19 18. Manda and Mara

"I still expected that you wouldn't turn up," was the first thing Samara said when I sat next to her with a wide smile. She looked peaceful in a simple black shirt, black pants, and sports jacket with her dark hair pulled in a neat ponytail. Her face was pale, yet calm and undisturbed.

"I tend to stick to my words." I tilted my head and studied her more. Her fumbling fingers with broken, unpainted nails fought to stay in a fist before they decided against it and just settled for pushing her sunglasses up her nose bridge.

"Okay, so are you ready?" She smiled and I raised my eyebrows.

Not really. I'm quite busy with shit I'm knee-deep in because of my father. But, hey, you sounded disappointed and my heart murmured, and I couldn't just find it in me to refuse, which was crazy weird because I'm always cosy with being rude. But I'm so very busy, Samara and I really don't want to see your aunt, and maybe I'm just here, running from my shit. Or maybe I'm just here to see you- I wanted to say all that as I stared at her but then I blinked away and shook my head.

"Yes. Of course, I am." I said instead, inhaling deeply.

"Okay, come on, then."

...

After almost half an hour of walking, we stopped in front of an enormous, fanciable house with a big garden stretched out in front of it. The house was on the side of a wide, slightly damp street, and there were lots of other almost identical-looking houses, neighbouring it and on its opposite side.

"Your house looks great." I smiled at nothing in particular as I glimpsed a small water puddle next to my boots. It was drizzling this morning.

"Oh, thanks. It was my aunt who decorated it. You'll meet her in a while." She said enthusiastically and I nodded curiously.

We then walked through a tiny fence, across the garden, and finally up the stiles to finally stand in front of a white, wooden door. I looked around and found a comfortable-looking bench-swing on the porch. Her hand then moved in calculated steps, up the wall, to press the doorbell. Twice.

After a few minutes, the door was yanked open by a short, plump woman, maybe of forty, with an apron, pencil skirt, and dark-brown hair tied in a neat bun. She too was wearing black.

Focus.

"You must be the Julius she's been talking non-stop about!" She exclaimed/stated and I smiled painfully awkwardly.

"Yes." I pressed a smile. "That'd be me." I shrugged slightly, glanced at Samara as Amanda slightly raised an eyebrow before beaming at me.

This moment went under the 'choosing-rude-would've-been-worth-it' list. Which also included my acceptance to go to Caroline's party, if you remember. I would've rather declined the invitation to Samara's house than stand like an awkward peasant in front of her aunt.

Her green eyes twinkled as she plastered on a pleasant smile. "Oh, welcome, son. Please come in." She then stepped aside, welcomingly. Not finding any appropriate thing to say, I walked in bemusedly and, needless to say, deeply regretting having come here.

But feeling Samara's calming presence next to me helped me relax.

"I know she might seem like a hard person, but she's actually great. Takes care of me." She whispered and I raised my eyebrows.

"Hard? Not at all. She seems like a nice person." I muttered with raised brows.

Amanda's voice then came from behind us to tell us to follow her into the dining room. We entered the luxuriously furnished dining room with the longest mahogany dining table I thought I ever saw in my whole two-and-a-half decades which I'd managed to survive.

"Please be seated. I'll be back in a minute with the food." She then smiled sweetly, before leaving both of us alone.

I was relieved because she was overwhelmingly welcome. Being that welcome interpreted to one of two things. Either she really was happy and would stick with us like a protective parent. Or she was pretending to be happy to hide her true intentions. But I knew I'd figure that out soon enough.

"So where would you fancy sitting?" I almost whispered as I looked at the infinite number of possible seats.

"Next to you." She mumbled under her breath and I couldn't help but smile.

We ended sitting on the two seats that were closest to the door.

"So tell me more about you," I said, letting my fingers slide along the edge of the table.

She turned to me. "What do you wanna know?"

At that, my mouth opened pathetically before shutting again. What did people normally discuss when they meet someone? It was awfully quiet as she awaited my response, to the extent that I had to push my memories way back to childhood. Mostly school.

I then remembered a casual question. "Your hobbies," I stated too flatly and cringed at my tone.

She straightened up at my question and smiled warmly. "Hm...I love playing the piano. I love music. Obviously-" She added with a chuckle. "Because it's something I can hear...and feel." She fumbled with her fingers and looked down.

"That's nice." I complimented, raising my eyebrows.

I hated music.

