The stag hunt with the scarlet heart

Chapter 2 "A Tower of Boxes"

CALLUM

I'm not a permanent person in anyone's life, I usually find myself where the crowds are sparse, the sky blue and the wind-free, I continue to show who I am, but most turn their eyes away, but as always I find myself in the midst of the forgotten; the forsaken.

I'm not a permanent person in anyone's life, but I assure you that whoever seeks my presence, usually finds me in the company of the invisible.

I'm not a permanent person in anyone's life, but I can assure you one thing, right now I'm not the best temporary person you'll ever meet. Leaving is hard, you know? But staying is even harder. Even though you hold out some hope that the feeling will change. Starting over is often frightening, but it usually takes more than just courage.

I live in a fucking tower of boxes, and that's what my life has become.

My apartment with large windows is now covered by boxes. Boxes full of things, full of my life. Seeing everything in this condition makes me despair, I have to get out and get some air. I take my camera, my raincoat, and my keys. I check the time and still have time to go to my father's publishing house.

I go out and take the stairs, the exercise will do me good to clear my mind. Leaving the building I walk through the streets and absorb the overwhelming sound of the city, people shouting, cars honking people walking from one side to the other, this always overwhelms me, but now I have to be here, help my father so he can be with my mother.

My mother. I avoid thoughts of her. It makes me want to punch things.

Walking and passing about five crowded coffee shops. Finally, I find a small café several blocks from my building, I enter it and the smells hit my nostrils, but the peace of the place is what makes me approach a table. I sit down and grab my camera, making a few adjustments to the sensor and stabilizer.

I start taking pictures of a woman crossing the street with her dog. A mother with her daughter in her arms. A homeless man talking to himself, yet this doesn't relax me. It doesn't take the tension out of my shoulders, not completely. I try, relaxing my shoulders and settling in, resting one elbow on the table and the other on the lens, calibrating the focal length.

"Good morning, welcome to the café 'Amelia's Dream'." A woman in her fifties asks me in an apron, making me look away from the viewfinder of my camera. "What would you like to drink? Today we have pumpkin pie as our specialty, which is not for nothing, but it is to die for."

I ask for what she offers, honestly, I don't mind at all, but caffeine sounds as good as alcohol, so I opt for the healthier one.

I listen as the lady walks away. I try to concentrate on my photos and forget about everything going on in my life at the moment. Concentrating on the world, I see through a lens that feels both worn and rusty.

The lady with the badge that says Amelia returns with a smile on her face and a look that tells me she's as full of wisdom as much as advice, and for someone like me, someone who's lived everything I've lived and known everything I've known, that's interesting and striking, to say the least.

"You know, my husband had a favorite saying, would you like to hear it?" she asks, setting the coffee down on my table.

"Of course, why not?" I sound as interested as I feel and put the camera down, forgotten.

She looks as interested as me, why? I don't know, but who cares, wisdom doesn't usually come with smiles and a cup of coffee.

So, I take what's in front of me and accept it.

"If something doesn't feel right, just have some cake." And there she puts the piece of cake on the table that she offered me earlier.

I want to laugh, but I look at her very earnestly, almost too resolutely.

"I see... does it work?"

"Always."

She gets up and walks away, and I can't help but compare her to my mother, what I would give for her to be well and for that damned cancer not to come back after all these years, considering I haven't been around I can't help but feel guilty, so I do as she says and take a bite of the cake, the sweetness mixed with the pumpkin makes me relax a little, maybe she is full of wisdom after all.

However, I can't get the fact that my mother might die out of my mind, and I start searching for information about pancreatic cancer, getting desperate for all the information, I drop my phone, and it bangs against the table, at the same time it starts ringing.

"Cal, I..." Anastasia, her voice has always had this sweet timbre, only now I'm not in the mood. "You hadn't called me, and I tried my luck."

"I have some business to take care of." I think of something to hang up. "I'm up to my eyeballs in work."

"Oh, honey, I thought you don't start for another couple of days." Her voice gave me a pang in my skull. "If you want, we can meet tonight, and I can help you relax."

"Look, I don't have time, I'll call you when I can see you, see you later." Normally I wouldn't turn down his proposal, I never do when I come to Chicago, but I'm not in the mood.

I pick up my camera and pay the bill. I leave the café answering a message from my sister to meet tonight at my parent's house and start walking straight to my apartment. A few blocks away, I notice a girl. I don't know what it is, but something about her screams for you to look at her.

She is engrossed in looking at shelves of books, as she walks closer to the bike path, I run towards her to push her away just as a bicyclist is going at full speed, she bumps into my chest, her hair partially hits my face, she gives off a floral scent, I see her raise her hand as if to hit me when the most expressive brown eyes I have ever seen hit mine it is as if her world stops, and she begins to tremble.

I tear my beard, unnerved by her gaze. She jumps out of my arms and runs off, taking some flowers with her, almost pushing an old woman, she passes the homeless man I took pictures of earlier, and gets lost in the crowd.

I reach my apartment with her smell in my mind, feeling the electricity all over my body. Trying to understand why I run away like that. If I had met her before, I definitely wouldn't forget her. My phone lights up, showing me a message from my father and making me forget the girl for a moment.

Dad: We are waiting for you. Don't be late, Champ.

Callum: I'll be there, Captain.

I walk to my room and start arranging my cameras and hanging pictures. I search through the boxes for my wolf necklace. When I finally get it, I managed to sort through two boxes of books and arrange all my cameras.

I take a quick shower. As I finish putting on my shirt. I hear the doorbell ring and run barefoot trying to trip over boxes. At the door is my father's assistant, she smiles when she sees me. I smile at her, trying to remember her name.

"Hi, your dad sent me to help you with whatever you need." She says quickly to my chest.

"Come in and excuse the mess." She nods before I finish speaking. She enters the apartment, looking everywhere.

She looks around the room expectantly, avoiding my gaze, and since we're going to be working together, the last thing I want is for her to feel uncomfortable around me.

"Don't be afraid, I look normal, but believe me, I talk to animals and wait for them to respond."

I get a genuine laugh out of her, and then she begins to fart about all the things my sister has thought of to turn this place into something worthy of being featured in Architectural Digest.

"I have to go to a meeting with my father, see you later," I answer, walking to the room to get my shoes, doing her and myself the favor of getting out of her way.

I get out of my tower of boxes.

Still remembering the piercing brown eyes. Praying to meet her again.