HE'S BACK
My place isn't far from Irin's, only two blocks away, but it's pretty far for me since the property on each block is large enough for a hundred kids to line up, and there is a street between the houses. I still—choose to walk there. Late-night walks are my favorite activity in this town; even though Vik ruined them, nature is still great. As they say, don't hate the earth; hate the humans. No one has said that, but I did. Well—it's true.
As I get inside the house, Irin runs to me and pulls me into the kitchen immediately. "You're not going to believe it," she says lightly.
"What?" I whisper. She drags me behind the wall.
"Letizia, darling. You came. I missed you so much," Mrs. Meride, Irin's mother, says and hugs me from behind. "And why are you in the kitchen? Take Zia into the dining room, honey," Mrs. Meride says to Irin, and she goes back to her oven.
I'm about to pick up a plate.
"It's okay, darling," Mrs. Meride says with a smile. "You just wait in the dining room and sit beautifully for dinner, hehe. I made your favorite as well."
"Thank you," I say and turn around to step into the hall.
I see a shadow on the floor inside the dining room. It must be Ivan. Suddenly, he steps backward, and I'm about to wave at him, but Ivan's body turns out to be someone else. I hold myself still and look at the man before me without blinking. The dark hair, silver eyes, and big, buff body in a black shirt and dark-brown pants. He also looks directly at me without blinking. Then Ivan steps in beside the man and turns toward me. He immediately runs to me, hugs me, and enthusiastically lifts me up, but my eyes are locked on the man behind him.
"You came!!" Ivan says and holds me up like I'm a baby. "I thought you'd go to the party," he says.
I don't respond because my brain stops functioning for a moment.
It's him, right?
Zygmunt.
He's back.
I'm about to burst something out of my body—shit, tears, screams—perhaps all of them. Chills run all the way down my spine, covering every pore of my body.
The man I have always been waiting for is finally here in front of my eyes. He has no idea that I have been longing for him for the past two years.
"Put her down!" Mrs. Meride scolds him, and Ivan puts me down and pats my head.
Irin holds my hand and leads me into the room. "See? You're not going to believe it," she says.
She takes me to my usual seat next to her, passing Zygmunt, who is staring at me without saying a word. Irin sits next to me on the right, near her mother, who sits at the head of the table.
Then Ivan hits Zygmunt on the shoulder. "Stop staring and sit," he says, sitting beside his mother. Zygmunt sits next to him, across from me.
"Dad's still at work?" Irin asks.
"Yes, he will be coming home late, but don't worry; I already have his dish in the kitchen," Mrs. Meride says with a smile while she scoops mashed potatoes onto her plate. She passes the bowl to Irin next.
"So why don't you go celebrate with your boyfriend?" Ivan asks.
"What? You have a boyfriend, darling?" Mrs. Meride looks shocked and makes a confused sound mixed with joy.
Then I glare at Ivan and raise my right eyebrow at him, and he chuckles.
"Umm—" Then I take the bowl from Irin and scoop the beautiful, yummy mashed potatoes onto my plate. I look at the man across from me. "It's a topic we're still discussing," I say as I offer him the bowl.
He stares at me and takes the bowl.
"A topic to discuss? He won the match!" Irin says.
"What's it about?" Ivan joins in.
"If he wins, she will be his girlfriend," Irin explains.
I raise my glass and drink without saying anything.
"Then why are you here, Zia? Don't tell me you denied him again," Ivan says with a smirk. "Or did something happen? Something happened, didn't it!?" Ivan raises his voice, but Zygmunt, who is looking at me without blinking, shifts his eyes toward Ivan, gives him the bowl, and shuts him up.
"So what the hell is going on?" Irin asks as Mrs. Meride waits for me to answer.
"I want to be here. That's it," I reply.
Everyone looks at me and pauses for quite a while.
"I'm glad, Zia," Mrs. Meride says with a sweet smile.
I smile at her, put the food in my mouth, and give Ivan a look. He stares at me like he knows something and wants me to spill it out. When no one is looking at me, I pull the spoon out of my mouth, slowly point it at him, and drag the tail of the spoon across my neck.
"Hehee," Ivan chuckles lightly, and I'm about to eat again when I notice that the man in front of me saw me doing that. I quickly hide my eyes and then look back at him; he's smirking.
