☆☆☆ Chapter 51 ☆☆☆
Thoughts at Opera's
I hate reading.
The hate stems from many things. As a kid I couldn't sit still for longer than a minute, much less sit and read. Even in the rare moments that I did end up doing both of those things── for the single sake of tryin' to copy my big nerd of a sister── I never found it interesting. I never understood the long chats Dad and Teresa had with each other 'bout some random character and their so-called adventures in Crapnia or Cringeland. I never understood friends and classmates whose eyes glowed at the mention of some book title, nor when someone turned me down from playing tag to finish the last chapters of one. I found everyone's interest in reading annoying.
And then came the notes by my window that tried to bribe me into their world with itchy wristbands, candy, and all sorts of other junk. Obviously it didn't work, nothing was enough to get me to read. All it did was piss me off even more. It felt as if reading forced its way into my life more than before 'cuz of those notes, and the fact that they were written in teensy cursive made it worse. Those trashy pieces of paper barely made any sense to me. Whether they were poems, plain letters, or stories didn't matter── they were all too hard to follow, too complicated, and I was never curious enough to ask anyone for help on them. I threw them all away, as I did with any book I had on me. You see, to me, reading involves nothing but the practice of staring at empty words printed on dead trees, simple as that.
And yet, here I am, wrapping my head 'round thirty-nine pages' worth of handwritten feelings that I happened to have found in a bright hardcover notebook. Yup, not even a real book. Just a journal. Just a diary. Just plain thoughts, plain secrets. Just a quick three-hour long mindfuck of me sitting still, taking in as much as I could of every single word that I came across, right beside their sleeping author, and barely coming out sane. Dozens of entries, love poems, altered song lyrics... complicated and raw, in teensy cursive.
I hate reading, I really do. But it didn't bore me for once.
Who knew that words on paper held so much power, enough for me to get lost in them, to confuse me, far more than I had ever thought was possible, but leave me wanting more, with the desire to understand it all?
Daniel's something else. Not just an angel.
"Ane," he began. From the corner of my eye, I noticed him reach out for my hand across the table. A soft squeeze followed after. "Are you okay?"
As if.
"Yes," I replied, keeping my eyes out the window, on the building across the street. From the outside, it looked like any other building 'round it; dull, gray, made of brick. But on the inside, gentle colors relaxed within the patterned wallpapers, wooden floors, and comfy furniture. Free hot chocolate, tea, and coffee helped set up the warm mood it had going for itself in the waiting room, one that has managed to rub off on me lately.
I hope it can do its job from a distance.
"Are you sure?" he asked, squeezing my hand again. "Heavy talk with Dr. Connor today?"
I turned away from my therapist's office, and gave Daniel a look. His cheeks were rosy and he was in the middle of holding his breath, waiting for the worst to come out of me. His whole world, in the moment I turned, was me. Nothing else seemed to matter to him, but his notebook told me otherwise. It told me about many things that left me wondering, some that even helped explain the other stuff I found in his safe...
"Yes. Heavy talk. Don't wanna talk 'bout it."
At that, Daniel brought my hand to his face, for a light greeting with those tender pink lips of his that never failed to make my heart flutter.
"Okay," he mumbled after, slumping his shoulders and dropping his attention to the milkshake before him. It made me think of a sad little puppy, but I refused to show any weakness for it. "But... but know that you can always talk to me. I'm here for you, no matter what. Anything for you, Ane."
"I know," I sighed, looking out the window again. "Thanks."
Today was actually alright with Dr. Connor. We talked about my early high school years. A whole hour-long trip to the merry past, to the time when I was a major gossip queen who spent her days tasting every flavor in the local ice cream parlor or hanging out at the mall with friends, when Teresa was a med student deep in some nerdy research Dad never failed to brag about. We were building our futures, in our own ways. Mine, social-wise. Hers, career-wise. Back then, Teresa and I would come home and talk for hours, from my growing curiosity with boys' bodies to how she got herself out of a love triangle, usually over ourselves 'cuz Dad would play the piano for Mom during that time and it would get really damn loud. And oh man, when Uncle Jesse and Molly visited, it would get even louder 'cuz they would play and sing beside him. Fun times.
"Ane, it's here."
"What?" I snapped my head to him again. "What is?"
"The food, my love."
