“Hey... come back here. You can have the damn muffins and don’t give me that look. You're the one robbing, me of my muffins so cheer up and eat. Lil miss grubby!” he exclaimed.
“How come you talk with so little accent?” she asked with wonder in her eyes as it was her turn to stare at his lips as he talked.
“I don’t know. Maybe because I was originally born in the United States and I lived there till I was twelve!”
“Ohhhh... so you are United States citizen?”
“I think I am. Do you think I am?” he asked with a comically clueless look on his face.
“I think you are!” she said with mirth.
“Come...” he said standing up and pulling her with him.
“Let’s get out of here.” She let him pull her out of her chair and let him drag her across the room.
“Aren’t you going to pay them?” she asked as they neared the door. Again, he smiled and looked at her
“Why... I already paid her” it was a riddle that she wished she could solve. She watched him wave goodbye to the woman behind the counter and she watched her wave him back with a full smile. When did he pay her? How did her pay her? Because as far as she had seen, as far as she could see, he had not paid her at all but had just come into the place and ate her muffins and drank her tea for free. She wanted to question him but the crowd in the streets were deafening so she didn’t bother. At least not yet.
“Where are we going?” she asked him as loud as she could when she noticed that he wasn’t leading her towards their house.
“To deliver you to the giant mushroom instead of me!” he said with mischief again. The corners of his eyes were crinkling and the excitement in his voice was palpable even over all the noise of the multitudes in the streets.
She laughed. It was a loud feisty laughter and he loved it,
“But for real... where are we going to?” he shook his head.
“It's a surprise. Tell me you like surprises.” She smiled. She wanted to tell him:
“Yes I like surprises if it is tall and handsome, with beautiful lips.” But she didn’t. Instead, she just nodded and decided to wait and see what the tall dark and handsome surprise had for her as a surprise of his own.
“Okay.” he said as he took hold of her hand and started to manoeuvre her round the crowd. She noticed that the crowd seemed to be moving in the same directions. They all wore colourful clothing and she could already see some fireworks going off in the distance.
“Does your giant mushroom monster by any means have anything to do with fireworks and colourful clothes?” she asked with a smile as she suddenly started to realize that it was a carnival going on. He shrugged as if he had no idea and then before she could press him for an answer, a loudspeaker somewhere began to blare some really nice music she looked around her and suddenly, it seemed like she had been surrounded by all these dancing people. She would never have guessed that the town had a population that huge and as she watched them, she started to feel excited.
“For tonight's is gonna be a good night...
For tonight is gonna be a good good night!” the speaker was saying and she was nodding.
“Dance if you want to, silly, and stop nodding your head!” he yelled over the din of the music.
“I'm a horrible dancer!” she screamed back.
“Well then... let’s step on each other’s toes all night long. I am worse than horrible.” She laughed as she tried to imagine him dancing all over the place. She knew that it would be some sight and she would have given a lot for the opportunity to see that.
“How is your stitch? Is it still bleeding?” she screamed at him. He shook his head and frowned.
“Why are you yelling?” he asked her and she realized for the first time that each time she talked to him since they had been in the crowd, she had been yelling but each time he talked to her, he had only moved his lips and yet she had been able to tell what he was saying. It was a sudden realization as she realized that she could read lips.
“Oh my god! Are you kidding?” she whispered to him and he smiled. Finally, she got it. They didn’t need to scream to hear each other over all the noise. They could hear each other without their voices.
“Come here!” she pulled him into a warm embrace. It was her way of saying thank you to him for having shown her that she could communicate without voices.
“Come... let's get out of here and take a walk.” He said to her
“But we haven’t danced yet.” She grumbled.
“Okay... twenty minutes of dance.” He said with a look of authority.
“Thirty” she countered with her defiance obvious on her face and body. And he shook his head.
“Twenty-five.” He said with a note of finality in his face.
“Deal!” they shook hands and she immediately launched into all sorts of body gyrations that had nothing to do with coherent dancing. She was all over the place and actually stepping on his toes like he had predicted that she would.
“Hey., you are going to need to calm down with all that shaking okay?”
He said and she laughed in his face and continued her dance. He watched her with amused tolerance. She was moving around like a drunk penguin and he made a mental note to tell her just that the first chance he got.
She started to back her backside into him with seductive movements that made him open his eyes wide and the go straight faced instantly. He could feel himself responding to every movement she made, either she touched him or not. She had a way of capturing his attention and holding it while she danced like a maniac all over the place. She was sweating as her body bent into unbelievable angles and her waist gyrated in the spasm of excitement. He watched her warily at first, wondering how she could claim not to know how to dance but know to wiggle her thin waist like that.
“If she knew how to dance, I would be dead!” he said to himself sarcastically. The music was growing faster and her body was responding to it. Moving to the beat so synchronously that he started to wonder as to which one of the two was following who. Was the music following her or was she following the music?
