One (20 page)

“
Listen, I know you have questions, Timothy. I just needed to get out of there. You want to talk and that’s fine. I just need to eat something. Come on, I cleared out a place where we can have dinner.”

The sign outside the door read Drake Bros. Restaurant. As I walked inside the room, I found the area was immaculately cleaned. She had cleared every table. There were no items on the floor, no smell of rotting food. Ana immediately ran over to the large windows toward the back of the room.

“
This is the Drake Bros. This place has great steaks, service, and best of all it overlooks, Lake Michigan. However, since it’s just us you’ll have to be the great service tonight. The kitchen is back there. I had a bunch of stuff defrosting to eat tonight. So you cook and I will prepare our table.”

“
Alright, I can do that and then we will talk.”

As I walked into the kitchen and began preparing the meal I started to wonder what she would tell me, how many questions would she accept and would there be some that she would not answer. I had spent most of my time thinking about myself and my family ever since this started. While I used my time trying to find an explanation Ana had seemed to accept this place. There was no way I could abandon my search. How long could the city, the world keep going without anyone to run it. While the fires would eventually burn themselves out the question was what would be left after that? What would we do, travel from place to place living out our lives? Could that have been what I truly wanted all along, to be away from people, to just travel with someone who understood me? Is it possible that I had mistaken this place as a punishment when it was really a reward?

“
You’ve been in there an hour!” Ana called out. “I can smell the food from in here. Do you plan to bring it out anytime soon?”

“
I’ve just finished. I’m coming out.” I answered back.

Nothing more than small talk occurred during the meal. My mind was preoccupied with making sure to phrase my pending questions correctly. If I went too far I could lose her, but as much as I wanted to believe those were my only concerns they were not. A connection was established between us since we had met. Even with my harsh questions to her there was something more than just the need to hear her answers. She was remarkably beautiful and just sitting with her made me happy. The conflict of feelings between what I wanted to know about her and how I felt told me the undeniable truth. I was falling in love with her.

“
You’ve kept your end of the bargain. I’ll answer anything you ask the best that I can.”

“
I just want to know why you believe you are here.”

I could see in her eyes she was searching for what to say. It was not that she was crafting a lie, but more that she was deciding how to tell me the truth. There was no way I could figure out if she was going to tell me everything or ration it out bit by bit. Another possibility would be that she would not answer and instead do something else I had anticipated.

“
First you tell me why you believe you are here. I promise I will answer, but I just want to know.”

“
I don’t have a clear answer, just theories and unanswered questions. The night before everything started my family questioned me for not wanting to be more social. They believed I was withdrawing from my family and friends, cutting myself off from human contact because of what happened to my father.”

I learned that the best way to get information from some was to give information. While it was true that I did not want to talk about all the thoughts I have had since everything began it was clear she would not tell me her story unless she felt she had someone she could relate with. If my story had any connection points with hers she would consider us two of a kind and would be more willing to open up to me. I knew how to give her the story without revealing the ending. In this case it was easy. I did not know the ending.

“
Your father, what happened to him?”

“
He was killed in a car accident about a year ago. It was a drunk driver. He hit him on the way home. He survived the initial crash, but died later that night at the hospital.”

Never had I used the death of my father as a means to get anything. After the way many of our so-called extended family and friends treaded us I had no wish to even tell anyone. I hated pity and having to hear people I had just met tell me they are sorry for my loss. I was prepared for her response; it would be automatic and predictable.

“
I’m sorry, Timothy.”

I pushed forward and gave her my story.

“
They believed that because of his death I had changed and perhaps it's true to some extent. They just didn’t understand that I was like this long before he died. It's just that at that time life was too good for them to notice. I guess that's how it is. Sadness can hide within good times. I told them not to worry about me. I still had friends and a life. I didn't think much had changed. It felt to me as if they were projecting their own feelings onto me. It's not like they haven't changed themselves.

My sister kept it inside. I saw her spend hours writing into a diary. My mom spent most of her time in her room working on her laptop. I felt as if I was the only one who kept going. I went back to school and had a job so I was dealing with it. I did tell my sister I wished I were alone sometimes, away from all this. I was tired of being asked about how I felt over and over.

Right before I went to bed I spoke with my sister. She told me when you're all alone and the only voice is our own you find out the truth about yourself. I told her that was what I needed, what I wanted. Then the next afternoon I woke up to this.”

I was giving her what she wanted and strangely, the more I spoke the more I wanted to hear about her life, not just for the answers I desperately wanted, but also to know more about whom she was. There was always the possibility that we would have to live out our lives together in this world and if I was to accept that I had to understand her.

“
Then for you being here is about finding the truth about yourself and your family?”

“
That's what I thought. Even though I was trying to find my family and an answer to all this I couldn't stop thinking about my past and things that happened between me and my family and my friends. Then I found out my family was keeping something from me. I was ready to dedicate my time to finding out what it was and then I met you.”

And that was what unraveled everything, the addition of an outsider to a tale I believed was all about me. If she was here for a purpose then it was up to me to find out what it was. To help or hinder, it was fifty-fifty. Perhaps that was why I was developing feelings for her. Maybe it was real or maybe it was a trap I was slowly walking into.

“
If this was about you then there would be no reason for me to be here. So you want to find out how do I fit into your story?”

