by S. Y. Lee
If there was ever only one person by his side in his time of need, it was Sarah. People commonly say that twins have a special connection, and it was true for David and Sarah. Through thick and thin, they could always count on each other.
Now, David drifted from job to job to pay his share of the rent, with no real career pursuit or an eye on the future. As far as he knew, soccer was a fading dream relegated to the past. He was content just to not think about the future for now, getting through each day with a roof over his head and food in his stomach. But even those couldn’t be taken for granted.
Last week, he quit his job at the restaurant because the manager was making him work odd hours with no explanation and little notice, and the kitchen staff were always laughing at him after they had found out about his brief stint in professional soccer. Coming from a family of great affluence, waiting tables in a restaurant had already been a tough pill to swallow, but the mockery from his co-workers had pushed him over the edge. He could tolerate no more, so he quit.
Rent was due next week, and David had barely enough money to pay for it. That meant he had nothing left for food and other essentials, and he would have to live off Sarah. That also meant that he had to tell her about the quitting. He really didn’t want to disappoint her, so he decided that he would get a new job before he had to break the news. That was easier said than done. When he finished the toast, he switched off the television and sighed. He hated looking for a job.
*
Sarah sighed. She had nothing to do in the office today and she was just sitting at her desk, chatting with some friends online. Some days at work were extraordinarily slow. This was one of those days. Her boss, one of the managing directors of the recording company, had gone to Los Angeles for a corporate meeting. All Sarah had to do today was answer his calls, which were few and far between.
She had stuck her foot in the door of a major company in the music industry, but she wasn’t going anywhere in her music career. Sarah had no idea what the next step was. All she could do was hope for one of those moments she saw in movies, where the lead actress collided into a producer, picked up his documents, and then got offered an audition because she had caught his eye. She knew it was ridiculous, but what other options did she have?
After working here for a year, Sarah started to doubt that this was the right place to be. She knew that all rewards had to be earned through hard work and perseverance, but the vision of her dream was starting to get murky. She knew she could sing, and her family and friends would attest to that, but whenever she had to perform in an audition or to an audience of strangers, she always had a nervous breakdown. She was well-aware of her issues and no matter how much she practiced, she couldn’t shake the quiver in her voice. Hard work or not, it was an obstacle that she seemingly couldn’t overcome.
Like her brother, Sarah’s current life had no clear direction. Each day they both woke up to mindless jobs that provided little to no sense of fulfillment, with no means of realizing their dreams. Sarah was getting restless, but what could she do? Her grades had been superb enough to go to college and obtain a medical degree, which was what her parents had wanted, but she chose to pursue a non-existent singing career instead. Her parents didn’t approve, and after a major falling out with them, she had moved out of the house with her brother.
Sarah looked out of the window. It was raining as usual in London. That was how her life felt right now, always raining. She hated the summer rain.
Chapter 3
Sydney, Australia
The raindrops were tapping the window so heavily that they woke Caitlin Owen. She twisted her head to look at the clock beside her bed and groaned. It was only two in the afternoon. She had only gone to sleep at eight in the morning, and she was the type of person who could not get back to sleep once she was up. Pulling herself out of bed, she got dressed slowly and made her way downstairs.
Caitlin poured herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen while looking out at the driveway. Her mother’s car wasn’t there. Judging from the silence inside the house, Caitlin assumed that her two younger sisters were probably out as well.
Having nothing to do and some spare time, Caitlin went to the study, set her coffee down on the table, and found her pen and pad. For the past five years, she had been pen pals with a girl her age who lived in Chicago.
Even though modern technology had made it possible for them to email or instant message or even video chat, the girls preferred to communicate the old-fashioned way. There was a certain joy to be derived from waiting days for letters to be transmitted across the Pacific that they both appreciated. Caitlin usually tried her best to write once a week, but lately, work was taking its toll and she hadn’t written back in a month.
By the time Caitlin finished, it was three. She folded the letter carefully, slipped it into an envelope, sealed it, and put it in her purse. She would drop it off at the post office on the way to work.
Caitlin was a bartender at one of Sydney’s busiest night clubs. That meant long hours, starting at five or six in the evening, to as early as dawn. Recently, Caitlin was trying to earn more money for a trip around the world by herself, so she had signed up for more shifts at the club. Not only was she working herself to near exhaustion, she seldom saw her family because of the odd hours.
Most days, Caitlin would run into her sisters just before she had to leave for work, and catch up with them and listen to whatever was going on in their lives. However, it was rare that she would see her mother more than once in a couple of weeks. Her mother was a real estate agent who worked even longer hours than Caitlin did. Caitlin was fine with the current arrangement because her mother didn’t approve of her working in a night club. She thought it was a dangerous place for a girl like Caitlin to be earning a living.
Of course, Caitlin could take care of herself. She had been on the swim team in high school and towered over most men. If that wasn’t enough, she had taken karate lessons and was the proud holder of a black belt. Nobody messed with her. And unlike most of her co-workers, she didn’t drink at work and she headed straight home every morning once the night club closed its doors.