The music rounded up with a series of drumbeats and came to a stop abruptly and if he didn’t know better, he would have thought that she had practiced and rehearsed her own ending as well. The minute she was done, he lifted her into the air in appreciation of all the dancing and she screamed. Her legs flailed about in the air as he swirled around with her in his arms. People moved backwards and away from them in order to give them space.
“Put me down... put me down this instant” she was screaming and he laughed at her. After a few minutes of her blushing furiously and asking him to put her down, he finally relented and placed her on her feet gently. The minute her feet were on the ground, she felt a spell of dizziness wash over her and he had to grab her to prevent her from falling. He held her that way for a while until she was finally able to stand by herself.
“Can we go now?” he asked when she was done and she nodded breathlessly as beads of sweat poured from her face unto her neck and chest.
“Come.” He said simply and took her hand. Again, he led her through the crowd of people and they walked westward when they burst out into the empty street.
The night away from the carnival ground was quiet and full of the voices of chirping birds. As they walked away from the carnival ground, she looked back and saw the lights in the distance. Something about the way the lights glowed in the distance got to her and she smiled quietly. Talk of romance finding unromantic people.
He walked her towards a small twenty-four-hour park and putting his hands on her shoulder; he made her seat and then sat next to her. After a few moments of silence, he said to her almost quietly.
“So... tell me about you.” She looked down at her hand and shook her head. What was there to tell? What was she to tell him? That she was a book nerd who just liked to peep at some guy through the hole in the wall between their rooms? That she was an only child and that she had
left her mother to come far away for learning because a part of her was scared that something would happen to her? That she was a Christian who only went to church when she remembered and only prayed when she needed help? There were so many things she could tell him about herself but none of them was flattering enough information so she kept her mouth shut for the moment and instead smiled like a cornered cow.
“What is funny?” he asked her with his solemn voice.
“Nothing... what would you like to know about me?” she said to him. He hesitated slightly. Then he scratched his hairy head as if he was trying to remember something.
“Well... tell me about your family back home.” He had somehow gotten himself to the one topic she wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss. The minute he mentioned “family”, she knew that the night was about to become emotional for her.
“Well... my dad is dead. I used to live with my mom until I went to college and then came over here.” She said simply. She hoped that the shortness of her sentence would tell him to back off. He looked at her for a minute and then started to fish for something in the folds of his jacket.
“Do you like popsicles?” he asked offhandedly.
“I guess... they're not too bad.” She said. Wondering what the hell popsicles had to do with what they had just started to talk about.
“Here.” He said as he handed her one rather large one. She unwrapped it and promptly popped it into her mouth. He was still looking at her and this time, she was starting to feel really uncomfortable with the way his eyes seemed to bore holes into every inch of her body. Why was he staring at her like that? Was he hoping to see through her soul and gather all the information that she was not volunteering? Or was he just intentionally trying to rile her in the hopes that somehow, she would eventually break down and confess everything about her family? What sort of game was he playing and what was his aim? She looked away from him and pretended like she couldn’t care less if he was looking at her in that weird way. After what seemed like year of trying to seem indifferent, she gave up the battle and looked at his face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she blurted. He smiled at her question and then shook his head.
“Well, let me ask you this. Do you trust me?” she looked at him and wanted to laugh. What the hell did he mean did she trust him? Of course not. At least not really. He was practically a stranger and come to think of it, she didn’t even know his name. She had known not to trust that waitress’ words after she sent that poor excuse for anything as a handyman to help her fix her place up. She had mentioned that her next door neighbour would be a man named “Dean” but this man looked many things but Dean. In spite of the fact that his accent was little and was not really interfering with his English, the dragon tattoo on his back and the katana in his room were enough evidences that he was a man that was very in touch with his Japanese roots and was very unlikely to have a western name like Dean. She didn’t know him. She couldn’t possibly trust him. But how was she to tell him this without making him feel bad and putting him off for good? How was she to remain his friend if she ended up pissing him off by saying that she didn’t trust him? She swallowed hard and looked at him with hopes that her eyes showed some sincerity.
“Well... we don’t really know each other that much... and you could be anyone for all I know, I am not afraid that you might do me harm because I don’t think that you have a motive to, but at the same time, I can't really say that I trust you.” He nodded as if he understood everything she had just said.
“Yet you unwrapped that Popsicle and plopped it in your mouth almost immediately. What makes you sure that what you have in your mouth at this minute is not laced with poison?” her eyes opened wider and she pulled the sweet out of her mouth in response to what he had just said.
“Oh my God! Why would you poison me?” she asked with wide eyes as she looked at the Popsicle with wide fearful eyes. He shook his head. “That is the wrong question right now.” He said and she listened. Waiting for her body to show signs that she had been poisoned.
“What have I gotten myself into? I knew there was more to this guy right from the beginning. I just didn’t know that he could want to kill me just for the fun of it!” she was thinking to herself.
