The Concept of Perfection

Chapter Fourteen- Two Separate Lives

Chapter Fourteen- Two Separate Lives

            A sense of familiarity surged through me as I bounded up the pavement. The sky—black, with scattered stars, the lights of all colors, the chattering, the busy late night ruckus of party goers, the occasional couple walking hand-in-hand—I missed all of it. Above all this, I missed the way no one ever cared about you. The nonchalance and the coolness of it all. As if your problems didn’t exist.

            The building loomed upon me. It’s one of those days where everyone has to eat out, for no particular reason. Business had to go on, of course.

            The funeral was held earlier this morning, right after my plane landed on New York. My Mom, as opposed to what I expected, wasn’t a total wreck. If it wasn’t for the tears I saw her shed, I would’ve believed that she didn’t find all of it devastating. But what really broke my heart was the way I asked her if she was okay during lunch, and the way she said she was completely fine. And how, when she thought I was asleep in my bedroom, she cried and wept and sobbed.

            I took a calming deep breath. My hands curled around the metal handle of the glass doors, and I pushed my way in. For a second, everything caught up with me. All the events, all the things, all the pain and sadness that seeing this familiar structure could bring me.

            A painful choking sound escaped from my lips, but was ignored in the midst of all the busy times of Rebecca’s. I sighed out and took one step forwards, forcing myself to continue walking until I reached somebody.

            “Oh, God. Adria?” France looked at me like he suddenly saw a ghost. “Adria!” He hugged me out of the blue.

            “H-hi!” I quickly hugged back before I stepped back to look at him. He’s a full head taller than me and I had to tilt my head to meet his eyes. “It’s me.”

            “It’s really you,” he said. “Wait ‘til everyone hears about you.”

            “N-no!” I began to shout but he was already on his way to call all the others. Same old France. When he started to work for Mom, we became easy friends. We just had so many things in common. We’re not exactly the best of friends, but we were friends nonetheless.

            I was familiar with everyone as they all circled around me and said things about missing me and me looking so much beautiful since the last time they saw me and stuffs about the details as to how I came upon Rebecca’s.

            When a customer started to give us dirty looks, they realized that the customers are still waiting and that they should be working.

            “I’m helping out,” I said, going over to get the red apron the waitresses wear. I put on a wide smile as the door opens. I walked my way towards the door and saw them.

            The Louvre’s have always enjoyed eating at Rebecca’s and often came as regulars.

            “Good evening, Ma’am, Sir,” I said in my friendliest voice. I always had a genuine liking for them. “Table for five?” I asked them.

            “Oh dear, no. Table for eight. My cousin visited us and he brought his family along.” Mrs. Louvre was as dazzling as usual. Black cocktail dress, with her black hair piled up in an intricate twist. I think they had a long day of ballroom dancing and ballet recitals. They always had. In truth, it’s too bad Mom decided to skip tonight because of all that emotional stress going on. Mrs. Louvre really loved my Mom.