“But I love you.”
“I think you can find better.”
“Are you questioning my judgment?”
“I’m saying we’re over.”
“So you don’t love me.”
“I may have in the past.”
“You may? What changed?”
“You. I can’t recognize you.”
“People change. To believe otherwise tells me your mind is narrow.”
I read through a few dialogues I had highlighted last night and couldn’t quite pinpoint why I’ve done so. The writing is fine, but somewhere along the line, the tone swerved. In cases like these, I’d rather give examples than simply write about the issue, though I’m an editor.
I’m adding structure to the text, not part of my soul. As an editor, I shouldn’t look to do the author’s work. I’m a guide at best.
There was a bit of an urge there. Sometimes, the mere exposure to a manuscript induces the urge to write. I’m no writer. The only things I write are editing comments and private journal entries. I entertain the urge with these entries. A journal is a place without rules. Above all there are no readers.
In the end, I typed an abstract comment and hoped for the best. Despite being in a creative field, I don’t get to exert creativity, which is quite funny. Not to claim writers have it easy. I couldn’t ever think up an entire book, write an entire draft, create distinct characters, or market my book like the indie authors I work with do.
I’m only a fresh pair of eyes while they’re the body and soul of that book.
Anyhow, it’s safe to say my all-nighter was half a bust.. I didn’t finish the work. Slept a while, only to be sitting at the dining room once more. Hands on the keyboard, eyes on the manuscript.
I blame it on them. Well, mostly one. Vaughn made me work more. And Hael didn’t bother me that much the first time around and showed up at my limit the second time around. It was Egon. He distracted me for longer than he was downstairs. He really did leave after his can of sparkling water, but the image of his fall he left behind.
I laughed. All by myself. As if I were deranged. I was delirious from the wee hours for sure. I couldn’t have laughed at that when fully awake.
I was even afraid to see him now. What if I can’t hold my laughter in front of him? I still wonder why I found this so funny. Concern came first, of course, and it’s still here. But this was straight out of a cartoon, I feel. That whole night was, and Egon’s fall was the cherry on top. I wasn’t supposed to be interrupted like that.
Surely I wouldn’t be interrupted in prime daylight when they’re all supposed to be occupied, I thought seconds before the stairs creaked.
Hael came down, safe and sound—he wasn’t clumsy like Egon was. I’ve never had to make these observations in a usually empty house. It’s bothersome.
“You’re going back to work? So soon?” he asked, taking a seat on the second-to-last step to put on his shoes.
His tone was surprisingly aloof. I’ve heard those questions before from my parents. From their lips, they were scoldings. From his, a simple question. One of a stranger.
I realized that he’d tried his best. That he went against his kind nature to leave my space intact. Perhaps that was true to his nature all the same. He didn’t have selfish kindness, or a saviour complex.
He did not even want to impose himself as my soon-to-be step-brother—given he didn’t mention it or act like one. For that, I could be grateful.
“I’m tying loose ends I didn’t have the energy to finish this morning,” I answered, my hands still hovering over the keyboard.
I answered out of courtesy.
He nodded into a smile, confusing me.
“I’m going out to buy work supplies. My suitcase could only carry the bare minimum. With some research, I found that Blue East had an art store that doubled as a gallery. It looked promising.”
“Art supplies?” I thought at loud.
I wasn’t supposed to hint at my curiosity, nor was I supposed to pursue it—even in mind.
“Ah. I didn’t mention what I do for work. I’m sorry.” He let go of his shoelaces and met my eyes. “I’m a freelance artist as well as a web comic creator. I’d hate to be bound to a single project, which is why I like to stay busy and wear various hats.”
He rambled again, but it satisfied that odd curiosity which came over me impulsively. I learned more than I asked for. Correction: More than I would’ve asked for.
“I hope you find everything you’re looking for,” I said, hoping he’d leave soon.
Though I found his job(s) fascinating, engaging in a long conversation was the last thing I wanted to do. Not when the deadline was landing soon. Not with a stranger who specifically lived in my house. I’d see him again every day. Most strangers you don’t worry about seeing again.
“I’m not looking for specific brands or many items. I think it’ll be fairy easy,” he said in a breath. “I guess I’ll get going,” he finally said. “Do you need anything from downtown? I suppose you don’t go there often.”
I guess he got carried away with his words.
“I’m alright. Thank you.”
“I can get you lunch. What you’re snacking on doesn’t seem enough.”
And that’s where my previous praise of him crumbled like those cookie sticks lying on their wrapper.
“I had a bagel sandwich earlier. I’m fine.”
I didn’t have to explain myself, given that what I eat is my business alone, but I felt the need to. Pathetic again.
“I’ll…see you later then,” he said, smiling but covering the awkwardness I seem to bring everywhere I went.
I didn’t want him to think that we were getting close or even friendly. This morning might have been misleading.
We briefly spoke then, and we parted after I washed my dish and told him about the coffee truck. It was in exchange for the overnight oats. The truck wasn’t a secret. It’s just not well advertised. Maybe I should have mentioned that. Otherwise, it might’ve looked like a kind deed.