“The right question right now is why did you trust me with your life and body? You don’t even know my name, yet I offered you something and you not only took it but stuck it in your mouth immediately without scrutiny. Tell me, what is the colour of the popsicle in your hand? Don’t look at it!” he said and she was starting to realize that he was right. She really didn’t know the colour of the popsicle she had in her hand. Hell she didn’t even know the maker!
“I... I'm not sure. Red?”
“Purple. It is purple.” He said and then she looked at it and saw that he was right. The colour of the popsicle was purple. She shook her head at herself gently for her behaviour.
“so let me guess, you already trusted me with your safety, you have trusted me with your life, but you will not trust me with an information that really would be of no use to me but an avenue to get to know you?” she suddenly realized what angle he was coming from. Taking the popsicle from him and eating it without even bothering to check what it really was or what colour it was showed some amount of trust that ought to be extended to telling each other about themselves. He was right, in not wanting to talk to him about her family, she had been irrational. Considering the fact that she would take something from him and eat it without bothering to investigate what it was.
“I'm sorry.” She said with her face averted.
“There is nothing to be sorry about. I just wanted you to see that you already subconsciously trust me. You just have to let your conscious mind do it too.” She nodded. Still wondering if the popsicle was poisoned. As if he could read her mind, he giggled and shook his head again.
“And no... I did not poison the popsicle. You are not going to die” she burst out laughing then and let her head rest on his shoulder with a slight bounce. They were both quiet and looking at the sky as though there was something interesting about it.
“My dad... he was a wrestler. No... He was a street fighter. Not really a wrestler.” She paused as if she was getting memories that she really would rather not have.
“He used to be in the beginning of the fights. One of the first rounds. He would get beaten up most times as part of his job was to get beaten up. He was being paid to lose...”
The night was still and her voice seemed to be floating on the surface and into the distant places. Somehow, when he noticed that she had started to tell him the story about herself, she put his arm around her shoulder just so she would feel secure and trust him all the way.
“... He would come back home bruised and wounded. Lose a lot of blood and often spend weeks recovering. My mother would stitch him up and tend his wounds. She is a nurse, but she ended up nursing him more than any other patient she ever had. Sometimes, I would come back from school to find him in his bed, unconscious and her by his side, sitting and waiting in agony for the moment when he would come to his senses. There wasn’t enough money for much of a health insurance and thus, she had to treat him as much as she could by herself. She only had him go to see a doctor when she knew that she could not handle him alone. Then one day, she could not handle him at all...”
Amie’s eyes were looking into the distance. Seeming to see everything and nothing at the same time. He sat there and watched her as she told him the story that brought lumps to her chest and tears to her eyes. How her mother had knelt in front of her and had told her while holding her hands that her father was dead. How she had stared at her in disbelief and shock and had remained in that exact state right up to the moment that he was buried two weeks later. How she had suddenly realized that the funeral was indeed the one last time she would get to see her father and how that had set her up for the nightmares that came over and over again for the next one year. She hadn’t found the right amount of tears to
mourn him, but she had felt that vacuum, that emptiness every day since that day that she had said goodbye to him.
He sat there and watched her talk. His hand remained on her shoulder and as her mouth moved with her words, her throat vibrated against his shoulders. Sending silent shivers down his spine. He kept his arm around her as if to dare anyone or anything to touch her ever again. When she was done, his fingers squeezed her shoulder gently over and over again. He waited for over twenty minutes for her to be composed before he said anything. When he was sure that she was calm enough and that the silent tears had ceased and her voice was clear, he said to her in a gentle voice
“If this counts, you seem to me like a very energetic and positive person, you have not allowed the pain of your past to influence your life too much...” he said. And, when she looked up at him as if she was about to disagree, he quickly added
“Except for the fact that you ran away from home and all the memories of happiness with him reminded you again of how it was back in the past. She smiled. That was exactly what had been on her mind. She nodded.
“Except for that.” They were silent again for some minutes before she gathered her wits about her and pulled away from him for a bit.
“When you said that the popsicle was poisoned, you sounded so real. I actually believed you. Is this something that you could do?” his eyes hardened for just a second and she would not have seen it if she had not been looking into his eyes when she asked her question. He looked away from her for fear that she might find the truth in his eyes. He cleared his throat as if he was trying to decide what best to tell her.
“To be honest with you, Amie, I am not a saint. In fact, I am very far from that word. In reality, I am closer to the opposite of the word than the word. I have done a lot of bad things in my life and one of the reasons I am here is because I am trying to get away from all that and start all over.” She blinked twice, trying to figure out what part of all he had just told her he had actually confessed to killing someone before. What did he mean by “bad things”? Just how far had he gone? Fraud? Blackmail? Murder? What exactly would be the accurate description of the nature of his crime? She sat there and looked into the distance until he said with a heavy voice.
Hidden: A Dark Mafia Romance (Forbidden Kiss Book 1) Page 6