I wished I could hear her thoughts, the process of how she breaks down information and dissects it. Clearly she had a keen mind and I wanted to know if she was truly like me.

“
If that is your question I don't have a good answer for you. I'm not saying there is no reason for me to be here. It's just I cannot pinpoint what it could be. I grew up having pretty much whatever I wanted. You would think that is the start to a happy life, but it isn't. People treat you differently when your family has money and power. Either they hate you for what you have or they fear you for who you are. I had plenty of people around me, but none of them loved me, none of them was my friends. Maybe that's why this world isn't as frightening to me. What's the difference between being by one’s self or alone amidst a crowd?”

She did understand. To be alone amidst a crowd, not only was it how I felt sometimes it was also similar to what Dr. Leafs talked about when describing my supposed condition. Ana had told me so much with only a few words. She was wealthy but did not revel in her money like many in my building. Being forced to perform up to your father’s standards I also could relate to. While my grades in school had much to do with my own strive for perfection and excellence it was also instilled heavily by my father. I took it as a challenge and mastered it; she accepted it until she was able to reject it.

“
I don’t want to talk as if my life was all horrible. My father tried his best I suppose, but he was too busy running his company to worry about me.”

“
Who is… was… your father?”

She paused and looked at me as if the answer would change everything between us. I could not help but wonder if her response would be one of the answers I sought.

“
His name is Nathaniel Davalos.”

“
Nathaniel Davalos, of Media One…?” I asked in amazement.

At that moment everything began to come together. I knew the man, the company and now I knew who Ana was. With this revelation it was possible she was part of my sub-consciousness and not a real person, but it was also possible that she was a kindred spirit. I stared into her eyes recalling everything. She clearly did not know me, which was understandable since she never actually laid her eyes on me.

“
I know you, well, not personally. My father worked for yours in one of Media One’s financial departments. I remember the day he told us that he was going to be promoted to vice president. There was going to be a party at your father’s home.”

“
Yes, my father held those business parties every year since I could remember. That was when he would name all his new top men and present them to the rest of his employees. He told me once it was to show the others that anyone could make it to the top if they put in the work and remain loyal. I hated those parties, the fake smiles and false complements. You could not have seen me there; I never attended those parties.”

Her observations were dead on with mine. I had gone to parties and functions with my father before. Maybe it was there that I found my hatred for the pompous asinine people who flaunted their money and power. Watching my father having to kiss their asses and smile at their crude jokes sickened me. I made a promise that I would never be like him in that regard and I would never act like them.

“
It wasn’t specifically at the party that I met you.”

“
No….then where…?” She asked

By the time my father achieved his vice president position I already had my fill of those gatherings. Prior I was able to find an excuse to avoid attending them, but for his big promotion I had no choice, it was a family event.

“
When we arrived my father gave my sister and I a speech about how it was important to make a good impression and how his promotion would change everything for the family. It was more for my sister than I since I had attended other functions. When we arrived I just sat in a corner looking at people. My sister fell asleep so I decided to go exploring. Your house was humongous. I ended up getting lost. I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn't get caught. All I wanted was to get back to where I was sitting when I heard crying.”

“
You…you heard me crying?”

She was embarrassed and I sympathized with her. The sound of her sorrow echoed throughout the massive hallways. It drew me to her and I could not explain why. Perhaps I wanted to know why someone with so much could feel so much pain. Maybe I already knew the answer. We had moved into the new apartment just a few months before. Meeting the snobs and elitists in the building boiled my blood. It was entirely possible I wanted to watch her cry and revel in it.

“
At first I couldn't tell where it was coming from. I thought maybe it was someone else who was lost or bored so I followed the sound. I walked down a hallway and a light coming from the room at the end of it. The door was open and I saw you lying on your bed crying. You looked so sad. I felt sorry for you. All I could think about was what could make someone living in a house like this so sad. It made me feel bad. What were you crying about?”

When I found her it was not joy I felt seeing her in that state. The sadness was real and went deep. Normally I did not feel the pain of others. Either I could tell the emotions of others were false or they were unstable. With Ana I could feel it as if it was my own and the truth was it scared me. Up until then I never found out why that was, but it affected me, there was no denying that.

“
It was the anniversary of something terrible that happened. I hated that dad picked that day to hold his stupid party. I guess he wanted to hide his sadness in good times.”

“
I could understand that.” I replied.

She turned away and looked out into the night toward Lake Michigan. I could relate to her even more now. While I looked out into the dark void of the lake at night to clear my thoughts the goal was the same, the relieve pressure. Whatever it was that happened to her wounded her deeply. It caused me to consider my own anniversary, the day my father was hit by the drunk driver. Was it possible Dr. Leafs was right? Was it possible that my turning toward the darkness to relieve the pressure led me to this place?

“
I was scared at first, Ana. I can’t really say why. I wanted to walk up to you and tell you everything would be okay. I guess I didn't because I wouldn't have believed my own words.”

“
It was better you didn't. Back then I would have just screamed at you for spying on me and slammed the door in your face. I wasn't very approachable back then.”

What I could not understand was why I felt this way twice for her. When I first saw her I truly wanted to console her and that was completely unlike me. Even with Christine I never felt that way during her most trying times. Something about her, first when I saw her in her room and at that moment looking into her eyes, she could change me, in an instant.