Peter

  Peter woke up very late in the day feeling gloomier. He had dreamt about his mom. He saw her for a brief moment. She was so beautifully dressed in what seemed like a white medieval attire. She looked healthy and full of life but quite relatively younger.

  He decided to stay back at home. He wasn't in the right mind to socialize with people. It would be totally unfair to snap at people who had genuine concern for his well-being. That also felt strange. He wouldn't have cared. He would have done it either way to fuel his ego. But for some reason he felt different. He looked at the world from a different perspective now. He understood better how people felt and what pain was.

  He went into his mom's room to see if he could find anything eye-catching and while away the time. How clean and serene her room was stunned him every time he stepped into it. It seemed like the calmest place in the world.

  He looked around to check for anything that could catch his interest. He saw her pajama on the hanger. It had been left untouched since she went to the hospital. He walked to it and smelled the top. Her essence was still there. It was fading but present. He put on the top over the shirt he was wearing and allowed the smell to envelop him.

  He felt something hard against his abdomen. He didn't know what it was. He dipped his hand into the pajama. He discovered it had an inner pocket. He brought out the content. He recognized his mom's vitamin pill box. He'd often seen her pop its contents. Dad always brought it for her from any of his travels, so she always had an endless supply of it. He remembered how his father asked if he had seen the pill box the night he came back. He told him he hadn't seen it, though he was bewildered his father was looking for it.

  He popped open its lid and took a peek at its contents. The pills were somewhat oval and dark blue in color. Quite an unusual color and shape for a vitamin pill.

  He walked to her dresser and placed the pill box at the extreme end of the last drawer and closed it.

  He walked around her room briefly, checking out the poems hanging on her walls till he sighted a piano. He had forgotten about it. Completely wiped out of his memory.

  It was his old piano. He had learned it at one point in his younger years. His mother bought one for his eighth birthday and made him learn it. She always fancied pianists and wanted him to be one.

  He became really good at it at some point and played it while she sat beside him and listened. She always talked about the joy and calmness it brought her watching him play while she listened.

  His tutor, Mrs. Bonnie, often referred to him as a talent, much to the delight of his mother. But with time he grew bored of it and pursued other interests. One that would get the attention of girls, which was football. Mom complained at first about not attending tutoring practices and then not practicing at all, but soon got tired of complaining and gave up on her son ever becoming a pianist. She never spoke about it again. Deep down she must have been very sad and disappointed. He sighed.

  He removed the cover. It was a bit dusty. Mere staring at it flooded him with bittersweet memories. He looked for a rag to dust it. He found one and cleaned it thoroughly. It looked so beautiful. He remembered she once told him she bought it for three thousand dollars. It totally was worth it, at least for the aesthetics.

  He found a stool to sit on and tried pressing a few notes. He was trying to get the hang of it. It seemed so odd. He felt alien to it. He tried one of the easiest pieces he could remember. It was the very first piece he could play perfectly then. Beethoven's Fur Elise.

  It sounded awful and he was completely off key. He tried again and again till he started getting the hang of it. He finally played it to a certain level of satisfaction and proceeded to Canon, then Bluestone Alley by Congfei Wei. Each played perfectly after a series of trial and error.

  He didn't know where their names nor the ability to play them were coming from, but they came back to him. With more time passed he got even better. It felt like he opened a door in his brain, keeping the memories from him as they flooded his mind. He kept playing his heart out till he grew tired. He laid on the bed to get a shut-eye.

  He woke up quite later in the day. He'd completely lost track of time. He looked outside the window to see it getting dark. He felt an intense hunger. He realized he hadn't eaten all day. He contemplated on what to eat. Either to take a walk and get roadside junk on the way or perhaps find a restaurant to dine. Either way, he wanted to leave the house. He'd remained indoors a whole day. He was feeling cooped up.

  He stepped into the bathroom to take a bath. He hadn't taken a bath all day either. He stared at himself in the mirror. He looked weak and tired. Well, he actually was. There was a time he would have spent a quarter of an hour in front of the mirror checking himself out before taking a bath. He sighed.

  He came out of the bathroom dripping wet. He wiped his body and looked for something to wear. He picked a T-shirt and a baggy trouser. He looked for a hoodie. The nights had been very chilly these past few days. He found a very big black one. He was quite satisfied with it. It would serve the purpose of keeping out the cold.

