// SEVEN //
I keep replaying our way back home in my head.
Awkward. Awkward is the only word for it. We had a fight in front Steven's mansion and cleared it out, but there are still issues left unresolved. He told me there was still a hell of a lot I didn't know, but didn't say anything else afterwards. Nor did he speak or give me an ambiance that welcomed my questions.
Thus, we silently spent the bus ride home, side by side, without saying a word. He looked at me get off my seat, he said good-bye (he found a friend who was able to take him in, but he lives a few blocks away) and again, stared at me get off the bus.
"What are you doing staring out the window like that?" Cass walks in the room. "Listen, it's 12 AM, we are both unable of sleep and you need a drink. Let's get out of here."
Normally, I would object, because I don't like drinking at night. But accompanying Cass to a bar and watching her drink doesn't force me to.
"Fine, let me get dressed."
She squeals and jumps up and down. She runs to her bedside and grabs her bag and starts applying makeup. I can't help, but smile.
Every second I spend thinking isn't really at my advantage. I think tonight will be good for me. I grab a decent top from the wardrobe and slip it on. I put my black Vans and grab my bag, before I push Cass out the door.
We stay silent while walking through the hall. Once we make it outside though, Cass goes crazy and runs to the street where she hails a cab with impressive ease.
It's my turn to run because I don't want to keep the driver waiting. Cass gives him the address of a pub once I slide in.
I stare at the street lights during the drive. I focus and unfocus so I can sometimes pay attention to their backgrounds.
It doesn't take more than 10 minutes to get there and Cass takes care of the money. She starts pushing me out. I stop and turn, to try and convince her to split it, but she practically throws me on the pavement. She has no tolerance, man. None at all.
"Okay, okay," I say raising my hands in submission to Lord Cassalot. "Let's just get in."
We up the stairs and I unconsciously stop at the door, staring inside. The place is small and cozy. It has a little patio area, on my right, with a gazebo covering it with christmas type lights going around it. There's some hispanic music playing and I start swaying to the beat. I think it's a restaurant and bar though, because the plates I see being served are very big. I'm surprised by the amount of food people eat at this hour. And by the amount of people, families too, being here at this hour.
Cass grabs my hand and we walk inside. We take a seat at a table on the patio. I try to convince Cass that I don't want to drink, but she keeps babbling about how it'll be okay and that it won't do any harm. We finally decide on maximum of one beer that I can drink anytime I want before I leave.
We wait for a waiter. Once he comes, Cass orders a cocktail for herself and a beer for me. So much for ordering whenever I want.
I look around. There are younger people seated at the bar. I'm still not used to the fact that the legal drinking age in Switzerland is 16. What's cool though is that to encourage the teen nighttime drinking ban, every bar and restaurant has to have the option of having to offer three soft drinks at the price of their least expensive alcoholic drink. At that age, money is not something you necessarily get by easily so usually they go for the 3 nonalcoholic drinks. And voilà, they don't drink alcohol!
"Tell me," Cass starts, already getting a bit tipsy on her second drink. "What the hell happened with Darius today?"
I contemplate telling her, but she does need to know what happened.
"His boss is his father and he was abused as a kid, that's why he didn't want to tell me, because he's ashamed of his fear of him."
I really didn't mean to reveal the fact that he was abused. I don't know how Darius will react when he finds out that Cass knows.
Her eyes widen in an exaggerated manner. Is she really drunk on her second drink? On her second soft little woman cocktail?
"He told me there is a lot I don't know, but didn't tell me anything on the whole way home. He doesn't want to tell me yet and I don't know why anymore."
"Amything else?" She stares at her glass as she sips on the straw casually waiting for me to continue.
"Oh yeah, his dad wants Darius to kill me."
She coughs on her drink. She puts it down before she spills it. She takes my beer to wash it down which I find really funny.
"Wait, so in two weeks, by the time we'll leave, he's going to have to kill you?"
Wow, I didn't realize that I don't have time.
"Yep, I guess so."
"Ugh God, May, drink. Please, drink your freaking bear. How are you not tempted to drink your thoughts away now?"
I take a sip of the beer, "I have control. I worked on it though. It wasn't always this easy."
***
He leans on the podium in the empty amphitheatre and stares at Cass talk. She has an unbelievable amount of questions to ask Mr. Keller and he offered to see us this morning. Well, morning as in 1 PM. I, the early rise always freshened up by 8 AM, woke up at 10h30. Let alone Cass who barely rolled out of bed at noon.
