Winston’s life was alright.
He had a couple of friends, he had ranked 11st in his entire grade for his annual exams, his parents weren’t fighting anymore and the visits to the library were peaceful. Since summer had begun, he was planning to spend most of his time there.
“You should be back before your dad comes,” his mother called aloud right before Winston exited the house. Humming to himself, he descended the stairs without a thought in his mind. Outside, the howling wind blew umbrellas away, with torn posters plastered on the windshields of cars. A helicopter whirred loudly above their apartment and as he climbed down to the first floor, he could hear the neighbors’ blaring music, most probably due to the celebration of their results.
As he reached the last staircase, he was thinking about how weird newly painted walls’ smell was when he saw a girl sitting against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. With her back faced towards him, he could only make out the wrinkled half-sleeved pink shirt and straight brown hair with a neat bow-clip at the back. Maybe she doesn’t feel cold, he envied, shivering. He walked past her, not letting her take any space in his mind.
The sun had set once he was done reading in the library, which meant that he had to run to his apartment before his dad arrived. Thanks to the wind, the sweat felt cool on his skin as he ran with heavy jackets and a hanging scarf stained in dirt because he didn’t bother to pick it up. He reached his apartment only to find the girl still sitting at the bottom of the staircase, in the same position hugging her dark blue flannel pants.
He could clearly see her face now: round, pale skin, dry lips and small eyelashes. Her chin rested on her chins and her hair strands covered the corners of her drooping eyelids, resulting in a more unreadable expression as she stared forward. She looked about his age, but he had never seen her around the neighborhood or school.
Days passed. Every now and then he’d go outside the apartment to hang out with his friends or read at the library and he’d always see right there at the same spot, hugging her knees, in the same outfit. The wrinkled shirt had more wrinkles than before, and her bow clip had fallen on a step but her posture remained the same. There were days where he could feel the gaze of hers following his back as he exited the apartment. Other days, he would accidentally make eye contact when he entered. Soon, she became the talk of his entire floor; all the middle-aged women gathered and expressed their worry to each other, but no one spoke to that girl. At least, he never saw anyone.
One day, curiousity got the best of him. He took a blanket and went downstairs to meet with the girl. As much as he didn’t want to bother her, he also wanted to know a few answers.
“Excuse me…” he murmured, startling the girl. “Oh sorry-! I just wanted to ask: aren’t you feeling cold? You can have this blanket…”
His voice rose up in the end as if he was uncertain himself and the girl’s unsettling gaze did not ease his nerves. She stared at the blanket for a solid minute before nodding and letting him wrap the pink blanket around her.
He stood there on the staircase, awkwardly, suddenly forgetting what he had come for. “Um, may I sit down?”
She frowned at him in confusion but nodded.
It was around eleven, he knew, because he was past his curfew. Outside the closed entrance of his apartment, he could see the moon slowly disappearing behind the thick purplish clouds which had blanketed the sky. Filled parking spots, a random scooter in the distance…what could possibly interest her in this view?
He asked her, to which she gazed at him wistfully. “I,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, “am not here for this ‘view’. It’s safer outside than my house.”
“Um, may I ask why?”
She clutched the ends of the blanket tightly, as if she had a fear he might snatch it away. “Promise me you won’t do anything. And not tell a single soul.”
“Why not? If you’re in trouble-”
“Please.”
A pause. “Fine, then.”
She took a deep breath. “I threw a beer bottle at my dad.”
Near the parking lots, the sounds of two cats fighting echoed through the entire ground floor.
She blinked back at his blank expression. “Well? No reaction?”
“Just…I need more context.”
Her laugh drowned the cats’ noises, and she explained within two minutes, because he kept reminding her that he had a curfew.
Apparently, she lived with her divorced father in this apartment for a long time. The reason why Winston never met her was because she spent all her time being homeschooled by her dad before she hit senior grade and he got into alcoholism. She had to transfer to Winston’s school late, and always rushed back home after school to take of her father and study and maintain an online job for income. On one of her important exams, her father fell seriously ill, so she had to take him to the hospital and stay there with him, which caused her to miss the exam.
“Failing or missing an exam wouldn’t be a big deal,” she went on, her grip on the blankets loosening. “But I was really disheartened. So right after the annual exams ended and he ordered me to sneak in a bottle of beer through the hospital, I told him about my feelings. Then…well, that answers your question as to why I hit him. He struck first.”
Winston had just noticed that his palms were sweaty despite the gusts of wind and his heart feeling heavy. Hearing all this made him uncomfortable. He wanted to do something but at the same time he felt like there was a line he wasn’t allowed to cross.
“I…” Her voice interrupted his thoughts. “I can’t really remember how my dad was before. Must’ve been caring, I guess. Anyway,” – she smiled at him, her glistening eyes meeting Winston’s- “thanks for everything.”
“How long have you been staying here?” How much longer would you continue to stay here?
“I think a week? My father locked me out, but I do have enough money in my purse,” she said, leaning back to reveal a small red clutch between her stomach and legs, “to last me another week. For bathroom, I just head to the public bathrooms in those parks. I don’t have a phone. But mostly I stay here in case of the apartment- owner has a change of heart and gives me the spare keys. Useless, I know. But I’m too tired to think of anything-”
“Winston?” a voice called out.
Winston and the girl looked up to see Officer Kenan, standing right in front of them, waiting to go up the stairs. Winston’s face paled as he greeted his father and noticed that the girl tightened her grip on the blanket. Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind.
Signaling his dad to wait, he whispered to the girl, “Hey. You know you can tell your problems to my dad, right? He’s a good police officer- he will most certainly help you out. You can trust him! If he doesn’t help, you can rob me. And keep the blanket.”
Without waiting for her response, he dashed up the staircases, leaving his father calling out his name out of confusion. He slept without a worry that day, because he knew his father wouldn’t let any suspicious activity slide.
To his surprise, he slept through the entire morning. As soon as he freshened up, he sped out, accidently kicking a parcel on his doorstep, and downstairs only to find that the girl was missing. Oh, he thought as he climbed back the stairs. There was a strange emptiness in his stomach, the same way he felt whenever he didn’t do good enough in an exam due to a lack of preparation. Unsettlement and hunger. Both feelings which he hated.
When he reached his apartment room, he noticed the fallen parcel. It was badly packaged with a pink sticky note on it with extremely small handwriting. The note read:
Dear Winston,
Your father helped a lot, surprisingly. Contacted my mom, did something with my dad which he won’t tell me, and then made the necessary arrangements for me to stay with her. I’m currently in your father’s office as I write this, and I hope this’ll reach you anytime soon. Thank you for everything. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. In this package, you’ll find your blanket, candy from the police station because I don’t have anything to gift you right now, and my number. Let’s keep in contact once I’m settled.
Again, thank you. I wanted to say more but I have no space.
Til next time, Eleanor Olwen.
Oh, Winston thought, once his knees began to ache, I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
preprocess