Caitlin knew that she couldn’t continue being a bartender for long. She was going to save up for her trip, and when she got back, she would tackle life head on. For the longest time, she had dreamt about seeing the world, not just in pictures and videos, but through her own eyes. Once she had accomplished that, she would be able to set her mind on the future. Or at least that was what she hoped.
She had done the math. At the rate she was working, Caitlin calculated that it would take her at least another two months before she had enough money, and she was looking forward to it. Then, she would travel the world for as long as she possibly could and live out her dream. A part of her didn’t want it to happen so fast, because she had no idea what she would do once the dream was over. That’s the strange thing with dreams. What do you do after it comes true? When it hasn’t been achieved, it’s all a person can hope for. But when it’s come and gone, what else does one look forward to?
Caitlin had to get ready for work. She climbed up the stairs to her room, looking around the quiet house she had grown up in as she took each step. Two more months to her dream. Assuming all went according to plan.
Chapter 4
Johannesburg, South Africa
It was a quiet Friday afternoon at the Johannesburg Public Library. It was abnormally quiet. Nobody was talking in hushed voices, nor were any book carts being pushed around. A few sparsely scattered students were studying at the tables and two librarians could be found sitting behind the counter reading magazines.
In a dimly lit corner, Themba Zuma was sitting at a table next to the section on world history and archaeology. He had been there for a couple of hours, deeply engrossed in his books. He looked like any other teenager who frequented the library, but the name tag pinned on the left breast of his shirt identified him as a librarian.
Reading was his passion. It
was the reason why he had become a librarian, so that he could have access to the library all the time, and even get some reading done on less busy days such as these. At the same time, he managed to earn a meager amount of money, just sufficient to sustain his living costs. To many people, it may not have been an ideal situation, but Themba cherished every minute of it.
He loved learning more about history and archaeology, and would often spend hours sitting at this particular table with a pile of books by him. The other librarians hardly noticed or cared. They assumed he was sorting books or lazing around like they did themselves.
Archaeology was an acquired passion for Themba, from an American named Richard Baker who had led a dig near his village five years ago. As a younger boy, Themba would go to the excavation site every day whenever he was free after school, and ask Richard questions about every minor detail of the excavation. Richard would always answer them, happy to quench Themba’s thirst for knowledge.
The American spoke about archaeology like it was the most important thing in the world, and Themba soon developed the same fervor for digging up the past and reliving history. He wanted to be just like Richard, to follow in his footsteps and travel the globe, leading excavations of famous and important discoveries.
Last year, he had applied for a scholarship to the Institute of Archaeology in London, but never heard back. He would try again, he told himself, until they finally admitted him. In the meantime, he spent most of his days reading in the library, learning by himself. This in turn led to his list. It was a list that he compiled from the numerous history books that filled the library, of artifacts and sites that he wished to one day unearth.
Themba was in the middle of a book co-written by Richard and his wife on Greek archaeology and mythology. In the book, Richard described his conversations with other archaeologists, some whom were, and still are, consumed with finding mythical artifacts that ancient Gods and heroes possessed.
Richard’s view on the matter seemed to be neutral, but even he had on occasion led expeditions in hopes of finding something of legend. The book detailed multiple such digs led by Richard or his peers. The results were often the same, ending in futility. Searching based on lore passed down by word of mouth or interpreting clues in history was difficult. While most ended their failed attempts in disappointment, there were many archaeologists who couldn't let go and chased their own Holy Grails into the twilights.
Richard much preferred to look for artifacts with more documented histories, that had been verified to have actually existed but were lost to time. Even if they had been destroyed, traces or remnants could always be found, or at the very least, some proof of their previous existence.
Themba’s opinion was slightly different. His childlike fascination on the subject fueled his dreams of discovering artifacts that people only thought to be myth. In his mind, that was the only way he would ever become a famous archaeologist quickly, and stand shoulder to shoulder with his idol one day.
As Themba flipped over the last page, thoroughly satisfied, he glanced at his watch and realized that it was almost closing time. He got up and placed the books back in their respective shelves. Themba knew every inch of the library like it was his home, and in a way, it really was.
After he helped to clear out the last remaining students and put a few stray books away, he bid farewell to his colleagues and left. He crossed the street and turned around, looking back at the library that was partially illuminated in in the backdrop of the setting sun. One day, that building would house books written by him, he thought. One day.
Chapter 5
Chicago, Illinois
The morning sun shone brightly down upon the luxurious estate. It was a peaceful morning, as it always was in this neck of the woods. The estate was enormous and luscious with greenery, and the mansion within stood by itself for miles. There were no other houses nearby, only trees, and more trees. From a distance, it looked like a scenic painting, with a solitary road leading in and out that gave the estate a sense of grandeur and tranquility. The walls surrounding the estate were high and security cameras sat perched at various points that covered all angles. There were no blind spots.
