Easing Heimweh (Heim, #1) ✓

3: Home, Maybe

I wasn't sure how long I'd been walking, or what time it was.

But I passed by the same closed boutique shop four times now. The sun had completely gone down, and the road was starting to look annoyingly repetitive. I kept returning to the same street.

So I decided it was best to take a different route—one I should've tried out earlier. There was another alleyway at the end of the street that'd have me take a sharp left turn. It was a little narrower than the rest of this empty road, but a few lights were still on, so I concluded it was safe to go there. I didn't have a lot of options anyway. I had to try. For all I knew, it might lead me back to the hotel.

I was wrong.

But I couldn't be mad about it either.

The trail was wider when I reached the end. At first I expected to come out on one of the main roads so I could hail a jeepney and be dropped off near Myriad, but to my surprise, I found myself standing in front of a café.

"Oasis," I read its name as the lights encased in the small square logo flickered.

I caught sight of two employees both wearing headphones, cleaning the counter and windows in silence. The warm, ambient light shone upon several empty tables who begged to be occupied by wandering customers. I almost laughed at the thought. If those objects weren't inanimate, would they want me to go inside?

Should I?

Located just beside the café was another road. It might finally take me back to Myriad—somewhere certain. Somewhere familiar.

But this empty place pulled me in. Was my tiredness the one to blame? I really wanted to rest my feet after walking for so long. I was a little thirsty as well. Was it only my fatigue that gave me these thoughts?

I knew I wasn't dramatic. Growing up with two younger siblings to raise and two strict parents to please, I wasn't one to express my feelings much. Maybe because I rarely watched telenovelas, and when I did, it was merely out of courtesy as I joined my mom while she entertained guests. I couldn't be poetic, either; Elton tried sharing his love for poetry to me, but I never really resonated well with flowery words and catchy lines.

Yet I felt this way here.

I wanted to welcome the unfamiliar this time. Maybe if I'd accept it with open arms, I wouldn't be lost again.

Maybe I was the wandering customer.

"Welcome to Oasis!" One of the employees greeted me as I opened the glass door. She held a round tray, her hair tied to a bun. She removed her headphones so it rested on her shoulder and jogged toward the man on the counter who hadn't noticed my presence yet. He also wore headphones and, though I wasn't too sure because he stood directly behind a coffee machine, was watching something from his phone. The light from the screen illuminated his bored face.

"Kuya Miguel, we have a customer," the waitress whispered against his ear after she snatched his headphones. "Focus."

"Really?" Miguel, who I assumed was the barista, looked at me, and his eyes lit up. "Hi, Ma'am! What would you like to have?"

"Something good enough for dinner," I said.

"Well, we only have coffee and pastries here. Is that okay with you?"

I sat near one of the glass windows overlooking the road from earlier. "Sure."

The churros and affogato were what I first read on the menu, so I ended up ordering those. I had no phone with me, so I just sat there and watched Miguel make my coffee. He talked to someone in the kitchen to cook the churros minutes ago. Harmony—which I learned was the waitress' name a while ago—had gone back to wiping the rest of the windows.

She probably only cleaned because there wasn't much to do. Oasis wasn't a big place, but it wasn't small either. However, the lack of customers made the space look clean and neat with little effort from the staff. I counted ten tables, including the one I was occupying, and there was more space for four people by the counter for quick coffee breaks. The kitchen was far back, and it was the only space without floor-to-ceiling windows.

To my right was an exposed brick wall with a bookshelf filled only halfway with colorful bound fictions. Beside that was a long rectangle cork board with the words freedom wall pinned on the uppermost part. The board was empty. The beige and blue papers and ballpoint pens kept in a glass box on the bookshelf waited patiently to be used.

Oasis was probably newly opened, or it might be that the location wasn't ideal. I hoped that wasn't the case. I started to like it here. There was no doubt others would, too.

I stood up and went to the board, then opened the glass box without thinking. I took one of the beige papers and a pen and began writing.

Where to?

I thought nothing of those harmless words after pinning the note securely. I was also aware that I was the only one who put something in there, but who would care? I was free to do what I want.

My order arrived sooner than expected. I took off the mask I was wearing and ate everything in a rush, fearing that they would see my face, and the ice cream barely melted from the coffee when I finished drinking. The hot and bitter taste burnt my tongue, but I didn't mind. I spared the barista a glance and caught him staring at me dumbfounded. I quickly turned away.

Did he recognize me?

"Ma'am—"

"Thanks for the food," I cut off while putting my mask back on, then proceeded to run toward the exit. "Goodbye."

"No, Ma'am, you didn't get your change!"

"Keep it." And I was off.

Somehow finding Myriad beyond that last road I saw could be a miracle in itself. I'd managed to find my way back to safety and familiarity without a scratch. I almost skipped the exchange of pleasantries with the staff who greeted me by the entrance as my head was hardwired for nothing but the comfortable bed in my suite.

I passed out almost immediately, venturing into a dreamless sleep, leading to a missed alarm the next morning. But it was fine; I'd take the void over any nightmare.

It wasn't that the hotel offered food that I disliked, but I thought of heading straight to Oasis. It was also a valid excuse to try and memorize the area's twists and turns so I wouldn't be dumb enough to commit the same mistakes from last night.

The café was still empty when I got there, but neither the barista or waitress seemed to mind.

"Hi, Ma'am!" they greeted at the same time, with the same amount of enthusiasm.

"Hi. Do you have something good enough for breakfast?" I took a good look at the menu this time. "I'll have the blueberry waffles and iced americano."

"Sure! Make yourself comfortable while you wait," Miguel said as he started putting coffee beans in the espresso machine. "You can read books or write on the free...oh."

I followed where his eyes were and saw the note I pinned on the board yesterday. "Thought I should try it out," I said, my voice growing smaller as I talked.

"That's good, honestly! It's about time the freedom wall plays its role as a freedom wall and not a boring section that looks out of place."

Though a mask covered the lower half of my face, I managed a smile. "Yeah."

I got closer to the board, eager to fill another note with a new thought, when my steps halted as fast as I finished last night's dinner.

Because there wasn't one, but two notes on the freedom wall now.

And two words, messily written in pastel blue paper, were pinned directly to mine.

Home, maybe.