I knock at the door and a few moments later this opens revealing an old man, the typical image of a grandfather. White and perfectly combed hair, thick white moustache, trousers perfectly ironed, braces, a white shirt, bowtie and an argyle cardigan. He’s shorter than me and every time I see him I think of Geppetto but instead of having Pinocchio, he has cats. He’s a willower, like the Mister Fredricksen in Up and I’m sure Mister McDean suffered as much as the character of the film when his wife died. Luckily for Mr McDean, they had children. They might not visit him often or at all, but he has students he marked that are almost as his grandchildren. I come visit him at least once a month since he retired. I help him and we talk a bit and I always invite him to our performances. He’s always helpful.

“Harold, Archibald,” he greets us merrily. He’s probably the only person who calls us for our names without making it sound like a scold, as it happens when your parents call your name. “What a lovely surprise. Please, come in,” he adds opening the door wider for us.

I notice at his feet Desdemona, the coloured cat that rubs herself against everyone’s legs when she wants love. I grab her and bring her to my chest to start petting her and, as usual, she starts purring. So with the cat in my arms, I walk inside with Archie close behind.

“Would you like a cuppa?” Mr McDean asks politely.

“That’d be lovely, Mr McDean. Thank you very much,” Archie replies and I nod in agreement, very busy giving love to the cat. She’s just so cute.

As we normally do when we visit Mr McDean, or at least like I do because out of all the students he’s had, I’m the one who pays him visits the most often, we go to the living room and wait. He’s seventy-one but he’s as active and spry as if he were fifty. He likes to do things on his own and even if he enjoys our company, he doesn’t like youngsters to pity him for being old. “It’s just making tea. Even as a wee lad I could do it and I won’t stop now,” is what he usually says when I try to tell him I can prepare the tea.

Mr McDean arrives with a tray with a teapot, three cups and some biscuits and puts it on the coffee table in the middle. Archie reaches for a biscuit and I’m still petting Desdemona, but I manage to get hold of my cup. As usual, it’s delicious. Mr McDean really knows how to prepare tea.

“Well, my dear boys, what brings you here?” he asks casually. “You Harold already came last week. Is something wrong?” he questions next.

“I’m sorry if I’m being rude but I came here to ask for a favour,” I say stop petting Desdemona, but she stays sleeping on my lap. “It’s for something really, really special.”

He looks at me for a couple of seconds like when he’s reading a passage of any Shakespearean play, in utter concentration, reading every line and every meaning in between. Then a little smile comes to his lips and his eyes show amusement.

“Is it about that girl you were telling me about?” he asks and I now Archie is watching this very carefully, an amused grin on his lips, as well.

Yes, I’ve told Mr McDean about Maca, especially when I wasn’t sure if meeting her would be a wise idea, even if I was dying to.

“You said she’s a very, very special girl,” he continues and from the corner of my eye I see Archie eating his biscuit slowly, almost cockily. I know that attitude, that look: he’s waiting for me to say out loud what I feel for Maca but even if he’s my best mate, I won’t say it because I know how creepy it is. Furthermore, I know it’s a bit weird and unconventional to have feelings for someone I haven’t met yet. So it’s more complicated than saying I fancy her or not.

“Yes,” I reply. “For Macarena. I’m meeting with her this Sunday,” I tell him and his smile widens, happy for me.

“That’s wonderful. I know how much you’ve been waiting to meet her. But how can I help you, Harold?”

“Well…” I start, wondering how he’s going to take all this crazy idea of mine. “I’m not just going to meet her. I’m planning a whole day for her, with a scavenger hunt in which she has to collect the letters of my name until we meet, because she doesn’t know my name yet,” I explain and he furrows his eyebrows.

“Why doesn’t she know your name? You know hers,” he comments and Archie throws his hand in the air in an I-know-right way.

“I have my reasons,” I answer looking down, focusing on Desdemona’s hair.

“Fair enough,” Mr McDean says instead of pushing the subject. This, and because he knows more about Shakespeare than any other person I know, is that I like him. “So what do you want me to do? Because I will help you, Harold. You look the same as when I met Marie. Did you know that when I met her she was about to move to Liverpool with her parents and I literally chased after her because I couldn’t let her go. I knew she was special and I would do anything to make her understand what she meant to me.”

I swallow hard because in a way that’s what I’m doing. I’m trying to make sure Maca knows she’s special to me, I want to be burnt in her memory so she’ll never forget about me. I want her to know I’m doing all this for her because I honestly believe she’s special.

“You’re doing the fair this weekend, so I thought she could come here as one of the stops. I’ll come tomorrow and help you set everything and I’ll also hand you a letter you’ll have to give her with the next clue. You just don’t say my name and take a picture with her at the end. I’ll hand you a Polaroid, don’t worry. Oh wait… I said I would hand Kristal my Polaroid…” I muse, realising I only have one.

“I’ll hand her mine, you give Mr McDean yours and then she can carry yours from there on until you meet and she’ll give it back,” Archie proposes and I’m so happy he’s with me.