"How about you, Zygmunt—" Mrs. Meride says, making everyone pause and look at him. I try my best not to make it too obvious that I'm interested in his answer. "Are you doing okay? Being back in town?" She asks as I raise my hand to take a hamburger.
Zygmunt uses his fork, takes the thick one, and puts it on my plate for me. "I'm doing okay, Mrs. Meride," he says in his fucking most resonant voice, which I haven't heard for two years. He looks at me and takes his fork back.
I look at him curiously. "Thank you," I say.
People watch us in confusion.
"The town hasn't changed much," he adds.
Mrs. Meride smiles. "Yes, I agree." She swallows her food. "The services, care for citizens, even the crimes. The way they run things is just—there are no upgrades."
"Also, the people here are the same," Zygmunt adds.
"Boring and nothing interesting at all, to be honest," Ivan says.
"That's why I can't wait to graduate and get out of here," Irin says.
Ivan is twenty-eight now. He could leave town and have his own career anywhere, but he chose to stay here, helping with his father's business and taking over another business in the town next to Apollon.
That means Zygmunt is also twenty-eight.
"But—it brings me nostalgia," Zygmunt says. I glance at him and see his eyes gazing at me.
They look at each other after his response.
"Well, you can still come here, like you always did. We can have dinner and breakfast together like in the old days. Our house is always open to you, Zygmunt," Mrs. Meride says.
"True." Ivan hits Zygmunt on the back.
Then Mrs. Meride turns to look at me. "You too, darling—always." She smiles.
"Thank you, Mrs. Meride." My smile isn't that enthusiastic, but I give it to her genuinely. I am very grateful.
Zygmunt and I are probably in the same shoes. His mother was gone; she passed away one year after he left. As for his father, I didn't know many of the details. All I knew was that his father died in the field, and that was why he had to leave this town and join the military. He has no one to come home to every evening, no one to see after he wakes up, and no one to say goodnight to before going to bed—just like me.
"I think—there's been a bit of change," I say.
"Hmm," Ivan makes a sound.
"People might be the same in this town, but I think they change—" I pause as everyone looks at me. "At least inside. They might not show it to you." I eat all of my mashed potatoes. "It's been two years," I add.
Zygmunt looks at me as I look at him, and I drink the water while everyone sits in silence, watching me curiously and with a bit of concern. Zygmunt scoops some mashed potatoes and puts them on my plate for me.
"Then it's great," he says and gives the bowl to Ivan, who takes it automatically.
"Changes help you grow," he adds with a tiny smile.
The silver of his irises almost blends with the whites of his eyes, piercing into mine, but I can see the outline—a tiny reflection of silver and a little gray. While I feel the rest of the table also blending away, blurring until it feels like only the two of us are sitting there, I can still feel the others' wondering gazes. They must be curious about how and why he and I are acting like this, and when and how we have ever had an interaction like this.
Then I eat whatever he has put on my plate. "What if it's bad?" I ask.
"Then you'll learn," he says.
"What if it's part of you?" I ask.
"Embrace it, then," he says, pouring gravy over the beautiful, fine piece of art. "Nothing is purely good or purely bad," he adds, taking the meatballs from his plate and putting them on mine. "It's human."
I look at him, waiting for something—an explanation or comfort.
Then I use a fork, stab it into the meatball, and bite it while looking at him.
Mrs. Meride, Ivan, and Irin must be losing their minds right now, watching us have our first real conversation in front of them. It's not a normal, general, everyday conversation, but it's unexpectedly deep, and only he and I can understand it.
"So, what's for dessert, Mum?" Irin asks her mother, breaking the awkward and intense air.
Zygmunt and I smile together as they try to help us feel at ease during dinner. But it isn't awkward or intense for me. I feel a bit of relief seeing him like this. He's also changed, not just his hair, which is cut short and pulled back like an old, classy man's, but his mouth too. He's not afraid to speak his mind with me.
"You're going to walk home again, darling?" Mrs. Meride asks.
"I'll walk you." Ivan is about to come toward me when Zygmunt gets up and walks past him without acknowledging him.
"I'll do it," he says.
Everyone stops what they're doing and looks at him. Irin slowly drags me closer to her.
"What's wrong with you and him?" She whispers.
"Umm—" Mrs. Meride hesitates to give permission, so she looks at me.
I smile at her. "Then I'll be leaving. Thank you again, Mrs. Meride, for dinner."
"Anytime, darling," she replies.