After Hael left for the store, I went back to my report. The last step before I could take my hands off that novel. However, it wasn’t long before someone else interrupted me. It was a repeat of the all-nighter times two. The stairs creaked again, this time from downstairs.
I should have sat on the other side, I thought, and given my back to both of these staircases.
Vaughn, wearing a navy blue polo shirt with white stripes across and beige dress pants, took the seat I contemplated taking next time. He faced me and stared with fierce green eyes.
I’m in a house of clowns, I thought.
I stared back only for a while before I decided it was safe to ignore him and get back to my work. And only when snubbed did he let out a sound. A cough.
“Hello,” he said, his tone forced.
Though “hi” was the obvious thing to say, I wasn’t sure what to say.
“Hi?” I sounded lost, my eyebrows curving with my lips. “Um, is there something wrong with your room?” I assumed he was here for that. I’ve only heard complaints from him. It was an easy guess.
He took a long breath and released it sharply. His green eyes suddenly felt all too intense.
“I won’t get to that,” he said, sounding more composed after that breath. “I have questions for you.”
Questions after questions. I’d been more optimistic than I thought, thinking it’d just be awkward in the house. I didn’t think they’d interact with me so much.
And naturally, he still had complaints. If Hael’s nature was kind, Vaughn’s was hypercritical. From his clothes to his demands, the man was suspicious.
“Go ahead,” I ceded.
“Alright, I’ve noticed you have papers and an open laptop in front of you,” he motioned offhandedly. “Are you in the midst of working?” he asked, and put his forearms on the table to link his hands together.
One thing that’s for sure is that he’ll never be mistaken for Sherlock Holmes, and neither will I because I had no idea what this was leading to.
“I was working, yes,” I said bitterly.
I was working until he struck a word with me.
“Perfect. Now do you typically work from home?”
“I do. I’m a freelancer.”
He nods, his left index finger lifting from his clasped hands.
“Does it occur to you to work elsewhere? You know, since you have latitude?”
I hadn’t heard the word “latitude” used figuratively in a while.
“Coffee shops,” I answered curtly.
The questions were oddly specific and rather than a conversation—I didn’t ask for—it sounded like a survey.
I did a survey just like this one before to amass enough points for a gift card.
“Are there places where you cannot be productive?” he continued.
“Sometimes my house because it’s so comfortable and full of distractions.”
Regardless of my doubts, I answered his questions. We were in an interview-like trance. He kept shooting follow up questions, and I instinctively responded.
“So, you prefer a space with ambience, yet it shouldn’t be so distracting that you’re absorbed by it. Was this right?”
“It was.”
Then silence. There wasn’t room for silence prior, but he’d pulled back, his hands unclasped and his eyes on the kitchen window.
It’s as though he took a moment to think. At the same time, I wondered what he was plotting? Was he manoeuvring his way to justify a complaint? Was he softening the blow in advance of an unreasonable demand? Even if he spoke so formally, he didn’t look that cunning to me.
If there were no strategies to this at all, then he’s plain nosy. That too, I didn’t see in him.
Soon enough, Vaughn returned to his business stance, as if the stakes were high and I knew something he didn’t.
“Do you have complaints about operating from coffee shops—when you do—? Is there something you reckon is missing? Something that would make the experience more ideal?” his tone was grave, and his eyes still in direct contact.
“Vaughn, are you opening a coffee shop?” I asked because the more he mumbled like a child pretending to be a businessman, the more this sounded like market research.
His eyebrows twitched, and in the midst of being taken aback, he reclined in his seat.
“I would never,” he quickly answered, discomfort in his voice.
My first question of the “interview” had turned the tables around. I found myself clasping my hands too.
“Please answer my question,” he then said, his gaze on my papers instead.
A little amused, I decided to entertain the rest of his interview.
“I like the music they play, when it’s not country or the entire discography of whoever’s super fan was the barista today. I like when people talk and it becomes unintelligible background chatter. The ones who laugh too loudly can bother me, though.” He nodded at that one. “And when it’s after school and the shop’s crowded by students, it becomes impossible to focus. The place starts to look and sound like kindergarten, despite most students being teens. Other than that, I think the sounds of machinery are great too. It’s all part of the ambient experience. Truthfully, I don’t think there’s anything to change.”
“What you need is crowd control,” he said banally, like it were an acceptable remark.
I did need crowd control, not for coffee shops though, but for this house.
“Tell me, Vaughn, what makes you so curious about my work and needs?”
He was deceptive. Since he isn’t kind like Hael, there was no way he was concerned. And he’s not as respectful as Egon either. This man was plain rude, let alone the fact that he’s hiding something. It might not be criminal, but it might haunt me for ages.
“No particular reason,” he smiled for the first time. “I’m a naturally curious person.”
He was lying with the door open.
“That being said, I’ll take my leave now.”
Before I thought of a reply, he had slipped on dress shoes that he’d picked from up his staircase. Then he was gone, leaving nothing but a cloud of doubts in the air.