“Yes! That’s a good solution. So, as I was saying, I’ll give you my Polaroid and you take a picture with her because I’ll meet her at the end of the day and I want to see a picture of her on every stop and with the people I’ll make her meet, like you,” I explain and my former Shakespeare professor nods. “That’s basically all.”

“I don’t see a problem. I’ll do it happily, Harold. I can see she’s special to you but can I ask you a question?” I nod. “How do you know? I knew the moment I saw Marie, but what about you?”

I stroke Desdemona, still sleeping on my lap, as I try to find the words to explain.

“It’s a feeling, I guess. When I read her replies. I know she’s really grateful and that my post-its mean a lot to her, that they help her and if they do, it means she’s not having a good time. I feel like she needs me.” I chuckle at my own words. “That sounds very narcissist, doesn’t it?”

“A tad bit,” says Archie and I chuckle. My best mate, always honest.

“I really want to make her happy and I feel like she needs someone by her side and I want to be that someone. As a friend or more, I just want to keep bringing happiness to her because if she’s so grateful for simple post-its, then it means she’s really having a hard time. Plus, she replies. She always replies and no one else has done that. No one has been grateful enough to leave a reply. That alone makes her special in my book.”

“She is,” Mr McDean agrees and that’s a relief. I’ve always seen him as this wise figure I should always listen and respect and his opinion is very important for me. So the fact he doesn’t regard me as just a disillusioned guy who’s seeing things where there’s nothing means a lot to me. “To be honest, I’m very excited to meet this girl and see for myself the young lass that’s captured your heart like this.”

I feel my cheeks blushing but I don’t correct him because as I said, it’s more complicated than just accepting or not my feelings.

“Don’t tell her bad things about me,” I joke and he laughs.

“Don’t worry, Harold. I only have good things to say about you,” he says and I feel so pleased. “You and Archibald are such good lads. I couldn’t say something bad about you even if I wanted to.”

“Thank you,” Archie and I say. “Well, I guess we should take our leave. I have to convince more people to help me,” I tell him grabbing a biscuit for the first time. Archie has eaten almost them all.

“Oh, you won’t have a problem with that. Just smile like you always do. When you smile you make people feel at ease and they trust you easily,” he advises and I smile as widely as I can.

“Like this?” I question and he laughs.

“A bit less and you’ll be fine. Just a wee bit less,” replies Mr McDean and Archie and I chuckle this time because I was clearly exaggerating. Mr McDean also laughs, knowing I wasn’t serious. “Good luck, Harold. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mr McDean,” I say and against my will I have to get up and wake Desdemona. I really don’t want to, she’s so comfortably sleeping that it hurts me to disturb her, but I’ve got to go.

I move as carefully as I can but she still gets startled and jumps, landing next to the tray. Of course, as a cat she’s sharp but I thought she was going to jump on the teapot so I reach to stop her.

I fail.

Desdemona leaves unharmed but I trip on my own feet, falling on top of the coffee table and I swear I do my best not to destroy Mr McDean’s furniture. I grab the teapot in my hands when I see it’s falling after I pushed it when I was falling and turn landing on my back. The teapot doesn’t break, instead it spills its content on me, and yes, it burns.

“Oh my God, Reid! Are you okay?” Archie hurries to my side, taking the teapot and helping me on my feet but I kick the armchair I was sitting on and almost drop it.

I nod to Archie and sit straight. “I’m sorry,” I say as I look at Mr McDean apologetically but he’s smiling amused.

Well, it’s not the first time I have an accident in front of him. My clumsiness is my tread mark so everyone around me is used to these shows. Still, they get worried.

“As long as you’re unharmed I don’t mind what happens, Harold. Go get clean,” he instructs and I nod.

I grab my jumper to keep the fabric from my skin as I go to the toilet and take it off to wash it the best I can. Mr McDean knocks at my door a little while later. “Harold, I’ll leave a jumper here for you. It’s my son’s so I think it will fit you.”

“Thank you!” I say from inside, really grateful that I won’t have to go with a stained jumper and wet tee.

After a while I’m changed and safe and sound, despite it looked quite bad. My skin is a bit red, but I didn’t get injured. I’m wearing now a long black jumper that’s a bit oversized for me, but it’s very comfortable and warm. Mr McDean hands me a bag to carry my stained clothes and bids us goodbye. When we’re outside Archie shakes his head.

“You always threaten his house,” comments Archie and I laugh to disguise the embarrassment. “Yet you always come out unharmed.”

“That’s my superpower,” I say and he laughs.

“Anyhow, Superman, where to now?” Archie asks me and I know he’ll love the next stop.

“We’ll go to see Rosie and Orlando. The next stop is the shelter.”

Archie smiles happily. “Great, I’m dying to see Lulu,” says my friend and I have to agree. I’m dying to see that beauty.

-:-:-

I'm soooooorry! I knew I had to write but well, Being Human happens. I'm obsessed watching that show (the UK version of course). I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'll try to post the new one sooner as compensation!

Bel, xx