  He stepped out of the house. It was quite darker than he saw earlier. He checked the time on his phone. It was past 8 PM. He must have spent an awful lot of time in the bathroom and picking what to wear. He sighed.

  He started walking. The street was bright as usual. There were more people on the streets relative to yesterday. That was no surprise considering the difference in time.

  It was a bit rowdy. Homeless people loitered the street. Couples walked hand in hand on the pedestrian walkway. He walked down the paths he took yesterday night. He knew exactly where he was going and what he was doing but feigned ignorance.

  He arrived at the front of the restaurant. He hesitated a bit before stepping inside.

  Priscilla

  The night dragged. Only a handful of customers had come in, and Priscilla didn’t mind the lull. After her mother’s breakdown yesterday, she couldn’t afford to get home late, not for the next two weeks.

  She was halfway through Phil’s new message when the door opened. She didn’t look up at first. A low murmur rippled through her coworkers instead.

  She walked to him to take his order. He looked quite concentrated on whatever he was doing on his phone.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Her head lifted.

  Peter stood just inside the doorway.

  Her chest tightened. What was he doing here?

  He scanned the room before choosing an empty table.

  She walked over to take his order. He didn’t notice her, eyes fixed on his phone.

  "May I take your order?" she said with a bright smile.

  He looked up from his phone and stared with his usual blank cold stare. She handed him the menu and watched him read through it.

  "Do you have any dish in mind I could try?" he asked.

  She could feel the butterflies dancing in her tummy. "Then perhaps chicken and waffles should do the trick," she said with a smile.

  "Sounds nice."

  "I will be back in a moment," she said.

  She entered the kitchen and came back with his food soon enough. He was very concentrated on his phone. She set down his food with a smile plastered on her cheek.

  "Thank you," he said with a smile that disappeared almost immediately.

  "You are welcome," she replied under her breath.

  She watched him from the counter as he ate hungrily. He had quite an appetite. Her female coworkers were still staring at him like he was some kind of alien. It wasn't their fault. Who could possibly resist his charms?

  He signaled to her when he was done. She went to him to pack his dishes.

  "When do you all close in here?" he asked.

  She was confused at first by the question and the reason behind his sudden interest.

  "10 PM on a regular night," she replied.

  "It's almost half an hour to 10 PM," he said, checking his phone.

  "Do you mind me sitting here for the last 30 minutes?"

  "Of course," she blurted out. "Yeah, you can. Take your time."

  "Thanks."

  She went back to the kitchen to take care of the dishes. She came out after doing it as quickly as possible. He was still maintaining the same fixed stance and deeply concentrated on his phone but looked up in the direction of the counter every few minutes.

  "Is he waiting for someone?" Clyde, one of her coworkers, asked.

  "I have no idea."

  She ran down the clock, stealing a peek at him at every chance till it was time to go home. Her perception of time and events seemed to have changed because half an hour went by in a thrice.

  She was packing her stuff and getting ready to leave. She saw him rising up to leave from the corner of her eyes. She raised her head and watched him exit through the door. She was a bit disappointed. She didn't know what she was hoping for, but she was disappointed to see him leave.

  They finished packing up and it was time to leave. She bade her coworkers goodnight and walked out of the restaurant. And there he was, standing in the cold night. He looked to be hanging up a call.

  "Oh, are you ready?" he asked.

  It seemed more of a statement than a question. She watched as he turned to leave and walked in the direction of her house. She was stunned. She stood there like an idiot. Could he be possibly waiting for her? Did he come here to walk her home? It was most unlikely. It was probably a coincidence. She was jolted out of the trance by his voice.

  "Are you not coming?"

  She looked up to see he had walked quite a distance.

  "I am," she replied calmly in contrast to her screaming thoughts.

  She walked towards him. She grinned when he waited for her to catch up to him.

  They walked side by side in silence. She resisted the urge to ask him questions. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, so she allowed it to prolong. She kept stealing glances at him. It was absolutely ridiculous. Her heart kept skipping a beat every time she did.

  The recent nights had been freezing cold and tonight was no exception. In her spirit of forgetfulness, of course she'd forgotten her jacket. She was feeling very cold. She rubbed her palms together to create some kind of warmth.

  "You are cold," he said solemnly. "It's really freezing. Where is your jacket?"

