Frustration and disappointment churn within me. I don’t remember what happened at the wedding after I talked with Eura. I feel like a bad brother. All I remembered was crying and trying to ease my sorrows with food—the food was good. Am I going to be like this when I attend another wedding?

One day has already passed since Eura’s marriage. I think she had told me that she was going to spend her honeymoon in Costa Rica or somewhere in the Caribbean. It must be nice to be able to go on a vacation. While I like the idea of going on vacation, the fact that I would  have to communicate with people scares me. Just leaving the apartment is enough of a vacation for me; going to Eura’s wedding was one.

I remember how pretty Eura looked in her wedding dress. I kind of want to draw that. Wedding dresses are so interesting. They’re long, flowing and as white as snow. I heard that women look their most beautiful in one. Eura looked pretty that day, but she was still just Eura to me; I’m sure she was extremely beautiful in my brother-in-law’s eyes.

I’m imagining a woman in that same dress, but I cannot picture what sort of face she should have. Although I drew a lot of women in my drawings, they were mainly based on those I’ve seen in television and animated shows—entertainers that give people a visual image of their artistic portrayals. I’ve never really conceptualized my ideal image of a woman’s face. Come to think of it, have I even looked at a woman’s face properly? Have I even looked at the face of someone I don’t know properly?

I feel my phone vibrating. It’s a message from Jay. Apparently, Mom has bought several boxes of fruit and he brought them as the delivery man; she bought too much, so he needs help unloading them. I can feel a bit excited. I like it when Jay comes over. I also really like fruit. The fact that Mom bought boxes of fruit does mean that she’s trying to change genuinely; I wonder what sort of fruit she bought for me.

I put on my coat and slippers and left the house. Normally, I use the stairs to travel back and forth, but today, I will be using the elevator, which is on the opposite side of the apartment floor. If there are many boxes, it’s best to be convenient when handling them. The elevator leads down to the basement floor, where the parking area is. Riding an elevator after so long is an anxious feeling. Standing still and letting the mechanism take me down makes me feel like I am falling despite my feet being intact.

Ding! The elevator door opens. I take careful steps until my feet feels the solid surface. This is how the ground should be. I see Jay’s car from a short distance; it helps that the lights were on in the parking area—it was night. He drives a nice car. I scurry towards him, anticipating the fruits.

“Eugene, look at all the fruit your mom bought for you.”

I see boxes of tangerines, Asian pears, Korean melons, strawberries, and mangoes. I get excited because these are the fruits I enjoy eating the most. The only bad thing about my mom’s gift is that she bought two boxes of each. I feel bad for making her spend all that money just to buy fruits. Jay and I carry the bigger  boxes first. He carries two boxes of Asian pears while I carry the boxes of Korean melons.

We make our first trip to my apartment and then proceed to do our second. As the elevator opens at the basement level the second time, Jay and I notice two people arguing at a distance; they were away from Jay’s car, which means we did not have to listen into their conversation.

As we approach the car, I notice that one of the arguing people is Wendy. She was pointing a finger at a Caucasian man and looked angry; seeing that face reminded me of my first encounter with her. I look away; if she’s mad, it’s her problem. I shouldn’t get involved.

“Isn’t that your neighbor?” Jay asks in curiosity.

“I guess.” I stack one box of strawberries on top of the tangerine box and scoop up both.

My body freezes when I hear the echoes of a loud smacking noise; I put the boxes down as thoughts surge into me. I feel fear welling up within me as I slowly turn around to see Wendy caressing her cheek. She then retaliates by kicking the man’s leg and trying to scurry off before the man grabs her by the hair.

“Let go!”

How do I confront this situation? I have no muscles and I cannot win a fight to save my life. Jay rolls up his sleeves and then rushes towards them. I can only stand and witness Jay becoming a gallant knight and rescue the damsel in distress.

Jay grabs the man’s arm and pulls his grip from Wendy’s hair. She falls onto her knees. She then looks up; our eyes lock onto each other. She stands up and then rushes towards me. She grabs my shoulders. “Take me away from here!” She pleads.

The expression she has right now reminds me of a sad kitten; it shakes me up. I need to do something. I grab her right wrist and we rush towards the elevator, ignoring the shouts of the man behind us.

When the elevator door closes, Wendy leans back against the wall after pressing the button to our floor. She takes a deep breath and then apologizes. “Sorry about what happened. I didn’t know he’d be so violent.” She chuckles; I find that odd given what just happened. How could she just laugh it off like that?

“Was…that your boyfriend?”

“Sort of? We were dating, but we were using each other for selfish purposes. Well, the argument we had just now was me trying to break up with him now that I didn’t need him anymore.”

I have so many questions I want to ask her, but I know it’s best to not overstep my boundaries. I know little about this girl; I cannot get nosy now.

The elevator opens. Wendy rushes out to her door, unlocks her door, grabs her dog and then rushes back to me—I just got out of the elevator. “Can I crash at your place tonight?”

What did she just say? “Could you repeat that?”

“Can I crash at your place tonight? I’m worried that Dave might try to come to my apartment later on.”

“No!” There is no way I am letting anyone into my house, especially her.

“Pretty please!” Why is she talking like a child?

“No.”

“Come on! I’m sure Gustav will be thrilled to spend some time with you! I know you like him.” She lifts Gustav in front of her face so that he is about eye-level with me. What a dirty tactic she is using; she knows I like dogs—hers especially—and she is baiting me with it. It’s like she’s a hunter and I’m her prey.

I look into Gustav’s shiny black eyes. I start feeling weak. He’s too cute! If Gustav comes into my house, that means I can pet him and befriend him. I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. I want to be his friend.

In the softest voice I can utter out, I whisper, “Fine.”

I hate the fact that her plan worked.