Jogging along the inside of the walls was a girl attired in expensive sporting apparel. Her jet-black hair was tied in a ponytail. This was Eva Lynch’s usual Saturday morning run, but she was going faster than she normally would. Summer break was here and some friends of her parents were coming to visit for two weeks. She didn’t fancy being sweaty and tired when they arrived, so she decided to finish her run earlier today so that she could get cleaned up in time to receive their guests.
Eva was also none too pleased that their guests were staying for two weeks. She was a loner by nature, growing up as the only child of highly-driven parents. She didn’t have many friends and kept to herself in college. That didn’t mean that she was an outcast or social pariah. As a matter of fact, in a recent informal college-wide poll, she had been voted the most beautiful on campus. In addition to that, her father was one of the top litigation attorneys in the country who often earned his clients millions in lawsuits and settlements. Many students sought to become her friend, but few got more than a simple hello from her.
For all her outward appearances and behaviors, Eva did earnestly want to make friends. Perhaps it was her privileged upbringing that made it difficult for her to relate to others. She found that she could only get along with people who were much like her and understood her. There had been such a person once. There was her best friend, Brittany, whom she had known since middle school. Unfortunately, Brittany had been involved in a car accident last semester and died on the operating table in the emergency room. It had been devastating for Eva, and it took her a long time to recover from the grief. Since then, she had grown even more indifferent to people than before, seldom talking to other students at college if she could avoid it.
Her mother had informed her that their friends were bringing with them their son who was the same age as her. It had gone unspoken, but it was strongly implied by her mother that she expected Eva to keep him company while the grownups were off having a good time. Eva didn’t like the prospect one bit. She would have preferred to spend the two weeks by herself, watching television, working out, and lazing around. But it was her mother’s wish, and she didn’t take no for an answer to anything. Eva could only hope that this visitor wouldn’t be too annoying and that the two weeks would be fleeting.
By the time the guests got there, Eva had already showered and changed into a set of fresh clothes. She had let her hair down, and she was wearing a political t-shirt with her skinny jeans. It was her minor rebellion against her parents by sporting a shirt in favor of a candidate they disliked. She was combing her hair in front of the dressing table when she heard her mother call out to her to go downstairs and meet the guests who had just arrived, her voice echoing throughout the big mansion. Growing up here, Eva often felt the place was smaller than it appeared; if someone dropped a spoon in the kitchen at one end of the house, she could hear it from the other end of the house. Whether it was by design or inadvertent, sound seemed to travel easily throughout the mansion. Eva had never been curious enough to ask about the phenomenon or find out more.
When Eva walked down the classical spiral stairwell in the middle of the house, the guests were just coming through the door and the housekeeper, Alfred, was helping them with their luggage. He lived in the cottage outside the main building and oversaw their daily needs.
She took little notice of her parents’ friends and focused her attention on the son. He was about her height, and his brown hair was short and tidy. He looked lean and tanned, which was likely from being an athlete or time spent outdoors.
“Hi, I’m Evangeline. You can call me Eva,” she said, offering him her hand. Only her parents and Brittany called her that, but she had blurted it out in her nervousness.
He took her hand and gave it a firm shake. “Leo. Short for Leonard. Nice to meet you, guess
you are stuck with me for two weeks. Sorry.” He shrugged apologetically.
Leo was trying his best not to stare at the beautiful girl before him. On the car ride in, he had been in awe of the huge mansion, and having just met Eva, Leo was now coming to terms that these two weeks might not be as bad as he had imagined. He was brought back to earth when he heard his mother telling him to follow the housekeeper upstairs to his room.
“Mom, where is he going to be staying?” Eva inquired.
Martha Lynch smiled. “The guest room adjacent to your room. You’ll be spending lots of time together and I thought it would be convenient if he was just next door. I’m sure both of you will get along well and have tons of fun. And I trust that you will help him with anything he needs?”
It wasn’t a question.
Eva smiled back meekly and hurried after Alfred and Leo up the stairs. She stood outside the guest room with Leo as the housekeeper deposited his bags inside. They waited in awkward silence until Alfred had left to return to his other duties.
“So… What do you want to do?” Eva asked.
“I don’t know, what do you usually do around here? Has to be boring living in such a big house away from everything.”
“Well, most of the time I just read and watch television, sometimes use the gym.”
Leo realized that she was much like him. A loner who knew how to entertain themselves but not others. He was about to ask her for a tour of the place, when he heard the chiming of a bell. “What’s that?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s the lunch bell. Let’s go grab something to eat, Berta’s a great cook, I think you’ll enjoy the food here.”
“You have bells for lunch?”
“And dinner too.”
True to Eva’s word, the cook was great. Lunch, which was a chicken parmesan with roasted vegetables, was easily one of the most delicious meals that Leo had eaten in a while. As they ate at the long table in the dining room, which was larger than his own bedroom in Texas, Leo started to appreciate how nice it must be to live here.