  "I've forgotten it at home," she said.

  "You walk home every night in this freezing weather and still managed to forget your jacket."

  It probably sounded stupid to him. It seemed so to her. Great, Priscilla, now you've managed to look like a total idiot to him, she thought. Then he did something she wouldn't have imagined in her wildest delusion. He took off his hoodie and handed it to her. She hesitated from bewilderment. She didn't know what to do. She took the hoodie from him. He stretched his hand to her again. Did he notice her hesitation and want his garment back?

  "Your bag," he said with his outstretched hand.

  Oh, her bag. He wanted to help hold on to her bag while she wore the hoodie. Her imagination was running circles around her. She grinned at him while handing him the bag. She wore the oversized garment extending to her knee and covering her whole torso. She embraced the sudden warmth and smiled at the mixture of the smell of citrus and cinnamon that enveloped her. It felt heavenly.

  "Thank you," she said.

  He said nothing.

  They continued walking in silence with her imagination running wilder. She looked around her. There were a few people still on the streets as usual. Most looking menacing and some few seemingly decent ones. A guy walked toward her direction, facing her directly with a stick of weed in his grasp. He looked stoned. She froze with fear. She felt Peter grab her hand and draw her out of his path as he walked past her. She looked into his eyes. He could see the fear in her.

  "You know, you get scared easily for someone who walks at night," he said.

  "I am hearing that quite often these past few days." "Then why are you still outside at this time of the night?"

  "It's quite complicated," she replied.

  He nodded his head in affirmation.

  She looked down to see he still hadn't let go of her hand. She screamed internally.

  She was pleasantly surprised when he took the right turn at every crossroad. He remembered the way to her home. That was something quite special. It was just yesterday she showed him. He probably had a retentive memory. Not everyone's memory was as volatile as hers. It was nothing special.

  She tried to shut out the conflicting voices in her head. It was a perfect night and she should enjoy the moment.

  "Why don't you humor me again?" he asked.

  She stared at him. He seemed to be in a mood to listen, and he always did, so sure, why not.

  She blabbed his ear off again, saying every humorous and non-self-embarrassing tale that came to mind.

  Of course, this time she got tired quite quickly.

  She wanted to ask him a few questions. She resisted the urge to ask why he was in the restaurant to avoid a telling off.

  "Your turn to talk," she said. "I've been doing most of the talking."

  He was quiet for a moment. "I have nothing to say, really. My mind is blank at the moment."

  "We can just walk in silence," she offered.

  He nodded.

  They walked the rest of the distance in silence till her house came into view. He looked down at their hands in obscure surprise, like he wasn't aware he'd been holding on to it the whole time. He had been holding on to both throughout the whole walk. He released her hand with an awkward smile and a flush of red on his cheeks.

  And like that the perfect night came to an end. She didn't want it to.

  "Goodnight."

  "Night," he said with a smile.

  "Okay then," she said. "See you around."

  She had to go now. It was becoming quite apparent she was stalling. She turned to leave.

  "Wait," he said.

  She turned back to him yearningly, unsure of what he wanted but ludicrously hopeful.

  "What's your name?"

  "Hmmm."

  "You told me everything but your name."

  It was true. She didn't make any mention of her name today nor yesterday.

  "So what's your name?"

  "Priscilla," she replied with a grin.

  "A lovely name," he said. "My name is Peter."

  He didn't just presume she knew his name, which she did. The whole school did. He told her regardless. That was quite humble.

  "Alright, Priscilla, see you around," he said with a radiant smile.

  "Yeah."

  She kept the grin plastered on her face, feeling quite ecstatic. She also noticed he waited again till she was safely inside and the door was safely closed behind her. She peeked through the window to see him turn and walk away. She continued staring till he was totally out of view. She was nearly bouncing on her toes in excitement. It was at that moment she realized she still had his hoodie.

  There was this tingling feeling in her tummy. Now she had an excuse to seek him out tomorrow. She resisted the urge to sleep in it. That would be really weird, even for her. She took it off and folded it carefully into her bag to avoid forgetting it tomorrow. It would be awkward if he asked for it and she was unable to produce it.

  She heard her phone ring. She picked it up.

  "Hello."

  It was dead silence at the other end.

  "Hello... who's there?"

  Still, there was dead silence. She hung up.