My house grows silent the second I close the door. I sigh, looking at the mess. It's very humiliating seeing how messy my apartment is and she's been here a couple of times looking at the disarrayed place I've been living. I immediately clean the house, so the next she'll come it's welcoming and clean, less embarrassing.
Wearily sits up on the back of my neck. Laying on my bed hoping to feel better, but then I notice the dust and all the cracks on the ceiling. I've been staring at the ceiling for hours I noticed every flaw of the ceiling.
Why am I staring at the ceiling? Oh, right, I'm supposed to plan a birthday party for a person who I didn't even know.
Why would I listen to her? I don't know her, and maybe she's just bluffing to me.
I fell asleep in peace… and woke up with the same routine: make coffee, cook rice and eggs, take a shower, put on my coat and tie, then go to the office. The girl next door has a different plan for my day. She corners me in front of my apartment door. She's wearing jogging pants and long sleeves as if it's too cold to go out and a medical facemask.
"Running an errand?" she asks.
"Yup, going to work." I reply.
"Uh-huh!" she says, shaking her head.
What is this girl planning? I should write in my diary telling people if one day I'll gone, they know who to look for. It would never surprise me if she ever thinks about murdering me in the future.
"What do you mean by uh-huh?" I chuckle.
"I don't want you to go to your work."
She's really crazy!
"Dude, look, I have bills to pay, groceries need to buy, and my boss will fire me if I won't return the papers my boss needs from me."
"Fire? I don't think they'll be firing you in just one absence."
She's right. But I have a lot of deadlines.
"I have a plan with you today. You need to take a break from working. Don't you find it stressful and pretty boring working every day, doing any labors?"
"Are you crazy?" I yell at her. "Who is giving orders to me? I have a day off: Saturdays and Sundays, note that."
"I'm your neighbor and your friend." She grabs my hand and drags me out of the apartment building. I don't know where we're going and I have to resist. I have to, but I can't. she's so charming and beautiful and I can't say no to her and she's a psycho.
"Where are we going?" I ask her.
She steps in front of the car that is in a park on the street and then turns to look at me.
"It's better if you don't know." She says.
I chortle. "A surprise? I hate surprises."
"It's not a surprise, Jimbo!" She hit my shoulders. "You're the one who will surprise me, remember?"
She drags me again to her car: a rare red vintage Buick. I wondered what kind of family she has since this is a rare car and vintage.
"Rich." I joke at her.
"Do you want to drive him?"
"I don't know where the hell you're going to murder me, besides I'm the hostage."
She laughs before starting the car. "Dad's gift."
"An advance birthday gift?"
"No, he got me this car when I was 17." She looks at me with both hands on the wheel.
I look at her, mouth agape.
"Was that bad giving your 17-year-old daughter a vintage Buick as a birthday present?" she asks.
"No, but I don't know anyone who gifted a Buick, let alone a vintage one."
"I think so too." She responds.
We drive around the city for more than an hour. 'till I couldn't recognize the place anymore. She's so bossy and I'm not liking that, although I couldn't help but mesmerize her. She's so impeccable. I grew up in a country where men are more dominant than women. My family can be different, but I have never met a woman who's acting like her. I think it's the reason I choose to come with her.
"Bossy." I whisper.
"Do you think I won't hear that?" She yells at me. "Why do you like that word? That's not going to my obituary." She says.
I chuckle. I never thought she was going to say those. If ever I'm going to write on her obituary, two words can only describe her. I'll write about how fearless and carefree she is. She glances at me, parking in front of the lake. She looks at me again with her beautiful eyes and clean, white teeth.
"This is happening. Are you going to murder me now?" I ask.
She laughs at me, throwing her back like a little kid laughing.
"That's absurd." She says.
"You're crazy!"
"Come."
She unbuckles the seatbelt and waters me as I unbuckle mine. We walk to God knows where. No, she's not walking because she's hopping while holding my hands. She's walking like a kid, excited to get the ice cream. After several minutes of walking and hopping, I can hear the noise of an amusement park from afar. I look at her especially. I stop walking, letting go of her hand, but she continuously walks, then stops five feet away and stops to look back at me.
