The Mercy of Birds

CHAPTER 17: MY DECEMBER

CHAPTER 17
MY DECEMBER

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The middle-aged waitress arrived carrying a tray of the breakfast that he had ordered. She showcased a honeyed smile laden with tenderness, something that Victor couldn't ignore as she stopped next to his booth and placed his eggs and pancakes down.

"Here you go, " she said as she tucked the tray back against her side, clutching one of her hands on her hip. Her eyes were so bright of a brown, matching her dark skin tone, a beautiful contrast to the cream shade of her hijab.

"Thank you," he muttered as he showcased a small smile in her direction, setting aside the book that he had been reading and the pencil he used to annotate the pages.

"Anything else you want?" she asked him, the way her tone was conveyed with careful attention to him caused warmth to creep up upon his skin and he feared that she could easily see and laugh at his embarrassment, as it manifested with his flushed cheeks against the background of the somber day.

He shook his head. He attempted to maintain eye contact but his gaze anxiously flickered away from her. "No, that would be all."

She tilted her head slightly as if studying him, her dark eyelashes created a sense of intimidation about her gaze, a shrewdness that penetrated, but she didn't linger long enough to cause him discomfort. "Alright, just give me a call when you need anything."

"Okay," he said, watching her walk away, and when she disappeared behind the counter, only then could he inhale a deep breath to relieve himself.

He wanted to curse his pathetic existence. He hoped he didn't affront her in any way.

Why couldn't I just act like a fucking normal human being for once? Dammit!

He channeled his frustration by shoving the food down his throat, taking a break on chewing only when he was in desperate need of a drink to wash it all. He turned his head into the view outside the translucent window that enclosed the restaurant while the heat of the black coffee pervaded delectably on his tongue. The snow drafts had begun to amass again on the roads that had just been plowed a couple hours ago, where he watched the whole process being conducted in an indefatigable absorption from his motel window a couple blocks away from the restaurant.

He seemed to be so easily enraptured by such mundane activities now, but it merited him to do so as it would actually fixate him in the present moment, rather than losing his mind in the spiral of his thoughts. Dr. Mantashe said it was called being mindful of his surroundings, but not to the extremities of perilous hypervigilance that would only aggravate his anxiety.

He read the storefront signage across the road of some convenience store called Norton's and was reminded of his foreign presence in this small town in South Dakota, and that was perhaps why the waitress had seemed so intrigued by his turning up here. He was here after he had made a resolve to call Dr. Singh yesterday in order to confirm a meeting with her, in which she happily agreed. He was to see her in the state hospital tomorrow at noon and he had been vacillating between sanguine thrill and inauspicious anticipation at the prospect.

His thought drifted as he watched two women step inside the convenience store. He wouldn't have paid them no mind if there was no attendance of a man who accompanied them a little behind, whose physique and limited observation of profile so resembled that of her second oldest brother, Cameron, and it was substantiated by the fact that he was wearing the same color of jacket that he wore when he met him in Las Vegas, of some rare tangerine.

Victor held his breath and tried to peer at their entourage, but the panoply of stickers on the store window wouldn't allow him further probing. He turned away for a second to his half-eaten plate and wondered if he should call him. He yearned to see him immediately but the confusion occupied his mind first before anything. It was a strange occurrence to see Cameron in the remoteness of this area. Had it something to do with the fact that he refused to tell anyone of his whereabouts?