Chapter 7 Φ

I tossed and turned all night, until I checked my worn-out phone and saw that it was thirty minutes past four o'clock in the morning. Taking a quick shower, I put on the first clothes that I was able to successfully pull out from my bag without having to take out everything else.

This apartment was spacious for one person. It had the minimalist approach, and I guessed that it suited Eric's personality. There were two rooms, almost identically furnished. One was ready for use, but I wouldn't tell Eric that I slept on the couch instead.

And like what he said, it had everything. Well, except for one—food.

With my stomach growling in hunger, I'd decided to grab some early breakfast. Putting everything I'd need for the day inside my sling bag, I went out of the apartment.

As I was locking the door, I glanced at Eric's place. Why was this person helping me out to this extent? It was a question that I couldn't link to a decent answer. Shrugging, I decided to focus on the things I had to do for today.

It was still early morning, so the halls were dimly lit and quiet. I walked down to the elevator, pressed the button, and waited.

Stepping inside, I looked at my reflection at the wall. When the elevator stopped at the third floor, a beautiful woman walked in. She pulled her dark curls back, adjusting her off-shoulder silver dress as she checked out her flip-flops. Appearing to be tired, she impatiently held her high heels in one hand while drumming her fingers on the railing.

We both got out on the ground floor. When she left and I was the only person in the lobby, I checked my reflection on the polished walls one last time. I was downright underdressed for this place.

I didn't own any fancy clothes, other than ones like this—a printed shirt with a cupcake logo and a pair of faded jeans. Natalie told me that I was too frugal. I never spent my clothing allowance. Instead, I added it to my savings.

But these clothes would do. I shoved my needless worries aside. If I wanted to move out of Eric's apartment, I needed a job and a place to live. Aside from that, I needed to find out more about Mr. Steve. With a city map that I'd downloaded on my phone, I was determined to achieve at least one of those three today.

"Anna?" someone called as I was about to get out of the building. I turned around. It was Eric. He was wearing what seemed to be his jogging clothes. "Where are you going so early?"

"I'm usually up at five in the morning," I replied.

"If I knew you weren't sleeping in, I would have asked if you wanted to have a quick jog with me. This is usually my routine," Eric said, noticing that I had no idea how to get out of the building. He took out a card from his pocket. "Sorry. I forgot to give you the key card. Here, just tap it and keep it."

"Oh, thanks," I replied, taking the key card. "How about you?"

"I got another one. I was going to give it to you after I get back from my morning jog, thinking you were still sleeping," he explained. When we got outside, he asked me, "Did you already have breakfast?"

I shook my head. "I was about to."

"Great! I could skip my morning exercise and accompany you," Eric told me.

"Oh, no. You don't really have to do that," I declined.

"Come on, let me show you my favorite pancake place," Eric insisted.

"Are you sure?" I still asked him, thinking it was hard to make him give up on something he had set his mind on. "You know that you don't really have to do this."

"I'm just returning the favor. You've been kind to me when I went to your town for the Lantern Festival," he replied. Opening the door of a diner, he motioned for me to go inside.

I smiled back in return. "Thank you."

We took a seat beside the window, and it had a great view of the city during the early hours of the morning. Eric yawned again, and I noticed. "You seem tired. Did you get enough sleep last night?"

"I got back a little after midnight, but I'm okay. How about you? Everything's okay in your new place?" he asked.

"Your apartment seems to be well-taken care of. Does somebody else use it?" I asked him. "I didn't even find a speck of dust."

"There's a caretaker who cleans all three of them in the afternoon. And good thing that you've mentioned it. I can call her and tell her not to clean your apartment if you want."

"Please," I agreed. "I would appreciate that. I can manage to clean it myself. I don't really want to imply any more than what you've already given me."

"Don't worry, she'll still clean the apartments even if you're not occupying it. You're not going to make it any harder for her," Eric told me, looking over from the menu that he was reading.

"I'll tidy it up myself," I said to him with a smile. "So what's the specialty of this place?"

"Their pancakes, as I've mentioned earlier. You could never go wrong with that," Eric said.