"Hey!" she calls.
"What is this place?" I ask walking slowly toward her.
She shakes her head while fishing for something in her backpack. She shows me a notebook. Now we're just two feet away from each other.
"Last night, I wrote my bucket list before I'll die." She looks at me sadly. "I only have 16 weeks. Oh, it's Friday?"
I nod my head.
She silently counts looking at the sky, before looking back at me. "14 weeks. I only have 14 weeks left, Jack."
"And?" I sadly ask.
"I made a list last night. And I want these to do, 'the things I never did before' list." She speaks slowly, trying not to cry. "That's reasonable, right?"
I nod my head. I hold my hand towards her.
"I think there's a simpler word for that 'The Bucket List'. I smile at her. "Let's do them together."
The glow of her face comes back as she smiles at her. She grabs, and we ran to the amusement park. We line to the roller coaster first; she looks so excited and happy like the kids in front of us. I capture a picture of her.
"Don't just take a photo!" she yells at me.
She looks so scared.
"But why?" I ask.
"Because father won't let me post anything on social media, especially my face."
I laugh and take another photo of her. She looks at me defensively.
"I don't have social media." I say. "Pictures could be a remembrance. We could take photos without posting any on social media, literally. Do I really have to explain it?"
"No. Not at all." She says.
I smile. "Would that be reasonable?"
She grabs my phone and takes a selfie with me. She enjoys riding all the extreme rides. I really miss riding extreme rides. It's been a while since I've been to amusement parks and being at this moment makes me a child again. I never met someone who can match my thrill-seeker side, happy to be in this moment with her.
"Aw, if only we can go to Canada or the USA to ride their roller coaster." She says while we're waiting for our food.
I look at her. "Have you been there?"
She nods her head and grabs our hotdogs. She puts ketchup and mayonnaise, then we look for an empty seat.
"Do you miss the amusement parks there?" I ask her.
We sit on the bench and place our hotdog and iced tea on the wooden table.
"What do you mean?" she asks.
"I mean, if you ever miss the amusement parks in Canada or the USA, you said you've been there."
She shoots me a gaze. "My parents won't let me ride any of the extreme rides. And…"
I wait a little longer, but she just squints at me.
"They won't even let me ride a carousel." She adds.
I drop my plastic cup and pour the iced tea all over the table. I'm expecting her answer. She acted as if she's been to all the rides before as if her adrenaline misses the feeling of being in danger. Not even a single energy been pointing that she had never been to any of the rides.
"You're not serious." I say. "This is not your first time."
"I am serious."
"No, you're not!"
She drops both her hands, putting them on the side of her waist.
She giggles. "Funny right? Unbelievable."
"I can't believe it! You were so brave!"
"Jaw-dropping?"
"Jaw-dropping." I repeat.
An ice cream truck comes nearby. She squeals like an excited kid. She hysterically taps my shoulders. I couldn't believe that a full-grown woman gets excited about a truck of ice cream. We stand on our feet and make our way to the truck.
"Oh, my gosh!" she says, looking at the flavors. "They all look delicious. Can I have all the favors, please?"
She looks at the vendor and smiles at me.
"I'll have the same." I say.
The vendor scoops our ice cream and then gives it to us. She beams so big at me.
"Cheers!" we chorus.
"Mm-mmm." She licks the ice cream. "Can't believe my parents never let me have this when I was a kid."
I drop my jaw, goggling at her. "Why your parents don't love you enough to buy you an ice cream?"
"They fear for any illness. You know, my body is so fragile for anything. I'll get any illness out there. They only want to protect me by forbidding things." She says.
She takes a deep breath and looks at the clouds.
"I hate when parents did that." I say.
"It's not their fault, honestly." She says. "I have a great life, best life, attended an elite school, great things most people couldn't and wouldn't have. I have nothing to worry about in my life. My family has a lot of money and I ask for money when I'm in need. I have a one-call-away doctor when I feel something is wrong with my body. I can ask father whatever I want." She shrugs her shoulders and looks back at me.
"I'm sorry for this question, but have you ever felt this free before?"
She smiles at me. "I want to ride that."
She points to the bumper car and runs away.