Day Fifteen. Tuesday.
The City.
It was two weeks ago, last Thursday, since I've been back in the city. It smells awful. Worse than when I left. I can't help but feel that it's not the city though.
I arrived late last night, past eleven. Traffic on the highway, wrong turn at the wrong street -- I don't normally drive in the city. I use public transit. But that was not an option for what I need, since I'll be packing the car with stuff -- clothing mostly, but a few odd items as well. I turned in to my apartment and all was quiet.
I didn't miss the place, to be honest. My childhood bed is so much warmer, and Castillo itself resonates of happiness. This place is drab. Of course, I can't help but think that my Castillo-colored glasses are affecting my whole perception of the place. But I suppose I have to live with it.
I set the alarm for six in the morning. Shower, get dressed, e-mail. Did about an hour of graphic design work -- a project I couldn't finish yesterday. Then, I get out to my local breakfast restaurant, quite literally across the street from my apartment. I eat there -- or used to -- at least once a week, mostly on weekends.
I'm not quite myself at first. I sit down at my booth. The waiter comes along, acknowledges me, takes my order, walks away. I peruse the local news like I used to before the recent changes. Nothing to report. Everything is drab there too.
It's only when I first look up that something obvious hits me.
No one's looking at me. At all.
I see the other patrons in their booths, a few at the counter, the waitress behind it, the other waiter shuffling back-and-forth. Men and women. All of them completely ignoring me. Not a glance.
The sensation is surreal, and I almost get a panic attack -- but I close my eyes, grabbing my glass of water, taking a small then a long sip, and reason myself.
I'm normal here, apparently.
It seems unbelievable after the last two weeks. I no longer draw all eyes on me -- no one seems beholden to my will, as if waiting for me to call them out. And no puppy eyes of love cast upon me at all times.
I feel so small.
The curious part of my brain forces me to investigate so I raise my hand to draw attention to my booth. The waiter sees me -- so does the waitress -- but neither of them rushes to my seat to answer my need. I do get what seems to be a traditional nod from the waitress, letting me know she'll send the other guy over. But that's it.
I'm nothing here.
Is that why, despite having this power, my father never left Castillo? With a power such as this, you could theoretically travel the globe. But wait, that's wrong. He traveled around the city, up to 100 kilometers away to the nearest down where Dolores and Irina live. So maybe there's a geographical limit further? The idea never occurred to me before, and it seems obvious why. My comfort was in Castillo and its people, so I had no reason to leave. I only came back to get my affairs in order so I could go back - forever.
The waiter finally comes around, and I decide I need another validation.
- Uh... this water isn't cold, I tell him. I'd like another.
- Seriously?
The sneer he offers me is priceless but troubling; I cringe back into my seat.
- Uh... never mind, I tell him.
- Your food will be out shortly.
It's a face full of judgement directed at me, something I haven't seen in a while. I didn't miss it, in all fairness, but at least now I know. I gave him a direct order -- or request -- and he laughed it off. He made me feel like I should -- ridiculed.
I realize after a moment of processing that this changes my entire outlook for the day; the revelation leaves me silent and anxious for a long while.
I get my meal and eat without thinking, tracking my plans as I see them unravel before me. I can't get my landlord to break my lease. I can't get Dolores' sons to talk to her. And whatever else might come up in this horrible day.
I pay my bill and walk out into the street, completely distraught. Having relied on this power for the last two weeks to get anything I want, I'm left without any resilience to cope with the sudden stress. I walk to a bench on the side street and sit down, staring into the empty.
I don't even realize when an old man sits beside me.
- You ok, son?
- I... no. No, I'm not.
I turn to look at him -- sixties, grey hair, a wise face. He gives me a smile.
- Don't know what's got you confused son, but you got a good head on your shoulders. You'll be fine.
How can I explain to him the process I'm going through? Is it even understandable at this point?
- It's unreal, I tell him.
- Life? Sure it is. But you gotta take what you got.
He introduces himself as Larry. I give him my name.
- Grant, whatever it is that got to you, you've got this.
- This won't make sense to you, but I've lost something precious to me. Something I don't think I can live without anymore.
- Not a girl?
I have a frightening thought: what if leaving Castillo actually cut my power short? What if I never regain it? Obviously, Larry sees the fright in my eyes. He catches my attention with a sharp 'hey'.
- Now listen here. I don't care what it is. You don't give up.
- I can't do this without...
- You don't call yourself a man and give up. Hear me. Lost my first wife to cancer but did I stop? No. Married another. Lost my first job to a moron. Got a better job. There ain't no battles you can't win if you fight hard enough.
I'm trying to listen to him but the fear isn't letting me go. I rise.
- I'm sorry, sir, I just can't.
As I start to walk away, he calls me out.
- Whatever you think you lost, young man, it's still in you. You just gotta fight for it more. That's the true test of a man!
I'm far enough away on the street that I don't hear him anymore, but I just turn a corner and lean against the building, panting -- breathing itself has become arduous.
- This is nuts! I tell myself.