"What about you? What do you like to do?" She asked shyly and I looked at her. I remember examining her round, soft face, her button nose, her soft, pink lips, and for once realizing how beautiful she actually was. It was good that she was blind or she would've been disturbed by the amount of ogling I always did when I was with her. Out of curiosity, really. Of course.

She cleared her throat and I snapped out of it. "I like reading and riding horses," I replied quickly.

I liked shooting too. In fact, I was very good at it. And, yes, I actually did like reading. I had shelves impregnated by the weight of a tonne of books before Father decided that it was a waste of time and threw them all away when I graduated from university.

"Horses? I've never been on a horse," she said. "What's it like?"

I looked at her again. Her peaceful demeanour, her sophistication, and charisma.

"It's very beautiful," I said distractedly and then shook my head, clearing my throat. "It -uh- feels like you're powerful. Fast and flying. You don't get to feel those in real life. So it feels good." I smiled slightly at the memory of riding Blue Frost, my horse.

The door was then barged open as Amanda came in with a lot of plates. I instinctively got up to help her. And you really ought to know the story behind how I got that brilliant, 'great-impression' giving idea. So I was in the hotel's suite, smoking a cigarette in my room's window (away from Sam and her damned allergies) and watching a family set their dining table through the window of the opposite building. I was absolutely mesmerized by their coordination, in spite of it being insipidly normal.

"Oh sweetie, you don't have to do that." She started and I raised my eyebrows.

I am never sweet. Amanda- I paused, giving her a quick glance.

"No, of course, I have to." I then smiled slightly as I took the plates from her and helped set the table before she left the room again.

Samara was just sitting there, in her place, smiling effortlessly all that time.

After a few minutes, Amanda came in with a roasted chicken, then rice, peas, and soup. It was a lot of food for three.

When we finally sat down and served our plates, Amanda started talking. "So, Julius," she said after swallowing down some white wine. "- what drew you to Mara?"

I swallowed and looked at her surprisedly. "I-" I started, caught off guard by her question. "It was -uh- actually very random. We happened to be sitting on the same bench. In the park. She asked me whether I wanted to listen to her music and that's really it."

She looked intently at me with a thin smile, fork and knife in both hands, before nodding. Despite her fun demeanour, her eyes were calculative and smart. She didn't look ′kind' to me.

"Yes. She told me about that-" She said, dabbing her mouth corners with a napkin. "What I meant was, why are you her friend?" She asked and I raised my eyebrows, before clearing my throat quietly.

"Because she's a great person. A positive one. I like being around her." I said slowly, choosing my words. I wasn't even focusing on what I was saying as I was on Amanda's subtle glare. It was as if she was waiting for me to utter a wrong letter to break the 'deal'.

She nodded. Chewed slowly on her food. Cleared her throat. Clasped her hands. Looked down. Pursed her thin lips to a line. Looked up at me. Unclasped her hands. "But she doesn't need a friend." She impossibly smiled and the fork I held, fell from my hand to the floor with an insignificant thump.

"Amanda." I heard Samara mutter and I furrowed my eyebrows before quickly bending down to pick it up.

I stayed down for a while.

What in hell's name?

I then went back up and smiled gently at Amanda. "Why?" I said amusedly. "Do you see me as a bad influence?" I tried to sound cool as I stared in her darkening green eyes.

But, oh, Julius, you were a bad influence on Audrey now, weren't you?- a voice echoed from the darkest pits of my soul.

I swallowed and clutched the fork tightly in my hand as she laughed quietly, covering her mouth with her hand. "That's something for you not to prove."

I chuckled lightly and glanced at Samara who looked serious with a small crease between her eyebrows. I looked down at my plate and played with the peas with my fork.

I pushed my plate away. "I am full."

"Yeah, me too," Samara said right after me and I tried not to look at her.

Amanda looked up and grinned, clasping her hands together. "Okay. Go, Mara. I need to talk to Julius alone." She looked pointedly at Samara and tilted her head smiling. She then averted her sharp eyes to me. "For a while."

Samara's lips twitched as she touched the tabletop with her thin, dark-blue, nail-polished fingers and then pushed herself up. I watched her move on and leave in a few seconds.

I looked back at Amanda and smiled despite the bubble of uneasiness that threatened to burst in my gut. "So what do you wish to... commune about?"

Her smile fell. "Let's be honest-" She said, getting up, and pushing in her chair. "- who'd be friends with a blind girl?"

I raised my eyebrows in evident shock. "You're saying this as if you weren't talking about your niece." I voiced my thoughts and she smiled coolly.

