Crafted by angels – Chapter 14

 

Their destination drew nearer and nearer. He looked at his watch. She was looking out the window. She indulged that for once, time was not the number. She had no schedule to adhere to; no tick tock to make sure she was on time. It was a luxury, a luxury she hadn’t known how to enjoy. Life was too much of a rush back home. Not today, not now. She breathed deep and smiled. He caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. He brushed his hand over hers.

 

“Look, the water fountain” he pointed.

 

She turned her gaze to where he was pointing.

 

“The last time I was here, they turned it off. I was so disappointed. I am glad they have it on today. We will go and see it later.” He mused.

 

She nodded. She had never heard girls muse over water fountains before. Perhaps it was because it never came into context? But he was not the first boy to be fascinated by water fountains. Was it a gender thing? She kept it in her thin box to figure out later. In her head, she was wondering if there would be any ducks around for her to play with. Or at least pigeons.

As he drove into the city, he told her what he knew of it. Most expensive city to live in, traffic was horrendous, they turned off water fountains right when he wanted to watch them, it was difficult to find parking,…she listened patiently and wondered where all the people were that he spoke of. It looked pretty deserted to her.

He finally pulled into a spot, but cautiously peered around. Where she was from, it would have been fine to double park and leave your phone number on the dashboard. Or you could park at the restricted areas. He was cautious not to.

“I do not care. I will park here.” He says.

“Ok”

They step of the car, he locks it and he walks three steps before turning to her.

“No, we cannot park here. We will move.”

“Um, ok.” She wonders what changed his mind in the three steps that he had taken. But it was his car after all, so she tumbled back in and they made their way out of the slot.

They passed building after building as he searched for a place more agreeable to him. Finally, turning into one he found more to his liking.

It was the most bizarre thing. The underground parking was spiraling downwards with bays left and right. How does one know how many levels he had gone down? It just went on and on spiraling downwards. Did it ever end? What if you reached the end and there wasn’t a spot? How do you turn your car so it can head its way back up? She pressed her nose against the windows looking out for a spot.

Finally, one was there. Once again, they got out of the car.

“Do you have your keys?” she asked before he locked the door.

He patted his pockets “Yes”

“And your wallet and phone?”

“Yes”

“We should remember the parking spot number so it’s easier to find it later”

His head snapped up briefly “Yes, we should.” He went back to look for the number.

“Ok, got it.”

“See, if you didn’t have me with you, you would have walked off without knowing you parked your car. And then you would’ve been angry that you couldn’t find your car.” She tossed her head triumphantly.

He smiled at her “Yes, I am lucky to have you here with me”

“Now, how do we know what level we’re at?”

 

 

 

Somehow, they managed to get themselves back to ground level. He peered at the ticket machine.

“I must see what the rates are like” *looks down at the machine and curses under his breath*

“…the most expensive city…” as he walked off out into the crisp, cold air. She trotted behind him.

 

How does he know where he is headed? As she followed his lead. She pointed her nose upwards, trying to whiff the air. It didn’t tell her anything, not much to her surprise. Shops were closed, and there weren’t that many people about. He had told her that the city was pretty much closed for the event. She, on the other hand, still wondered where they were going and how it was that he knew where he was going. There was a sureness in his step, a confidence she rarely saw. She looked at his shoulders, and noticed the strength in them.

Finally they reached their destination. A small crowd of people were already there, all for the same purpose as he. He was visibly annoyed; that he had to drive all this way and go through all this hassle for this event. Never again, he says. Never with them again, and not if they do it in this city. She irons out the wrinkles that forms the frowns on his forehead.

“You are angry again” she coos at him.

“I’m sorry. It is a habit of mine.” For a moment, their eyes lock.

“When I get there, I will tell them I am unhappy. I will do so in the local language.” He tells her.

Her head cocks to one side. Where she was from, many languages are spoken, and no one apologized for speaking in a different language, one where another person in the group might not understand. She realized that when that had happened, back at home, it had always made her feel excluded. Yet, it was not something anyone apologized for. Not where she was from.

As they joined the line, she realized she was in a park. There was a large floating balloon in the nearby fountain.

“I will go there” she tells him.

He looked slightly alarmed. “Do not go too far” he tells her.

She was already five feet away.

It was drizzling, and she takes out her rain poncho and adorns herself with it. He hated the rain poncho. “Rubbish” he called it. He was disgusted at her insistence at keeping it. When she had taken it out, he cringed as she crawled her way into the rustly plastic. He stayed in line as she wandered towards the fountain. She sat on the wet stone surrounding the fountain, knowing the poncho would keep her dry. Happily, she sat people-watching and the gentle murmur of the waters behind her.

