illustration, I scanned his face. Letting my emotions drive. Only Cali's earlier suggestion, I found to rephrase: “She must be under the shock.” For more credibility, I attached: "Don't forget her father's illness, now her little brother is dead.”

“Murdered.”

“Murdered.” I reverberated, as detached as I could from the actual act.

The next minute followed our give and take sheathed in contemplation, reminiscing our already spoken words. I craved to break the ice and change the depressing subject.

Cali finally finished her meal. She refused to look at us. Checking her reflection on the metallic tray, I glanced at her profile, afraid she would grab my arm with her unwashed hand in an instant of forgetfulness.

In front of me, Travis surveyed better than a hawk. I could feel his hateful glares, bullets meant to burst my head.

We never liked each other, anyway. He played the victim of unfulfilled love, and I was the gentleman who stole his princess. Why did we tolerate each other all this time? Well, I was a gentleman, and he was of great use.

Such an example; whom I would call for quick laptop repair and to get myself a free dumb phone. That personality trait made him unable to refuse a request. While I built him the opportunity to be chivalrous in front of Anna. it was a win-win situation and I enjoyed the display.

Sometimes his hate spurs over the threshold of his heart. I bet that the disgusting way he ate my leftovers meant to trigger my nausea… on purpose.

Cali was the overload that came with the main package. I needed to bear. Dear me, how my Anna succeeded in being friends with this unrefined, crude alien all those years.

“Travis…” I confronted the cannon nozzle. “You don’t know how much you saved me.” I watched as his hostility wither, “I really needed to replace my dead phone.” He is truly a good man in some ways. I hope he will find a pleasant woman soon, for his jealousy will leave me alone.

However much on my mind, it surprised me Olvera wasn't the primary source of the rumors. Who wasn't? Travis won't be able to spread the fake details on the campus by himself.

The dumb phone firmly secured in my grip while making use of my closing speech, I stood up, leaving. My aim marked accomplished, worth the misery of uncleaned fast-food, in rather uncleansed place that I avoid unless obliged.

Before I strayed far enough, Cali's not-so-low confession to Travis reached my ears: “Now, I think I have a chance with him.”

I pictured her oily finger on the phone; “Only in your wildest dreams, Cali.” I breathed out. My face took a serious shade. It was a quick recess. Now let’s concentrate more on the most pressing matters.

I won’t lie, I professed Anna’s message just for the sake to certificate my… My… My what? Friends, acquaintances, rivals, tormentors? reaction, hence my conscience won’t torture me when I violate this draining, complicated relationship.

Today, I decided to skip the lectures for a far more important meeting.

The handful of hours of rest helped me adjust to my new reality. I plopped down, mulling over the police interrogation. Pulling each and every bit of conversation from the depth of my mind's storage. Reproducing them. All the sounds and pictures formed an old movie tape from my childhood.

My grandfather's ring refracted the sneaking light. I surveyed the road through the shop glass facade in anticipation till the server stood, blocking my view.

“Sir, did you decide?”

I hastily opened the menu. It just happened that the shop has a variety of coffee, except I am more of a tea person than a coffee person; “Water please.”

“Yes, sir.” she kept hovering over my head.

“I rather wait for my companion.”

“Oh..”

When the view cleared again, I witnessed a big black car desperately maneuvering to park in the small spot left between two other cars. I sighed. What up with drivers these days?

In dizziness, I relaxed my chin on the back of my hand, observing the show and waiting for the poor end. The driver will certainly hit one of the cars at his side.

The car crooked in a dangerous position before the passenger next to the driver’s seat descended. My eyes strained wide. That figure, the classy look, aroused a familiar touch of nostalgia.

The man unlocked the driver's door. And for the love of god…

In disbelief, my body uplifted forward. The surprise dangled from my breath when Evelyn's graceful frame slipped under her fiancé's careful supervision.

I never knew she was very bad with big cars…

My eyes followed her while her fiancé corrected her awful parking position.

Gosh, If it was my car, I would never have let her behind the steering wheel only after extensive hours of training.

I relaxed again into my seat, wondering why she brought the third wheel with her. This was supposed to be our secret meeting, our secret operation. And I am too burned up to officially welcome the man faking a smile.

Engrossed in studying Evelyn's merry visage as she savored the ordered colorful desserts, oblivious to my arching pain of two consecutive days, maybe more.