"Please. Answer my question." She persisted, cocking an eyebrow slightly.

I sighed wearily. "I have never talked to a blind person before because I never found the reason to. But she was the one who started the conversation. We met a couple of times ever since. And opposing your beliefs, she's a great person to be with despite her disability."

And I was being fairly honest. I admired her maturity and simplicity that she wore like a beautiful dress and her playful shyness that she bore like a tiara.

"I know," she said giving me a tight smile.

I looked at her questioningly.

"But why her?" She continued and I clenched my fists.

"I think you've asked this question in almost three different forms and I answered it. And honestly, I dislike being treated like a bad person if I've done no harm. I value her and would never harm her. How-so-ever, if you want me out of her life, as apparent, I promise you she will not see me again." I said vehemently as anger and adrenaline found their way in my ′seconds-away-from-boiling' blood.

She sighed and walked around the table until she stood behind me. She then placed her disgusting hands on my shoulders and I flinched slightly. If I could've shown her my ability to claw hands from bloody wrists, I bet she'd be more than ecstatic to engage with me in this fruitless, 'manners-demanding' conversation. Hell, she'd be crying in joy.

I frowned.

"I'll tell you why I'm doubting you and any friend she actually gets by some weird chance-" She paused to lean in my ears as I looked at the remaining chicken piece on a big platter. The chicken piece that I violently threatened myself not to shove down her throat till she suffocates to death. No one got to whisper in my ears.

"Her father was killed a few weeks ago, almost a month. And I wouldn't be surprised if whoever killed him would be after her. And Julius, if I ever land my hands on that person, I'll make him bleed to death. Because whoever killed her father, destroyed her."

Her words made me forget my anger. I knew that Samara's father was dead. I did not know, however, that he was murdered. I felt something heavy in my stomach but decided to push away the feeling.

Why was she telling me all that? Was she doubting me? I mean, I didn't even doubt myself, because I knew I killed twenty people. Twenty people whom Father said were targets. They were twenty names I don't think I'd ever forget. Twenty names, Father and I decided needed scratching off the 'list'.

She then lightly patted my shoulders and moved away. "Alrighty, Julius. You may go now, sweetie. Samara will be waiting for you." She almost chirped and I got up speechlessly, leaving the room.

That woman is the farthest from sane- I thought bitterly as I turned a corner and almost bumped into Samara. I instantly held her with my good arm to stop her. She then smiled nervously, pushing some hair strands behind her right ear.

I looked at her and had mixed feelings. Did I really want to know that girl? I mean if there was any reason behind which why she had no friends, it was Amanda.

"Want to come up to my room?" She then asked, wringing her hands and pretending like I wasn't just grilled by her aunt a few seconds ago. "Or do you want to -um- leave?" She added later, trying to sound desperately casual. It didn't work.

"I- no. I'll go up with you." I found myself saying as I focused on the amusing delicate way her slender fingers intertwined in.

"Okay. Follow me." She then said and I raised my eyebrows.

We went up some fancy, spiralling stairs, and down a corridor before we stepped into a very large room. It was so immaculate and pristine.

Of course, it had to be that or she'd never find a thing of hers- I thought lazily and shrugged to myself.

She walked slowly, letting her hand occasionally touch the walls as she found her bed and sat there. I sighed and followed her curiously.

"I'm sorry." She then said seriously, looking down.

"Huh?" I sat next to her.

"For what Amanda told you. It was supposed to be pleasant-" She seemed frustrated as she wrung her hands and frowned at the floor.

"You don't have to be sorry for that. It's essentially natural." No, it was insane. Anyway. "Especially if your fathe-" I then came to an awkward, too-late halt.

"Yes, he was killed-" She continued my sentence slowly, yet solidly, clutching her bed covers, gently in her hands.

I didn't say anything as I looked at the huge, white piano she had in the corner of her room below a huge glass window with several plant pots on the sill. I even recognized the flowers I gave her on her birthday in a vase, centrally positioned among the other pots.

"He was a very well-known lawyer-" She said after a while. "He was killed-" She stopped and I watched her nod continuously as her other hand flew to wipe away tears. "-and they don't know who killed him."

I nodded slowly as I listened.

"And it bothers me to know that he's still living like he hasn't just destroyed my life. It bothers me to know that he's enjoying his time while I'm here, crying my eyeballs out. And it also bothers me-" She said slightly louder. "-that even if I knew who he is, I can't do anything because I'm blind-" She was trembling with anger and I didn't know what to do.