"Then that's what I will order," I replied, putting down the menu.

A waiter shortly approached us and he listed our orders. After he left, Eric leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "What are your plans for the day?"

"I'd see what else I could find about Harold Stevenson," I told him.

He nodded. "Since they're still preparing our breakfast, maybe you can tell me more about him. I might be able to help."

I hesitated.

"I mean, if it's not so much like a big secret that you can't say a word about. If that's the case, then I'll understand," Eric said.

"No, it's not anything like that," I told him, thinking that the only reason why I found it hard to share was that I had to start the story on that day. But then again, it seemed like I had no other choice. So I went on, "It was the day of my mother's burial. He came that day, and that was how we met."

"But you don't remember what he looks like?"

"I don't know. I saw a silhouette of him, and that was about it. He might be old, like in his sixties. Or maybe in his fifties. He was leaning to one side as he walked, like he's holding on to a cane or something."

We were interrupted when our orders were served. The waiter also placed two cups of coffee on our table. He checked, "Anything else?"

"No, we're good," Eric replied. "Thanks."

"Enjoy your meal," the waiter told us before he left.

"Try it," Eric said to me.

I took a bite, surprised. "This is really good."

"I told you."

"Do you want to hear the rest of the story while we eat?" I offered.

"Is my absolute curiosity written all over my face?"

"Somewhat."

Eric went ahead and asked, "So after you two met, what happened?"

"Mr. Steve came," I replied, taking a pause. "I call him Mr. Steve."

"Catchy nickname," Eric noted.

"I didn't really know who he was and why he was in that place that day. He was there at the cemetery, and he kept on encouraging me to fight on and live. I don't even know why."

"And you never asked him?"

"We've been in constant communication for years now through letters," I was telling him when I noticed that he got intrigued when I'd mentioned the letters. Rolling my eyes, I explained, "I know. Letters, like some old people. Post office, stamps and all that."

"No, it's just that I haven't met anyone who still uses that to communicate. Emails are way faster," he said.

"Believe it or not, we do. He started it, and I kind of liked the idea. There's something sincere about writing and receiving letters. I also like the anticipation and waiting. It made me look forward to something every day."

"Like I said, there's email, but I'm not gonna judge," Eric said back with a brief smile.

"Okay, moving on. Yes, I did. I asked him those things, but I guess you could say that he never really answered them," I told him.

"He must have a good reason why," Eric said.

"I also believe that is the case," I replied.

"What did you talk about mostly?" Eric asked with enough curiosity.

"Things, mostly school updates. Sometimes, I told him about the things happening in my life."

"So he's like a friend?"

"You could say that he's a friend," I said, pausing to think about it. "When my mother died, I became an orphan. My aunt took me in. But she's also a widow with three kids and is not doing so well herself. Mr. Steve helped me financially through the years, like a benefactor."

"Oh, I see," he replied.

"He's someone important."

"And you wanted to see him because..."

I gave it a thought, before telling him, "Because I wanted to know what he looks like. You know, for me to be able to associate a face with the name."

"And that's all you wanted?"

"I've saved up for this trip, which, as you evidently know, ended up with me moving to the city itself. Maybe you can also say that deep inside, I want more. Like get to know him in person. But then..."

"What is it?" he asked when I stopped.

"There's that anonymous thing going on," I indicated.

He nodded.

"With the return address ending up at that house, it's a clear message that he wanted to remain unnamed. So maybe I'd just see him," I said.

"You mean..." Eric caught my eyes, guessing.

"I'll find out who he is without letting him know that I'm here," I explained to him.

"That's interesting," he decided. "But I'm sure he'll be delighted to see you, too."

I fervently smiled, saying, "I hope so. If the opportunity arises, I would really like to introduce myself properly."

"So did the letters really come from that address?" he asked after a while.

"Yes," I answered with a nod, taking a sip of coffee. "For the last two years, the letters came from that address."

"So you've been acquainted for two years now?"

"About five," I counted.

"Oh," Eric muttered. "Did it come from somewhere else before?"

With a nod, I told him, "They came from Creeksburg."