Having Fred walk me home turned out to be a good idea afterall. We took the route around town for some fresh air. We also dropped by the pharmacy to buy medicine and then he dragged me along to a local street vendor who makes the best hot chicken porridge.
“I never knew about this stall at all.” The porridge feels light to eat in a bad stomach, yet it didn’t hold back on flavor. There is a hint of ginger that compliments well with the hot chicken broth.
“I always go here whenever I feel like to be comforted.” He said happily. He’s good at recommendations and he gloats about it. “I hope it worked for you too.” He said while looking at the two bowls that I’ve finished.
It seems like he’s a usual customer here since the old man talks to him casually. He even gave him an extra serving for free.
The 20-minute walk turned into two hours.
And now, we’re walking on the curb towards my house. I can see the two-story gated house that blends so well with the apartment complexes around it.
“Let me know if you have to take tomorrow off to rest. I can cover for you.” I nodded and remembered that we left the restaurant in a hurry; which means that we didn’t finish our evening clean up.
As if reading my thoughts, he said “...and don’t worry about tonight. I’ll go back extra early tomorrow to organize everything in time for the opening.”
For the second time today, he didn’t even ask what happened. I can only thank him enough. I nodded and opened the gate.
“By the way, is your brother there? I heard that he’ll be there at the food festival for work.” He moves his head sideways to take a peek beyond the front yard.
I looked up into the house and saw that the right window was still dark. That brief movement made me take a deep breath to push the nausea down. “He’s probably at work.” I mumbled.
“Well then, I’ll not keep you out here for longer. I’ll talk to him next time.”
We stood there for a full minute without talking. Then the silence started to feel awkward. I really want to tell him what happened but I don’t know where to start. I feel that he will try to understand everything without judging it first.
“I–”
“You know what, I’m really itching to take a photo the whole time.” He laughs. He pulled out his phone and posed like he’s about to take a photo.
“...photo?” I stood there in surprise. I’m still busy thinking of an opening on how I can confess. It took me a moment to register what he said.
“Yup. Of you.” He beamed. I can see on his face that he’s teasing.
I guess today’s really not the day.
I pouted a complaint. “Is it that bad?” He did the tiniest nod that he could muster and then his laugh got louder. His shoulder is even shaking. “The way you try not to open your mouth while we’re walking but you ate two huge bowls of porridge. Amazing…” And he roared in amusement.
He really didn’t hold back. I rolled my eyes but his laugh is very contagious. I laughed along with him, completely forgetting about anything for a moment.
It made me feel better; he really can make me laugh at random times.
“Go, laugh it all now. You just wait till I feel okay again.”
He smirked at the challenge. “I can’t wait. Go, it’s cold here.” He gently motions me to go inside.
“And I’ll text you when I get home.” He smirked playfully as he pointed at his phone.
“Whatevs.” I rolled my eyes at him, turned away, and smiled back.
—
Now that Fred’s gone, I can feel that I’m alone… vulnerable.
He might be here with me.
It’s an irrational thought, I know, but I can’t help but to do a double sweep of the whole place (even of the front yard and the gate) to know that he is not here with me. I locked the main door as I went back inside the house.
Now that I’ve checked everything, I feel my shoulders soften. The heaviness that I’ve felt earlier made me paranoid and very irrational. Why am I so afraid?
I’m not truly alone afterall.
A looming figure is looking at me along the dark hallway. His furry ears are brushing the tall ceiling; his beady black eyes shining from the reflection of the light here in the living room. He’s been watching me since I’ve got here, observing silently as I pace back and forth in paranoia.
Yes, I have one too. But he’s not dangerous in any way; his size is the exact opposite of his personality.
“Come here.” I called out to him. I placed my left hand forward. His furry paws let go of the kitchen doorway that he’s been holding on for how long since I’ve left. (only he knows)
He meekly walked towards me and nuzzled my hand. He rested both of his paws on my shoulders then gently placed his snout on top of my head.
A different kind of warmth pulsated through me. The weight of his head on top of mine feels heavy but I don’t mind; it’s his way of comforting me.
“I know…” I muttered, patting a part of his back that I can reach. The magenta fabric feels smooth to the touch. The rough fur that’s touching my face feels like an overgrown grass. I inhaled deeply. He always smells toasty; like a freshly-baked cinnamon apple pie.
With him, I don’t have to say anything; he knows and he understands.
It, or he, is A . I would never call him malignant, but rather my companion. He’s been with me for the longest time that I could remember. I named him A because he is A something. Something that I can’t fully understand but it’s still A something.
The warmth dissipated the last of the fear that I was carrying tonight.