I wave at Ivan and say goodbye to Irin. "You'd better tell me afterward," she threatens me, making me laugh a little.
I glance at Zygmunt, who is being grabbed by Ivan while he whispers something to him. These Meride siblings are very similar to me—like brothers, like sisters.
Before we step out of the house, Ivan yells, "Take her home safe and sound, man—I fucking mean it."
"That's my job," Zygmunt says lightly.
I give him a quick look and leave the house.
We slowly walk toward my house. Zygmunt keeps an arm's-length distance between us—his arm's length, not mine. Our footsteps are loud enough to make me try to step more lightly. I don't know what he is trying to do here. Maybe it's just one of the nice things a man would do, but Ivan could walk me home like usual. Why did he step forward?
He keeps his pace the same as mine. I glance at him as he walks beside me with his hands in his pockets. I wonder how these past two years have treated him. I bet they weren't better than mine, probably worse. He had been missing from this world, and no one could find his body. I couldn't imagine what he had gone through.
And I also think he couldn't imagine what I had been through.
"So, you have a boyfriend?" Zygmunt asks his first question.
"You can say that," I say.
"Why don't you sound certain?" he asks.
"It's—" I say and then tilt my head. "A bit complicated."
I turn to look at him again. My eyes are out of control; they are just doing whatever they want with this man, constantly locking onto his face and body—the way he walks, the way the line of his smile starts to curl up, and the way his hair is set effortlessly. I don't even want to blink, as if he might disappear again.
"What?" he asks.
I shake my head. "I'm just thinking—are you real or not?" I say.
His eyes lock onto me. "Do you think I'm a ghost?" He asks.
I smile. "You're scared?" He asks.
I shake my head. "I've seen it—" I say as I look at him and turn my face forward. "Your ghost."
He pauses with his left leg as I walk ahead. I don't look back, but I can see him from the corner of my right eye, and he catches up with me.
His body is no longer an arm's length away.
"I'm sorry," he says lightly, but his voice is still deep enough to feel loud.
"I'm sorry too," I say.
"What are you sorry for?" He asks.
"I want to know the same thing," I say.
"I left you," he pauses, "without any explanation," he says.
"I don't want to say I understand because I wasn't you. I think you had your reasons." I pause my steps. "You didn't leave me; you left the town." I bite my lower lip. "And we weren't—that close, so how could you leave someone you weren't—"
He walks toward me. "You were—" he says, crossing the blurred line, "and you are. You're the reason I came back."
I look at him, yearning to know if it is real. Then I walk ahead instead of responding to something I'm unsure about.
He follows me and walks in the middle of the road.
"A car will hit you," I say.
"No one drives at this hour," he says, and it makes me think of someone in particular. Now I wonder where he is. Is he watching me right now? With another man? And is he going to do anything to Zygmunt?
"You never know," I say.
The long walk eventually ends when we arrive at my house, on the front porch, in front of the door.
"Thank you," I say as I look at him.
I admit that I have been looking at him nonstop. I've had my eyes on him the whole night. He stands not far from me. His height is pretty similar to that of the mysterious man; he is bulky and buff. If the two of them had a fight, I couldn't imagine who would win.
Zygmunt would never know how many times he has been in my head.
After all, he was my first love. I couldn't say it was love, but I felt something in my heart that I had never felt with anyone else.
Then I decide—to hug him before I lose the chance again.
I wrap my arms around his waist, close my eyes, and press my face against his chest. He stands still like a robot, but I can feel his chest pounding faster. Then he slowly touches my back and is about to hold me when I look up at him.
"I'm glad you're alive," I say.
My vision of him blurs, and tears drip down my cheeks.
He looks a bit stunned. He lifts his fingers and is about to wipe away my tears. I quickly pull my arms back, move away from him, and enter the passcode.
"Break up with him," he says.
What?
Click. Then the door opens. He steps closer behind me, and his shadow covers my entire body and half of the door.
"What did you say?" I turn my face and look up.
"Break up with him," he repeats.
I can't believe what I'm hearing. "And then what?" I ask.
"Be with me," he says.
Is he serious, or is he just playing with me?
"Ah, that's—" I stutter.
"I'm serious," he says.
His eyes, his face, and those lips. There is no reason for me to believe him.
"Goodbye, Zygmunt," I say, and I'm about to close the door.
His silver eyes strike through the gap in the door.
"Lock the door," he says.