Dawn was approaching. Because there were a bunch of buildings and people around, it was virtually impossible to get a view of the horizon. That meant you couldn't actually see the sun setting, but you could at least look up at the sky and take in the warm, vibrant orange hue before calling it a day and going back home. A beautiful day of hard work ended off with the pleasure of returning to your comfortable bed in your cozy little room.
Of course, that wasn't nearly the case for me, but I wish it had been. In reality, I hadn't done any work at all, and Lyra hadn't made any sales either. I didn't even get a chance to help modify her fried salmon recipe. I assumed that I was going to be getting paid, though, so there was no reason for me to complain.
Yeah, like hell I am!
Me, getting paid? With what money? The old hag didn't even seem to care about her business, not to mention trying to make a profit. She would sit on the chair behind her stall for hours, but instead of advertising her product, she'd simply run her mouth to anyone that came by to have a chat. I waited, and waited, and waited for the chance to work with her, but it never came.
"Shouldn't we get started?" I would ask.
"Yes, yes, we'll start soon," she'd respond. Then, a random stranger would come up to her and they'd have a spontaneous conversation at that very spot and moment.
"Leander, is that you? It's been too long! I haven't seen you since the festival last year!"
"Lyra! It's so great to see you again! Who's that young man sitting next to you? Is he your grandson?"
"Heavens, no. I just hired him to help me with my fried salmon recipe, that's all." Lyra looked over at me. "Say hello to Leander, Adriel."
"Hi," I reluctantly uttered.
She would talk for an hour or even sometimes more. There were a few instances where I caught myself dozing off, but I knew better than to take a nap on the side of a busy street. Anyway, once she was finally done babbling, I would ask her the same question once more.
"Lyra, don't you think we should get to work?"
"Of course. We will, don't worry."
And, as you can probably guess, just as she finished reassuring me that we would do something with our lives that were actively being wasted away, another random person came over to the stall and the two began to speak with each other.
"Oh my goodness, Isadora! Did you cut your hair?"
"I'm glad you noticed. It looks good, doesn't it?"
"It's beautiful! I almost didn't recognize you at first. I thought I was looking at a model from a fashion magazine."
"Well, I just thought it was time for a little makeover. My husband doesn't really seem to care, but I bet that other men will, if you know what I mean!"
"Oh, you silly girl! Just what do you plan on doing?"
"Nothing too serious. I just want that man to learn how lucky he is to have me. He needs to get a taste of what'll happen if he doesn't start appreciating me more."
"That's what I like to hear! Men are so inconsiderate these days! You deserve better!"
Blah, blah, blah! I put up with conversations like this—ones where geezers and witches acted like they were high school students in the prime time of their youth—for hours on end.
"By the way, who's this boy sitting beside you?"
"Oh, that's Adriel. He was homeless, so I let him work with me. He's going to help me perfect my fried salmon recipe." Lyra looked over at me. "Say hello to Isadora, Adriel."
"Hi," I reluctantly uttered.
She didn't have to tell her that I was homeless, and she didn't have to act like I was a little kid that she was forced to babysit because nobody else would, but you know what? It didn't even matter anymore. I just wanted to do something. I would've denied the offer to work with her if I'd known it was going to be like this.
Person after person, hour after hour, the old hag continued to talk and waste precious time until the day was over and the sun had almost set. "Stay safe, Esme!" she said before looking up and finally realizing that it was getting dark. She then turned her head towards me and made an apologetic expression. "Sorry, but it doesn't look like we'll have time to work on the recipe. We can do it some other day. Let's pack everything up before the sunlight leaves us."
There was a lot I wanted to say to and ask her, like if I was even going to get paid or not, and why in the world she had a stall in the first place if her intention was seemingly just to sit around and catch up with other fossils, and that we didn't have enough time to work on the recipe solely because of her long-drawn-out lollygagging, and much, much more. But like the infinitely resilient and composed gentleman that I was, I chose to repress my desire to lash out and instead responded with decorum.
"All right."
We tidied up the place and prepared to leave. To tell you the truth, I didn't think it was actually worth it to continue to stay with Lyra and work for her, especially after seeing how a typical day of hers went. I mean, if I wasn't even going to get paid, wouldn't it mean that her offering me a job in the first place wasn't so much an act of kindness as it was…one of deception? Better put, a scam?
…What had I gotten myself into?
I hadn't done any real work yet, but if I had, it would've been nothing more than free labor with no benefit to me whatsoever. I just hoped that wouldn't end up being the case, and that there was at least some sort of payment I'd receive from it.
Disregarding that for now, there was an even bigger problem at hand. I had nowhere to sleep and no food to eat, and best believe I was both tired and hungry. I would rather have scavenged for scraps of food than settled for Lyra's fried salmon, so I suppose that's what I was going to do. As for where I would sleep, there was a nearby park that could probably suffice. I'd thought of this all off the top of my head, but even if I had given it some more deliberation, my options would have likely been the same. There really wasn't much I could do without money.
