My coffee turns cold and untouched. I'm so busy that I have forgotten to drink my coffee—I have drunk none for today. I just come by to work for three hours and I already want to go home; too much demand for time, energy, and labor. I'm tired of pleasing these hungry rich people. I wonder what is the job of the girl. She's too fragile to work in a stressful environment like this one. She's too sick to work in the media industry.
The bus finally gets to my stop. When I enter the gate, the girl is waiting in front of the door. She looks at me and smiles so widely, showing her teeth as her eyes spark. I can't believe a dying girl can smile this hugely. I like her acting uniquely. She seems so perfect. She's so positive in life that it vibrates around me.
"Would you like to come inside?" I ask.
"Sure."
We climb the stairs to my door.
I will make some coffee for us. I place two cups of black coffee on the coffee table. She quickly grabs one, putting nothing else in it. Funny, because I haven't met someone who drinks and likes their coffee black without sugar or creamer.
"So… we have a lot of things to talk about!" She says as I put sugar in my coffee.
"What do you mean, talk?"
"Well," she clears her throat. "my birthday is around the corner."
I look at her cluelessly as she opens her hands towards me.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"You have to plan for my birthday, dear."
I flushed. I couldn't get why me. Why do I need to be here with her? She's putting me in a situation that I have no plan to be in.
"Why?"
"Because you're my friend." She says, rolling her eyes at me.
Oh shit! Is this how being rich makes you feel? Does being rich make you friendless? I can't believe someone can be this desperate to have a friend that she considers someone she just met as her friend. Friends are important, as they say. It's a word for strangers forming a family born in a different bloodline.
"I know that look." She says.
"I'm that easy to read?"
"I'm not a reader. Everyone's giving me the same exact expression."
Shit! I don't want to be the same as everybody else. I don't even know why I care so much. Not to be the same as everyone.
"I'm not that kind of person. I just thought you know." I say. "It's just, we just met. Yet, you already consider me a friend."
She chuckles. "That's sweet of you."
Sweet. She says sweet instead of kind. I hate that this feels like she's flirting with me. Is she or am I just assuming? Delusional?
"Honestly, I hate being mediocre about everything. I always want to do things differently: always want to be different. I don't want to watch or read things that are on trend."
She smiles at me, relating to what I've said. I know that I'm saying it over and over again, but I love her vibes. Her aura radiates the entire house. The corners of my living room brighten but her smile. I have never had friends since I never enjoy staying here. I never had intentions of having one, since I like my solitude. Besides, I always want to leave. Since it only means losing her, I don't want to be her friend. I know it would only end. I never had any connection in this place. Maybe I have to start calling this a country. Because this is not just a place, it is a country with cool people, like this beautiful lady. But we can't be friends, especially lovers.
Wait! Why am I thinking of that? That's not possible. Things like A Walk to Remember are not happening, can't happen, are impossible to happen, in real life. It's just in books and movies. I'm not Augustus and she's not Hazel. We can't help each other with our grief, can't help our pain save each other. Salvation is not real. This world has no heroes, just full of people trying to survive in this tragic and cruel world we live in.
For years, I've been living away from my parents. I still can't accept the fact that I'm living in this country, but now it seems like I can finally accept it… because of her. It's because of her aura, magnetizing me into her.
"You know what? We're actually the same." She says cheerfully. "I hate being 'like the others'. There's no more tragic than being a copy of the others." She chortles, looking at the ceiling. "Funny, because I am not like the others."
"You're not like the others." I echo. "I'm happy we're in that agreement."
"So, what's your plan for my birthday?" she asks.
I thought we were through, but we're not yet finished with that topic. I thought she was over it.
"Let me think about it, okay?"
She smiles at me, and I smile back at her.
"I hate grandeur parties, just small ones, okay?"
"Hah! What an unbelievable bossy." I say emotionlessly. "I'm friends with my boss and can't believe you can be this hard to please."
"I'm giving you a favor. At least you won't be spending a lot of money."
"Well, first of all, I will give you a favor and you are putting pressure on me. We're not even friends."
She stares at me, hurt. "I don't know how to deal with people." She frowns, looking at the floor. "My parents barely let me go outside."
Oh shit. Second time to offend her.
"You're not joking when you said you never had a friend." I whisper.
She shakes her head. "I'm not a liar."
"I hate people." I say to her.
"Ditto."
"I don't know how to deal with them as well." I say.
"But have you ever had a friend?"
"I do."