I felt a subtle vibration on my thigh; I reached for my pocket. The phone’s screen lights up; A single line shows up in the notification:
Home :)
I hugged A tighter, smiling. “I’m home.” He purred contentedly.
—
I woke up feeling refreshed; the heaviness of yesterday’s events felt like it happened years ago. The smell of something good creeping up from the kitchen also helped. I inhaled deeply, trying to guess what’s cooking below.
Pancakes? Waffles?
That motivated me more to get out of my bed. I threw the sheet and pillows haphazardly together while trying to find my slippers. Where is it again? Knowing that this is a losing battle for my part, I just walked out of the room barefooted.
I walked down the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, is the doorway of the kitchen and dining area. I can hear the usual noise of the morning activity inside.
I took a peek. A man is busy fiddling with a pan and a spatula in front of the stove. His long, strawberry-brown hair, usually hanging around casually, is now in a loose pony tail.
My brother.
“I know that you’re there.” He announced loudly. He turned towards me; he’s wearing a bright yellow apron with a huge flower embroidered in the middle on top of his olive shirt. The bunch of different types of wildflowers that’s pooling around his feet flew in all directions.
I smiled wider and came out of my hiding place. I walked inside as he placed the pan on the counter to cool down. I looked down on it; it’s filled with bacon and omelette.
“How did you know that I was there? Is having super senses a requirement for being a police officer?” I teased him. I poked his ribs; several tiny flowers sprung out from the place, some flew around for a bit before slowly descending into the floor. Why is his something looks so delicate? It’s so like him.
It makes him look more motherly . I giggled at the thought.
I looked at the corner and saw A sniffing as he tower over the counter; his huge rounded red nose twitching at the delicious scent wafting from the pan. Well mine is a bit cute at times…
My brother took the pan, unknowingly being so close to a huge, red-nosed furry creature. Some of his flowers flew to A , which started a chain of tiny sneezes.
A adores my brother. When he’s here, A usually follows him around like a giant kid and completely ignores me. Sometimes I feel like it ’s really his companion, not mine.
I laughed.
Leon laughs at me. “Why are you being extra playful today, huh? Or maybe because you’re hungrier today?” He taps my forehead playfully. “You want to know why I know? It’s because… You. Are. NOISY.” He taps it lightly as he emphasizes each word.
I don’t know how this gentle soul became a police officer in the first place. He’s so delicate, warm, caring, and… fragile. Very unlike me. I should have been the police officer (actually, no) and he fits so well at Frederick’s.
“You are so noisy that I know you’re already awake. The floor keeps creaking like there’s a morning march up there. And for sure you didn’t find your slippers again, the way you wrecked your whole room again with all that banging going on.” He waves the pan around as he talks. The eggs and bacon are wiggling dangerously close to the edge. A is looking at them with interest.
“Then you almost tripped in the middle step of the stairs, the one with the loose floorboard. That one step sounded louder and your foot stomped harder than the rest of your march here.”
I take it back. He’s doing great as a police officer.
“It’s like I have a T-Rex as a sister. Yes, the one with the small wiggly arms. You don’t pick up on your things and I have to do it myself ALL THE TIME. I don’t know what you’re doing up the–” He still keeps on blabbering with his whining. Like a typical mom complaining about her naughty child. But if it’s him, I will never feel annoyed. His soft, fluttery tone would just be forgiven immediately.
“Okay, whatever. File all your complaints at the police station.” I rolled my eyes.
“Now, gimme the goods.” I laughed loudly as I sat down at the table. That made him laugh too. “That's a good one. Okay, here’s for the hungry, little, noisy T-Rex.” He said as he put three-fourths of the food onto my plate. He then transferred the rest into an insulated bento box that’s already prepared earlier. Some of the toasts and jam are neatly arranged on the side.
“Wait, you’re not eating here?” I pouted. I want to tease him more and to hear more of his complaints. I spread some of the jam onto the buttered toast.
He hurriedly went back and forth to pack his things. “No, sorry I can’t today. I need to head to the station early.” A trail of flowers are scattered on the wooden floor like a wiggled scribble. It feels like there’s always a wedding ceremony going on in the house.
“Why?” I asked in between bites. It’s my first time seeing him hurrying to work since I got here. It’s usually a slow day at their station since most of the time they only receive minor complaints like vandals, overdue parking tickets, street fights, over drunk working men falling asleep at random places, etc.
“Well, today’s different. I got a call from the chief about a body by the edge of the town.”
The food that I’m holding landed with a soft gloop on the table.
“And hey, don’t spread this around for the meantime. We’ll still be debriefed about the details later at the station. I believe there is a -”
I didn’t hear the next words that he said. My mind instantly focused on a single thing.
…a body is found?
—