I still told myself that it was only going to be for one night, and that I would figure something out the next day. I had to.
"Are we working tomorrow?" I asked.
Lyra took a second to think. "Yes, but we won't be coming here and setting up the stall. There's no point in trying to sell our fried salmon if nobody will buy it. We'll focus solely on improving the recipe for now."
So that was why she wasn't putting in any effort. She knew that there were no potential customers in the first place. Perhaps she'd long since given up on her business and had begun to use it as a means to kill time, at least until she found me. I guess I was the one giving her hope.
"Where are we going to work instead of here?"
"Why, at home, of course." She was looking at me as if I already should've known the answer to my question.
"Home? Where's that?"
"Only about two blocks down from here. You're asking too many questions, though. Let's call it a day, why don't we?"
Two blocks down…? That's a bit vague.
I took my belongings (which was really just the jacket I'd taken off because it was too hot outside) and prepared to leave.
Oh well, future Adriel can handle that.
"Sounds good." I slightly raised my hand as a gesture of farewell. "See you tomorrow."
A brief lull ensued. Lyra didn't say goodbye back to me, so I hadn't yet moved. Something wasn't right.
"...You'll see me tomorrow? What are you talking about?"
"Huh? I'm leaving now, and I'll come back to work tomorrow. How can you not understand that?"
I was very confused.
"You really are a stupid little boy," Lyra remarked, grabbing my arm and pulling me along. "You're a homeless man. That means you have no place to stay. And that is why, in exchange for helping me with my fried salmon recipe, I am taking you in."
…What?
When was this ever discussed between us?
She never even implied that she would let me live with her. It felt so clear to me that I'd only be working for the woman and nothing more. And yet, out of all the things I could've received as compensation, she was…letting me stay in her home?
…Me? A random, ill-mannered, sketchy man she had just found on the streets?
"A-Are you serious?" I asked. "Why do you trust me so much?"
It was inconceivable. There had to be a catch. Maybe this whole thing was some sort of trap designed by secret enemies of mine who were out to get me. Surely there weren't people who would actually allow a potentially dangerous stranger into their home without a second thought.
For crying out loud, I didn't even trust myself that much.
"…I've seen a lot of people throughout the years."
Lyra stopped for a moment and turned around to face me. My suspicions began to wane.
"You remind me of one of them," she said. "It's not like I'd take in any random stranger. It's just because I wouldn't feel right leaving someone like you behind."
She then turned back around and continued walking.
Someone like me…
I knew she was telling the truth. Anyone would've been able to conclude as much if they'd seen what I had.
Now, who did I remind her of? And why did she feel the need to help me because I resembled that person?
Two very relevant questions.
I was and always had been an exceedingly nosy boy, but I still knew when not to pry. This was one of those times. It didn't seem like Lyra wanted to delve further into her past, so I was going to respect that. After all, she hadn't asked me anything about mine either.
With that, a plain silence had been allowed to come to life between us, as the night became real and the final traces of daylight were blown out by some celestial draft.
The silence was short-lived, however, for as soon as the old woman next to me spoke, it had immediately been broken and extinguished.
"I know you aren't much of a gentleman, but you should at least be nice to my grandchildren."
It caught me by surprise.
"You have grandchildren? How many?"
"I have three. Two girls and one boy. They've been living with me for a few years now."
Honestly, I should've expected as much. I don't know why I thought she lived alone.
"Is that so? Are they all grown up?"
"The oldest one, Erin, is twenty. She's such a good girl. The second oldest is Marius, and he's eight. Then there's Maya, who's five years old. They're all so cute."
She really loved to talk about them. How nice.
"Erin is almost my age. Do you think we'll get along?"
"What? I thought you were in your thirties."
Her tongue was sharp even when she was acting all doting. It stung a little, admittedly.
"No, you old hag! I'm twenty two. Twenty two!"
I said it twice so it could be ingrained into her deteriorating memory. Misinformation was the last thing anyone wanted.
"Oh, well in that case, maybe you'll be able to become friends with her. I doubt it, though."
"Why's that?"
"I don't know of any girls that are fond of homeless men."
I sighed. Maybe I was building a tolerance to insults like these. Probably not.
"I hope the two kids will like me, at least."
"It'll be fine. My grandchildren are all well-behaved, unlike a certain someone."
You're one to talk.
It only took a few more steps for us to reach a rather small house.
"We're here," said Lyra, going on to unlock the door.
I followed, with my heart beating unusually quickly. I was nervous, but it was hard to discern the reason as to why. It could've been that I still had doubts about Lyra's intentions, or that the idea of meeting her grandchildren made me uneasy, or that the regret I felt from my past mistakes was causing me to question whether or not I was currently making another.
What a waste of precious brainpower.
To hell with it.
There was no use in pondering over trivialities. The time to move forward had come, towards the door that had finally been opened for me.
Welcome home, Adriel.