I puffed air, marveling if she received my message, or if she had read it completely and understood my current situation.

“So, this is your Kieran?” Emery relaxed next to her. Both dwelt in an air of intimacy. “All your brothers are ladies killers.” He winked. So much for my broken heart. I stared away, surveying the other customers.

“Enchanté.” He grinned, stretching his hand for a shake.

“Hmm.” I received him, executing a manner of politeness. No more and no less.

Again when my gaze fell upon Evelyn's face, I noticed something I missed upon a first examination. Something foreboding coated in a false clam. My resolve to be the conversation starter waned.

I waited, drinking the cold water, arranging the spoon and the fork in parallel lines. Eyes jumping between the void of other customers to Emery’s content countenance. I judged Evelyn didn’t tell him an ounce of our shared secrets.

A thought was proven wrong in the following seconds.

“So romantic, the flower bouquet you have ordered for the Marchetti’s house.” He said: “You really impressed me, exploiting the language of the flowers to communicate private messages between the two of you.” He added, and I gasped, glaring at her.

Without wasting a glance at my face, she defended the red straw near her jaws: “After your short notice, I couldn’t move this fast by myself.” She didn’t sound or look apologetic. Instead, irritated, bordering the edges of anger.

I did not argue, no counterattack.

Our table sunk into a bitter mood. Emery's merry expression wasn’t an exception.

Thanks to his insinuation, some questions in my head washed off the dusty confusion on my awareness.

"Since when did you know you were targeted?" Emery demanded on behalf of Evelyn, however, I evaded the question by asking another one:

"Did you manage to get your hands on the Marchetti confession that incriminated me?"

This question seemed so uninteresting from Emery's point of view, so irrelevant. Yet in my eyes, there was nothing more important than the answer I am going to get, at least for the moment.

Muddled, his widened eyes searched for Evelyn, which in turn studied each expression on my serious face.

She said. Her finger danced, navigating the shallow depth of her purse. "Oh, my dear Kieran, what kind of bad techniques earned you all this hate?"

She put a memory card on the table, "This is a copy of the interrogation as well as the irrefutable proofs of your innocence."

Before my fingers claimed it, Evelyn retrieved the tiny item: "You need to thank Emery for it."

Thanks was a word that carried a tricky meaning in our family. The McCarthy never considered the simplistic usage of the word a thanks worthy of acceptance. In our family, thanking someone for something denoted giving something material in return.

A nervous smile directed at the happy man next to my sister.

"Just happy to be of use." He stated, meaning entirely something else. I read it in his reaction. "If possible, if you think I will be of help with anything, don't be shy, you can ask me." I knew it.

I take Evelyn didn't privy him to the fine details, yet she thrilled him to the point that he wanted to be a part of it.

My gaze shift to my sister gauging her desire. In every bit of her demeanor, the yearning to involve her man in our bid screamed loud.

Evelyn, as sly as ever. When she wished for something, she plays her card to make the target do it for her. Excluding every possibility for an opinion.

"I will count on your services." Defeated, how coil I say no to my savior. My eyelashes swung down, protecting the discontent from befouling the mood.

"How did you find out that you are targeted?"

The same wrong question traveled amidst the reluctant lips then returned to my table.

The right question should be; since when I noticed I was tailed? Whatever. Let them dazzle by the genius they believe I possessed.

"When I rode the train home, two suspicious persons accompanied me, my first doubt started from there."

Priceless the admiration I received. Albeit tinted fake and exaggerated, for I had no idea they targeted me in such a gruesome way.

"How is your mysterious girlfriend, I mean, she must be in danger?"

In her voice vaporized the flavor of scolding. Eventually, she found the time to show her upset from the fact that I didn't tell her about my girlfriend.

There was a reason for that, a very important one.

"Well, for the time being," I said, skimming the subject.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me who she is." Her voice wasn't okay at all, "You can tell Emery about her, at least to receive the necessary protection."

I took the memory card, tucked it in a secured place, my grandfather's ring. Unexpectedly, this move enlightened her. The wrong way.

"Kieran? Who is your girlfriend?" She ordered. My eye fled the direct connection.

"Kieran?" the authority in her tone burst, akin to my mother's fury. I bet she overheard some parts of the recorded interrogation.

"Kieran? No…" Her head shook left and right in disapproval. "Don't tell me your girlfriend is the daughter of the man we want to destroy.