"You know where I studied liberal arts?" He looks at us waiting for an answer.
We shake our heads.
"Franklin University, 5 years ago."
"And do you know what I majored in?" He continues, fixing his posture, but still with an arm rested on the podium.
Again, a shake of the head.
"History. And what am I teaching now?"
"Psychology," we both say in choir.
"Isn't that unsual? I studied documents of the past, but teach the undocumentable. I teach about the brain. How did I get here you might ask?"
"You really like answering your own questions?" Cass has her arms rested on her chest, looking at him with a grin.
He laughs. "Like you, Cass, I didn't know where to go. I had to chose between economics, visual art, history and psychology. Very different yet they seemed all the same to me. I liked the content of each as much and I told myself that if a major didn't give me a steady career path in, I'd teach it."
I kind of cringe at the idea of him teaching psychology, because I fear that his major didn't have a career path, that's why he ended up teaching, but I quickly remind myself that he majored in history.
"I chose history and I started in it, but I asked the school if I could be in another major's basic class and they accepted. So, I was Mike Keller, major in history with a class of Basic Psychology I.
"My friends would think it was super weird. Let alone the sole fact that I was asking for more classes than given, but the mix of them both. Later on, I learned to adore psychology, but I was kind of happy I didn't major in it. Majoring in it would have made me learn a lot about the science of it and not the inexplicable. My background in history really made me a better teacher and a better representation of liberal arts psychology."
He ends the story with a smile and I can't help, but crack one too, but Cass is not showing teeth at all.
She starts with her questions.
"What if they don't give me an extra class and I know this worked out for you, but who says the only choice I don't touch is the one that I should have chosen?"
She goes on and on about constant "what ifs" and how she has no idea what to do, because no one, ever, has had to chose between these same three majors and that she doesn't have a proper role model in her life when it comes to school.
"And I mean, sir, honestly is there any way for me to really figure out what my actual interest are? How can I be constantly going back and forth between these three options without having a clue, no matter how many counsellors I see or meetings I attend, as to which one is the best pick?"
He puffs out a load of air and I just stare at Cass. I thought her hour long lectures were just for me, but damn this girl has verbal diarrhea. It is unbelievable.
"Wow, that's a shit load of questions."
I always loved it when teachers didn't see the big deal in swearing. An eloquent vocabulary is always classy, but you should know when to tone it down and really connect to the person, whatever the words you use are. A teacher should be able to strip down his education from his wisdom and pass on advice and messages to his students without fearing to curse.
"Well, first off Cass, you need to make sure that you know everything there is to know about these three programs. You're torn between history, international relations and inter-economics, correct?"
She nods looking a little bit sad, holding on to her right arm with her left. This school thing is really stressing her out. She has a week to apply and last night, after we came back, she remembered that after applying you have to wait to find out if you're accepted or not. She started freaking out again over that. Add that to her already unable state.
She kept jumping on the bed and when she'd fall, she'd start turning over and throwing pillows. Then, after a few minutes, she would get up and roam the room. She would circle my bed, walk to the bathroom. She also sat in the wardrobe and dragged her face along the bottom of the things we hanged. Oh, and she occasionally opened the main door and after realizing she was no longer in our room and that it was not a closet she had entered, she would come back in like nothing happened.
"Those are pretty serious majors, Cass. Serious as in the content is up to its maximum. You will be learning something new in every class, everyday. You need to know that you will be fully motivated by every single thing that is taught in every class of each major."
"But I did that," she starts pleading. "I did that to know which major I wanted when I first wanted to apply. That's when I realized I have no problem with either of them and ever since, I've been stuck trying to figure out the path I want to take my life on."
"But have you checked the career paths each of them offer?"
She tilts her head a bit, her mouth forming an 'oh'.
"You must have, even if it was a little bit."
A that she nods, violently, because that is true.
"Take it from me Cass. Spend more time on the career paths of each and what you can do with each major. I think you've spent more time figuring out what you'll be learning rather than what you can do with that education."
He continues speaking even when he sees her shake her head. I actually think that's what pushed him to continue along to his point.
"I know you must have talked about career options with orientation counsellors, but really look into it. Sit down, find your information. Find every job option for every major and do your research on the jobs that interest you and soon you'll have professions narrowed down and then you'll know which major is best suited considering which jobs interest you the most."