It had stopped raining, so she took off her poncho and set it aside. A man came asking her for it. She was surprised. Who would want such a thing? Then she realized he was a garbage collector. She politely told him it was hers, and that she intended to keep it. Just as the garbage man walked away, her twinkling eyes met with his. He was done with the events registration, and had spotted her with the garbage man.

“What did he want?” he asks her, gesturing towards the garbage man.

“I put my poncho down and he came to take it. I had to tell him it was mine.”

“Ahah! I told you it was rubbish. Even a professional agrees with me.” He looks at her triumphantly.

“What professional?” she crinkles her nose at him.

“He collects garbage for a living. He knows what rubbish looks like. That is why he asked you to surrender that….that thing” he retorts.

She glares at him, defeated. But still, she firmly grasps the drizzly wet poncho in her hands.

 

 

They walked out of the park, across the street, further down nearer to the lake. He stops abruptly.

“They turned it off!” he says, staring into the distance.

She tries to follow his gaze, but sees nothing.

“Unbelievable. They turned it off. It was on just now, and then they turned it off. I hate this city.”

It suddenly dawns on her he was talking about the water fountain. He was truly upset that they had turned the fountain off. Frowns once again decorated his beautiful forehead. She reached up again to smooth out those wrinkles.

“At least we saw them just now” she tries to soothe him.

He looks down at her, meeting her gaze. He breathes in, and they quietly walk away. Back to the building, down the elevator, into the spiral carpark, and drive out into the small lanes of the city.

He taps something into his phone.

“Here, read this out for me”

She looked down at what it was. A GPS on their way back. Well, that was what she supposed it was. But it was in their local language. She read it to him. She had learnt some of it a few years ago.

“Not bad” he says.

“Yes, but here they pronounce it weird; different from how I learnt it”

“No, it is the same”

 

She now understands the annoyance that was widely spoken of.

 

Regardless, she happily read to him the directions and they were soon on the highway back home. On came the songs, as they sped through. It was only a day, but it seemed like there had been a lifetime together in the previous years. Two strangers were in the car, but not one of them felt like it. They had had a lifetime together, and yet at the same time they had not.

 

He turned down little lanes, and then they found their way up a mountain.

 

“I want to show you where I used to work” he says.

 

Up the mountains. Her spine was filled with little chills. These were mountains whose beauty she had only read about. And now she was on her way up one of them. With him. She stole a look at him. Then she looked down at the trees below, as they gained altitude, the lake reflected the sun and cast shadows of the trees they passed.

She recalled a Marian Keyes novel she read. The girl in denial of her addictions, and was sent to a clinic up the Swiss mountains. Could this match what she was seeing before her? The hustle and bustle she claimed to love back home; how could she be enjoying this? Perhaps it was that he was right there beside her. Perhaps it was that her usual allergies didn’t seem to come attacking. Perhaps because of the crisp cool air that flavored the scene. It didn’t matter. She loved it. Loved the moment. Loved loving it.

As they reached the clinic and he was telling her tales of working on a mountain, she imagined the Marian Keyes novel again. She dug through her mind for the story and put the clinic into the story. There was a real place like that. It was real. Not just a story.

He told her about being stuck in snow, of the cars he had had. He told her about the outdoors, and shoes he had to borrow. He told her of his work.

 

Then, at a little turning, he stopped the car. She looked out the window. The view was breathtaking. The sun was setting, and the orange tint across the lake and up the earth that curled into the magnificent mountain she was on made for a much more incredible view. She was speechless. Long has it been since she had appreciated raw beauty. Raw, natural, untouched.

She wondered what it would be like to spend a night in these great outdoors. Away from the technology, away from all the other humans. Just her, a tent, and the stars above.

 

But she would be too scared to do that alone, she knew. What if there were bears? She suddenly looked to her right. There was a steep wall of trees. What if there were bears? She couldn’t shake off the feeling. Or Jason. It wasn’t Friday, was it?

She scanned her surroundings. No cars passed by. Why would there be? There was nothing on the mountain save for the clinic; and it was the weekend. People were curled up in their homes resting, away from this quiet mountain. The road was small, and only a barn nearby. It was abandoned. There were shovels and a wheelbarrow nearby. Sparse trees that would make for great barriers in trying to run away. The walls of the mountain were steep, and near impossible to climb up. The drop down was sure to at least sprain an ankle. It was eerily quiet.

 

“You’re not planning to murder me here, are you?”

 

He looked around, not looking her in the eye. He smiled as he looked into the distance.

 

“Yes, this would make a good murder spot.” Was his short reply.