It’s the evening; another closing time again. In between the gossip about the murder, Yvonne’s entertaining attempt to flirt with our customer, and looking out for him , the day passed by in an instant.
I’ve been doing the cleaning up alone tonight; Yvonne has to step out before closing time, remembering that she needs to submit a paper for tomorrow. I think that she is just afraid of going home late after talking and making up different assumptions about the murder the whole day. I don’t blame her for it; her house is the farthest from Frederick’s.
It’s also the nearest to the location where the body was found. She will definitely bring in fresh gossip tomorrow, I am sure of it. A small smile formed on my face, reflecting how I’m excited for it. Yvonne, with her big ball of energy, just makes everything better. I’m glad that she’s the one with us here at Frederick’s.
Meanwhile, Fred is in the staff room, busy with answering emails from suppliers and organizers. I could hear the rhythmic tack tack tack of the mechanical keyboard from the hallway. He even left the door wide-open, giving a not-so-silent reassurance that he’ll be there whenever I need him.
He doesn't have to, but I’m honestly happy that he did. My over-the-top reaction and suspicion towards him earlier felt more embarrassing now that I think of it.
He’s trying to help but I was so paranoid that I openly, and almost, confronted him. Maybe that’s why he left the door wide-open now; to show to the people going in the staff room what he’s doing with his computer.
Now, I really want to avoid the staff room out of shame. I’m sorry, Fred.
I walked in the dining area. It looks larger than it should, now that there are no people in it.
Aside from me.
The cleaning up was a breeze; this time, I am not allowing myself to space out at all. My attention was fully focused on everything; I was sensitive to every noise, every movement, and every shadow moving in the walls and floors.
I have to make sure that I will not be caught by surprise this time.
I could hear a movement in the hallway, and a few seconds later, a blond head peaked into the doorway. He almost got frightened when he saw that I was already looking at him.
“Lira, are you okay? Doing good?” He asked. I smiled at him, proudly showing that I’m doing well on my own. I even raised the glass water bottle that I’m holding like lifting a heavy weight. He beamed, seemingly proud of me.
“Let me know when you’re done. You still have to treat me back.” He jokingly said. I immediately know what he’s up to. He doesn’t have to accompany me back home for another night but there’s no point in declining; saying “no” is not an option.
“Where do you want to eat?” I asked, the only thing that I can do to repay him is to enjoy it and make it fun for both of us.
“Somewhere expensive. And I’m very hungry right now.” I rolled my eyes at him, laughing while shooing him away. He walked back into the staff room, laughing.
That made the rest of the clean up lighter. Fred is here with me, I am safe. And we’ll get to eat later. I mused, finally letting go of being so uptight and so guarded. I was thinking of places where we can eat near my place while fixing the tables and the chairs in place, my worries completely forgotten.
After I put the cleaning materials back into its storage nook, I looked around the place one more time.
I let out a long sigh of relief; I survived a night alone in the dining area.
Now, just one more thing left.
—
I took out the day’s left-overs for the compost behind the restaurant. They made a small garden here and a space to compost. Several huge, covered, blue plastic drums on the far end were fitted with a sturdy, metal base and a handle so it’s easier to rotate. We took shifts on which one should rotate them each night, and whose turn it is to have their daily workout. Yvonne hates it the most, she said that the smell and the way it looks isn’t pleasant at all.
“It isn’t aesthetic at all.” She always complains, while pouting. The small red bird that’s usually on top of her head is even trying its best to hide its head between her hair, also not looking forward to going near it. I chuckled at that memory, seeing how it took a lot of personality from its human.
It isn’t, but the peace it brings right after a bustling day feels calming; it’s like a decompressing ritual for me. Just me, the vegetation, and the silent small backyard without anybody on the way. So I sometimes offer to bring and process the left-overs in the composting bin during Yvonne’s turn on top of my actual schedule to do it. She always gladly accepts it.
I looked at the empty backyard in front of me, surveying the small space with affection. The faint light from the lampost at the end, near the alleyway going into the back of the next commercial space, is like a solitary guard from this view. I turned back to start preparing the compost bin to be refilled tonight. It’s halfway full.
We can deliver this to the farm in the next two weeks.
One thing that I like about Frederick’s is that they make sure to be as community-driven participants as possible. Like prioritizing local products, composting for farm-steads…
“ You. ”
That single word made me shiver. My instincts knew immediately before it even dawned on me who it was. Could it be…?
I slowly turned around and there he was. It feels like all the mental preparations that I did are all for nothing; the feeling of dread flooded my veins the moment I saw him.
He is just right there in front of me, a few feet away, like a ghost who suddenly appeared out of nowhere. His black hair sticking out in all directions in the dry, stale surroundings. A faint, red glow is coming out of his eyes.
The trash bag that I was holding fell into the soft soil as my hands turned into jelly.
He sneered, his pointed teeth barely visible on this angle, while looking at the mess that I’ve made. He bent to pick one piece that’s closest to him and slowly walked towards me, as if there’s nothing to rush and worry about.
He is certain that I’m not going anywhere.
This time, I exerted all my will power to not step back and run away from him back into the restaurant. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t, and he knows.
“Did you miss me?” His voice is deep, raspy, and weirdly hypnotic; he speaks like a brooding writer reciting a heartfelt poem… or someone just recovering from a really bad case of flu. It’s not important at the moment, though it could be the former.
For the second time since meeting him, he stretched out his hand, this time directly towards me. His pointed, dark nails look menacingly sharp and his thin, bony fingers look deceptively fragile. It’s holding on into an object.
He is just one step away from me, and now I can see that he is wearing a dark, fitted shirt and rugged jeans. His other hand is lightly resting on his hips.
He looks… ordinary. An ordinary supermodel who got lost in someone’s backyard.
He raised a brow while looking deeply at me; waiting for me. His pointed nose is sniffing in discomfort by the smell while his darkened lips are slightly pouting. He shook his pale hand impatiently.
Without any choice, I lifted my left hand and opened my palms. His cold fingers brushed against my hand as he placed something small in my hand. My eyes widened.
He is definitely real.
The part of my hand that he touched is so cold; it feels like I was exposed in a harsh blizzard in the middle of a summer night. That feeling froze me completely in place despite the heat coming out from the compost.
And he walked away, laughing and casually waving his arm at me. Just like that.
He walked, like what a normal person does when leaving and not disappearing into the air like a ghost. I watched him go in confusion until he was swallowed by the darkness. For a while, I was staring at the dark alleyway completely forgetting about everything else.
The coldness started disappearing, as a wave of relief and newfound confidence came back into me.
He is real. I am sure of it this time.
Then what about the footage earlier? Why wasn’t he caught by the CCTV camera? A tiny whisper of doubt arrived. I shook it away, still trying to enjoy the feeling of certainty while I could.
I was reaching for the black bag, worrying about the mess that I made, when I finally noticed the piece of trash that he handed me. My hand wraps comfortably around it. I went closer into the light from the lamppost to take a good look. It’s a small, hard white thing of about a couple of inches.
The scream that could have woken up the surrounding premises came out of my mouth seconds later.
It’s a piece of bone.
—