She cracks a smile. She starts shaking her index at him.
"You're good. And I like you, Mr. Keller. Hopefully, you don't only teach psychology, because I know some of you professors teach double courses."
"I wish I could say yes, because I was looking forward to having you as a student, but no, psychology is all I teach. But maybe, this is better."
Cass starts to blush and soon does Mr. Keller.
"I mean, it's better to see you and talk to you in the halls without the frenzy of homework and exams." He starts to nervously laugh. "I mean, wouldn't it be horrible if you had to leave mid-conversation to do homework I gave you, come on."
I can't help, but let a smirk take place. They're so funny and awkward and I'm honestly happy that she won't have him as a teacher, because they really clicked and him as her professor would be bad news.
"Yeah, I guess so. Thanks, Mr. Keller."
"My pleasure, Cass," he says calming himself down . "See you girls around."
We bid our goodbyes and Cass, almost seaming upset, walks straight to our dorm.
"Close the door, May," she says not a second after I enter the room.
"What's wrong?"
"Everything. I'm catching feelings for a professor whom I figured out is only five years older than me, but he doesn't want to be my teacher either and not knowing if he feels platonic about me or not is what's killing me."
I close the door, open by only an inch.
"If it makes you feel better, I think you two would be great together. Plus, he isn't your teacher. And, this school is so big, some people would believe that you've never run into each other. But for one, forget about him. Focus on what you're supposed to do."
"What he told me to do?"
"What he advised you to do as someone of superior knowledge, Cass. You're doing this to yourself."
"Here," I continue handing her her laptop. "Start your research. I'm going to go for a walk," I say grabbing my bag.
She nods, biting on her lower lip. I give her one more glance, as she stares at her screen, before leaving the dorm room.
Everytime I leave the room, people always look at me weirdly. It's summer break for God's sake and the dorm rooms are filled with students. Don't they have someone to visit? And every time I pass by, they stare as if I'm an outsider and that I'm not supposed to be here. For their information, they're technically not supposed to be here either.
I walk along the hall, ignoring the looks, and finally make it outside. I decide that a walk in the park behind the school would be appropriate. Not too far so I could get back quickly, but far enough for me to clear my thoughts.
I glide by foot forward as I walk so my toes could brush against the grass with every step. Perks of changing into sandals.
I stare at the stream, my destination, as I walk past trees and bushes and that's when I realize that I have done this my whole life. I always stare and thrive for the destination and never have I given any value to the journey. I ignore the walk so when I'm by the stream I can lay back and stare at the trees and bushes as a whole, from afar.
Is that the better choice? Am I living my life the right way? Should I decide to keep my past in a package and look over it when I'm in the certainty of the destination? Or should I know, touch and feel everything on the journey and enjoy things and be disappointed regardless of the outcome? Should I allow myself to feel things that might be different from what really matters, the result?
I take my little white book out of my bag and start scribbling down whatever nonsense I'm thinking to myself.
But does the result really matter? I write down.
I feel someone standing behind me, but I think it's Cass so I let her tell me when she wants me to know she's there.
"I think the result does matter," a rough voice whispers, ironically.
I look up, startled, to see Darius standing there. He wears a sincere half-smile, a black dry-fit t-shirt and messy hair. He sits beside me and takes off his shoes and socks. He then dips his toes in the water, like I did.
"What you up to?" He shows a smirk once I slam my book cover close.
"Thinking." I start rubbing my palm on my thigh. "I guess." I keep my eyes on the water flowing.
"About whay I'm putting you through?"
"Ego much?" I stare at him with a grin, but slightly serious.
"Haha, but no seriously. What are you thinking about?"
"If we're going to survive the next two weeks? If I'll figure out the truth and if you will be disobey your father? Thus, will I be alive by the end of next week?"
"Wow, then I really am the reason you're going through all of this."
"Well, yeah, I..."
"Hey, no need to explain. Everything you're going through is inexcusable. That's why I'm here."
I look at him, silently. I try to understand how humble he is and if there's a reason behind it. I try to understand what goes on in his head and why he's here for me now and not earlier or not later.
"I think that every person that came out to you said that I was a black ops agent working for a man that works for the government."
I nod.
"I am an agent working for my father and he does work for the government, but as he tells me, they have no idea of his projects. It's funny how he thinks it's more important to reassure me that he's the only evil and that the government isn't supportive of the project. As if I need an honest head of country more than a father."