I took a deep breath and hesitantly reached out for the hand that laid helplessly on her laps. I took it in mine and squeezed it gently. "Living with the guilt that he has killed someone is the worst revenge you can get on someone like that," I said, feeling a pang in my heart as I remembered killing Sam's father and many other people before him. And yes, the guilt was there. It was a living beast that usually succeeded in taking my breath away in the most agonizing manner. And that was why I ended up in a bar to drink, hoping to suffocate it for once and all.

"I don't think people who can end a human life have hearts. They don't feel. Never mind feeling guilty. It's beyond my comprehension as to how they can apathetically watch a human being stop breathing without even flinching. It's just unnatural. Monstrous," she whispered to herself as I looked hard at her.

My heart was racing in my chest for some reason. Somehow, I didn't like the bitter truth coming out of those pretty, chapped lips of hers. Blimey, it was like I was ashamed of it. I always thought that it was a strength. But with her, it felt like weakness, like a plague I could never rid myself of. It was suffocative.

"Sometimes they're forced to do it."

"There's always a choice."

True. My biggest regret. I had a choice twenty times and I chose wrong every and each time by pulling a trigger or twisting a blade.

I looked away and pursed my lips. "It couldn't have been that easy then. The choice." I looked down and released her hand.

I thought I was choosing Father. Every time in those twenty times.

"Maybe," she breathed. "But it's not fair. It's not fair that I get to live like that. Without my dad. Without him being proud of me yet. Without having him next to me when I'm weak. On my wedding, if I ever get married. Without him holding my child-" She said as her breath hitched. "It's not fair."

I sighed, not knowing what to do to comfort her. Was I supposed to hug her? That was an atrocious suggestion.

"Samara?" I decided to say softly.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to play some piano? I know how to play it too." I said, looking at her sorrowful face with a sigh. I couldn't stand seeing her that sad and that was why I suggested something she loved. Music.

She looked up at me and sniffed before a graceful smile tugged her lips. "Yeah. Sure. I'm sorry-" She sniffed, pinching her nose. "I've invited you to have some good time, not so that you can see me cry and wail and whine and dramatize th-" She was moving her hands haphazardly as I smiled bemusedly.

"Do not be sorry." I suppressed a grin. "That's what friends are for-" I said, smiling lopsidedly and she smiled softly with a final sniff.

"Okay then. Let's do some piano-" She got up and walked to her piano seat cushion. I followed her slowly and bemusedly then sat next to her. She was kissed by the sun rays that seeped out of the window and spilt all over her, making her hair appear shinier and voluminous.

She was smiling as her fingers spread over the piano keyboard and she started pressing on the keys, producing a melody my father taught me before.

And so I joined her.

She giggled and I laughed heartily. I hated music, but I liked the way she did it. I liked the careful and precise movement of her fingers. I loved the way her head swayed with the melody she created.

Those tiny details were so precious, I realized.

...

After playing some more music and talking about random things, I left. She insisted that she accompanied me all the way back to the park and I agreed (and yes, thank the blazing stars, I didn't encounter Amanda for the rest of the bloody day).

"So...I hope you had a lot of fun." She drawled, coming to a stop as I noticed her blush.

"I did. Thank you very much-" And I wasn't lying. It was a fairly pleasant day. I seemed to only love her company more and more.

"And again, I'm sorry about Amanda." She paused, sighed, and wrung her hands. "She thinks she's protecting me, but all she's doing is repelling people away from me. That's why she insisted on meeting you."

"It's okay. I understand. Anyone would be scared for a beautiful girl like you." I said playfully and she immediately looked away, biting down a smile as she tapped her cane repeatedly on the ground.

I grinned before she looked back at me, looking like a tomato.

"You're a complete arse, Julius!" She whispered loudly and I raised my eyebrows amused.

"And why is that so?"

"Cause I hate compliments! I don't know how to-" She paused to take a breath. "-how to respond to them!"

"Oh? But I'm so sorry because I might also be in love with your hair and fingers, and sungla-" but before I completed the sentence, she'd already turned around and started walking away from me.

I laughed at her response. "I'll call you!" I then shouted after her.

She then turned a bit, flashing me a shy smile before leaving for good.

I stood there grinning like a disgraceful idiot before I ruffled my hair, took out a cigarette, placed it between my thumb and middle finger, and drew in one breath after the other.