By the time my mind was in the same place as my surroundings, the burger I had ordered a while back was on my side of the table, and the waiter was placing an omelette on Daniel's. His honeyed voice went from one of my ears to the other as his hold on my boyfriend's plate lasted a second longer than necessary, along with a smile that seemed way too genuine for customer service during their brief chat. It made the air feel odd── no, I came to realize that it made me feel odd── when Daniel mentioned the waiter's name as he left our table.
An odd knot was forming in my stomach before I knew it, far too fast for me to try and understand or control it. "How d'you know him?"
"The server?" Daniel lifted an eyebrow. "I don't," he said, after swallowing a forkful of his lunch.
"Then why do you know his name?"
He pointed at his chest. "Name tag."
A breath I didn't know I was holding back rushed out of me the moment he responded. "Good." Why?
"Good?"
"Yes. Good." An awkward silence threatened to swallow us whole as we ate our food, but a question I had in the back of my mind gave me hope. Whether it sparked small-talk or not didn't matter. It was the one thing I could think of to stop my face from burning for any longer. "So how do you know Dr. Connor?"
Daniel pressed his lips together before answering. "Through Roger."
"Roger." Oh, that's why. Of course it is. "Huh."
"Yes, um, Roger... he has... he has been through a lot, and the influence Dr. Connor has had on him is, quite frankly, phenomenal. But, but honestly, though he is definitely doing better, a whole lot better, I... haha, I can't help but worry for him. He still has a lot to work on. With time, I hope that changes, in the same way I hope for you... " Daniel cleared his throat. "Anyways, I, um, I'm so glad Dr. Connor is helping you now."
What was I expecting? I shouldn't be surprised. I've read enough. Can't deny it now.
"Yea, same. He's been good to me so far. Who would've thought that an hour alone with a bald, greasy old man who offers people candy every five seconds could help so much."
"Don't tease him, he knows what he's doing!" Daniel fussed, waving a hand at me. "He's saving lives, one butterscotch at a time. If... if it were not for him, Roger... "
God, god do I hate reading.
I cleared my own throat, more than ready to change his focus on the human shadow. "Hey, when I'm with him, what d'you do?"
Daniel blinked real slow before answering. "Oh, nothing much. I stay in the car, listen to songs on the radio. Sing to myself. Tons of fun. Or I come here for a milkshake to save a table for when you're out... Oh, oh, and sometimes, I go over to Roger's to work on small projects, um, pieces I can finish quickly. He's not there around this time, so I have the place all to myself, and it's not far── " Ugh, him again, when all I wanted was to not have him in our conversation. " ──you can come visit── "
I motioned at his omelette. "Hey, let me have a taste of that."
"Oh, okay, not sure you'll like it though. It has no meat."
Daniel took his time to cut a piece of his lunch, and with as much care as humanly possible, he fed it to me. He fed me some more afterwards too and it was the most adorable thing of the day, but it was a short-lived moment of bliss; at the sight of the waiter approaching, the knot in my stomach tightened and everything in me burst into flames.
And there was nothing in the waiter's hands. No food, no check, no nothing.
Why the heck's he coming over? Is he interested in Daniel? Is there something I don't know? Is there such a thing as a radar for that type of thing? Is that why he's interested? I gulped, put down my half-eaten burger, and took a good swig of my soda. I let myself take a deep breath once I'm done, to drag my mind back into reality.
"Hello again," the waiter chirped once he reached us. His honeyed voice seriously made me want to throw up, but another swig of my soda kept me from doing so. Will every single guy that he knows or is around make me feel weird from now on? Should I talk to Dr. Connor about this? "How is everything? Miss, is your Opera's Grand Hamburger tender? How about you, sir? Is the omelette to your liking── "
Okay, just a check-up. Good. "We're alright. Thanks. We'll call for you if we need you, Javier."
How fast I drove him away was praise-worthy, but Daniel was too kindhearted for that. Instead of showing any form of approval, he rested a hand on his rosy cheek and sighed. "Ane, the way you spoke to him, it was... and his name, it's── "
I pinched my thigh to hold back the rolling of my eyes. "Me, rude? Yea, yea. I know. Didn't mean it. Came out for no reason. Sorry."
"His name is Juan, Ane." Great. Now I have to apologize when he comes back. And for god's sake, was it too much to ask of my thigh to keep me from a damn eye roll? "My love... I don't mean to press, but I meant what I said. I'm here for you. If there is any part of you that wants to talk about── "
I took his hands in mine and kissed them, just as he had done to me earlier. Or at least I hoped it felt that way to him. "No, don't worry. I'm good."
As if.
"I wish, Imani Ane, I wish."
And he knows. Just not in the way he thinks.