I almost feel sorry, but I remember how much my father hates pity so I decided long ago never to feel sorry for any man. When I considered him a man, of course. And Darius is no less.
"I can give you short and sweet facts only today, because a lot of them regard bigger things, but I promise that you will know everything. I want you to know."
A breeze takes over and I've never felt more vulnerable than when the air fights against me.
"What I can reveal today is the explanations behind the 'proof' that Allen guy showed you in the old restaurant?"
I look at him attentively. He has my attention, but there's nothing to say.
"That recorder really did record my voice and my father's. It was regarding what your assasination, the one on the train I was suposed to complete. My dad always changes. the person's identity while he talks about them in case this kind of thing happens. The school meant thw train and lab rat meant you. Just that this time the lrecaution came to bite us in the ass, because an actual lab accident is being. pinned on us.
"For every one of his plans, I have to act like I'm on board, even if I'm not. I wasn't, I really wasn't, but God, I was more terrified of him then than I am now. You wouldn't believe how much I've changed this past week with you, May. You have to believe me when I say that I will not go through with what he's asking of me."
I nod, staring at the water, trying to hide the water coming out of my own eyes.
"The recorder was planted in his house for sure, by whom I suppose is Allen and whoever he works with. And that picture, taken by himself of course, you realized that one better. My father has been in war with another federal group and he won't let me in on it. Only Robert knows his every move and that's only because he's a pawn. I bet that the group is the one Allen and those two other guys work in."
"But do you have any idea why your father would have problems with anyone? Does his project only have to do with my family and I or is there something bigger?"
"I'm almost certain there is something bigger in store. I gave this a lot of thought. And I think that your family is only a distraction, created for me. There's no way that anything is true, yeah?"
"He said so himself. When he was talking with Robert. He said he had enough evidence and fake proof to convince anyone of anything he says about us."
"Right, I forgot you stayed in there before and after the meeting. What else did he say?"
I tell him everything I remember. How he confirmed his mother's death, how he insulted her, how the dreams are a part of his plan and that as long as we concentrate on that we'll miss the big picture.
"Shit. I knew it. He wanted me to fail the mission that first day." He slaps his thigh, hard, but subtly, probably hatred from his comments on Darius' mother still lingering in his action. "I'm supposed to be here figuring this all out with you."
"We thought they wanted to separate us, but what if they're pushing me to leave you, because they know I'll be curious to know about you. They probably want us together."
"So, this almost makes us sure that these two groups are actually working together?"
"I think it's the best lead we have."
"Right, but how can dreams be a part of a plan?"
He starts mumbling to himself.
"Darius," I exclaim, a hand on his shoulder. "Go get some rest. You need it."
"But, we..."
"Yes, I know," I interrupt. "But we can talk about this later. Go at your friend's house and sleep till morn'. We'll talk then, yeah?"
He nods. I give him a hug. He thightens and I wonder what changed today.
"I'm sorry," he says after he pulled away, rubbing his eyes. "About how I acted yesterday. I shouldn't have been so cold and should have been understanding of your doubts like you had been with mine."
"Nothing to worry about, okay?" I get up and pull him up with me. He puts his socks ans shoes on.
He runs off and I mean litteraly, he left running. I notice his sweatpants so I deduct he must have seen me sitting here during his run and took the oppurtunity to come and talk to me.
I walk over to the entrance and hastily walk to our dorm. I open the door quietly in case Cass is asleep and I am right. She is spread out on the bed, star position, with her laptop still open and papers strewn about. She may get her sleep, but the stress won't let her rest.
I clean up her stuff and put it in a pile. I put her laptop on the desk and the pile on top.
I read until it's dark and then I excitedly (because I desperately need it) get to sleep.
***
I wake up in the middle of the night feeling like I need to do something. I look over to my right and see that Cass is still sleeping and the door is locked. Everything is in its place. I then check my phone.
I have one voicemail from Darius. His voice is shaky and he seems out of breath.
"May, I don't know how to explain this. I saw you again tonight. It was the first dream since we've met. But it was different this time. Something's wrong, May. Please, call me when you get this."
I fumble with the buttons and drop my phone on the floor. The fear and fatigue take over and I can't seem to take the phone back and call him.
Even with the fear of another dream, my eyes come to a close.