All I'm Asking

Grave

My head felt groggy from a lack of sleep. The boys and I were out until ten 'o clock SGT. That's nine 'o clock in the morning back home. I tossed and turned attempting to escape their words until about one 'o clock. But they'd made my mind restless with guilt and the desire to tip toe ever so carefully towards them. You can't.
My room was still wearing its silver evening gown. I rolled over and grabbed my phone off the night stand. Four-fifteen. That'd be three-fifteen in the afternoon back home. Urrgghh. A small groan escaped my lips as I rolled onto my back. Looks like I'm going to have a harder time adjusting to the time difference than I thought.
   I checked all my social media, replied to the few friends I kept in touch with, and assured my mom that everything was going smoothly. Only having passed a half an hour, I begrudgingly tossed the covers off and mustered the motivation to remove myself from my bed. I'm not going to be able to get back to sleep. So I might as well find something productive to do.
My feet landed softly on my cream carpet and made their way into my little kitchen. I didn't think that the rest of the building would appreciate the sound of my tea kettle at four in the morning so I settled for boiling some water in a pot. I had a book that was begging to be finished so I settled back into bed to read while I waited on the water. The only furniture I owned was a twin sized bed so reading locations were pretty limited but I didn't mind.
I paid no mind to how much time was passing until I heard a knock on the door. My stomach twisted at the thought of a stranger existing on the other side. But I set my book on the bed and decided to take a peek. Without opening the chain on my door, I made an attempt to peek into the hallway. But all I was was a nine by thirteen baking dish sitting on my doormat with a sticky note on the lid. Cautiously, I slid the chain off and opened the door just enough to peek into the hallway. I don't see anyone. I carefully bent down and brought the baking dish inside. Setting the baking dish carefully on the counter, I removed the note taped to the lid.
I read that when you move to a new place in America everyone in the neighborhood brings you a casserole. So Brett and I made you this! This would normally be when you eat dinner back home, right? Welcome to the neighborhood!
                             Hope you like it,
                                                              Brett and Eddy
  
   I opened the lid to find a darker than usual green bean casserole. Did the boys stay up all night making this? Green bean casserole doesn't usually take more than an hour to make. But I'd seen the boys' video of them trying to make cupcakes. I know that I can't let them get too close to me. But I should at least thank them for the casserole:

      Welcome to Singapore

Y/N: Did you guys leave a casserole outside my apartment?

E_Chen: That depends... do you feel welcomed?

Y/N: Actually... I do

E_Chen: Then yes, we left the casserole

Y/N: Thanks, I really appreciated it.

E_Chen: It was no problem!

   I liked Eddy's message and grabbed a plate. My stomach had been very angry with me for my neglect. However, much to its dismay, the grocery store isn't open at four in the morning. At least not that I'm aware of. After heating up the thoughtful meal, I took a bite of Brett and Eddy's hard work. I paused as the taste hit me. The casserole was definitely overdone. But for me, it's the thought that counted.

   Brett and Eddy's casserole last me almost a week. Their gift also provided me with an excuse to procrastinate going to the grocery. But alas, all safe good things must come to an end. I'd just finished my morning practice session when Instagram sent me a very unexpected notification.

BrettyBang_50N0 would like to send you a message.

   Unable to win against my own curiosity, I opened the message: "Hey, I have to make a trip to the grocery today. Wanna tag along?
   Wow. He seems SO excited. I felt an earthquake inside my stomach. As much as I need to keep the boys at arms length... I need DO need to go to the store. Hesitantly, I replied to Brett's message: "Well, since you seem so excited about it."
   "Cool. I'm outside your apartment."
   "What?!" My heart attacked me with a vengeance I'd never experienced before. I scrambled to throw on the first appropriate clothing items within my reach. A dark grey and white tank top, black shorts, and my grey vans. Normally, I don't like to wear tank tops in public. However, the straps are thicker and it flowed. So you felt this one was appropriate. At least while you were adjusting to the humidity. I gathered half my hear in a black little butterfly claw at the back of my head. Feeling presentable enough, I paused in front of the door ready to pretend I didn't just come down from Frantic Tornado Mode. I let out a breath, opened the door, and opened the door bracing myself to face Brett Yang. But my resolve was instead wasted on the top of Brett's head as he scrolled on this phone.
   Brett looked up with a deadpan expression. "You ready?"
   "Uh... yeah." You tried to pretend you heart didn't just flutter a little when his eyes met yours.
   "Cool." He turned and you followed his to the elevator.
   "Was that you practicing?"
   "Yeah, it's not ready to perform though."
   "I don't think any musician truly believes that their piece is ready to be performed. Except maybe Hilary Hahn."
   "That probably has some truth to it."
   "Well, you sounded pretty good."
   "Really? Thanks."
   "There were a few places where your rhythm seemed a bit off though."
   "Oh... yeah..." I tried to breath and throw the comment out of my mind. But I felt a panicky feeling creeping in, threatening to wrap its talons around me.
   "Your tone, phrasing, dynamics, everything else sounded amazing. I'd just go back and looks at those rhythms again."
   "Thanks." Stop talking about my rhythm.
   "How long have you been playing?"
   "Umm... maybe four years? It's complicated."
   "I understand how the rest of your life could be 'complicated' but what could possibly be so complicated about how long you've been playing?"
   "It just is."
   Brett sighed as we continued on our little excursion. I could tell that my answer had frustrated him. I wish I could tell you. But I can't. You won't understand. No one does. You'll just give me The Look. No more looks, no mores stares, no more whispers. I'm here for a life of solitude, peace, and achievement. I came here with one goal. Accomplishing that task is the only thing that I can focus on. I'm sorry.
   "I'm sorry." I looked down at my feet.
   "For what? Brett also looked down at his feet."
   "For the frustration my answer is causing you."
   "But not for your answer."
   "No, not for my answer."

   Brett and I walked the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. Even though he seemed a little frustrated, he also seemed to have a sense of understanding? But I knew his understanding wouldn't last if I told him. So I didn't. We made light hearted conversation about what we were going to make for dinner and how I was feeling about school starting tomorrow.
   "I'm a little nervous going to school in a new country. But I'm sure I'll be fine. After all, I'm here to study. I'm not here to make friends."
   Brett stared at me with an odd expression. What is that emotion? Hurt? Concern? Disappointment? Anger? I can't quite read him. "So you have no interest in making friends?"
   I felt bad. But this was going to happen sooner or later. "Honestly, no."
   "I want to ask you why. But I know you're just going to tell me it's complicated."
   "Am I that predictable?" I tried to make light of the conversation gluing my eyes to the sidewalk on the way home.
   "You know. Some people don't mind complicated."
   There was nothing that I could say that wouldn't be too much. So I remained silent as Brett's voice grew more passionate. "I'm not going to force you to talk to me. If you're not ready to talk about whatever it is that happened to you, I understand. We don't have to talk. I'll just walk next to you."
   "What gives you the impression that I'm the victim of some great tragedy?" I stared at Brett in disbelief. My soul suddenly ached at his words. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. Everyone always demanded that I justify myself. No one ever gave me the choice. No one ever let me just... be.
   "You left all your friends and family behind and your isolating yourself in a country that's completely foreign to you." Brett looked me dead in the eye. "It's pretty obvious that something happened."
   I stopped dead in my tracks unable to believe what was happening.
   "But like I said. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. You can just keep walking and I'll just keep walking next to you. Even if never tell me."