The Piece of Him That I Lost

Chapter 9. His Wife

She took a step back and looked at me as if she hadn't expected to see me in here. I'm certain I seen her somewhere.  I smiled at her, but she didn't even glance at me. She was shocked, irritated, and afraid all at the same time.

"I-I uh, I'm sorry, I think I knocked on the wrong door," she apologized before turning around and walking away.

How is this even possible? She's here in this fucking front door; how can she tell me she knocked on the wrong door?

"Wait, hey, Miss!" I said, but she didn't even stop or glance at me.

Is she insane or what? My God, there are so many weird people out there these days. I have no choice but to walk back inside and savor the moment alone, wondering where I'm heading next. How am I supposed to inform Mom that I already know her secret?

"Hey, sweetie, did I keep you waiting for too long?"

When Dad returned from picking up some food, I turned around. I believe he purchased it at a well-known alley restaurant. Dad understands how much I enjoy home-cooked meals, as opposed to my mother, who prefers to serve me fast food.

"No, you came just right," I replied.

"Do you think you'd like to try this authentic foreign cuisine?"

"What exactly is it?"

"It's a Filipino dish, you might like it or you might not...just tell me and I'll buy another one!" he exclaimed.

"No, it's fine; I want to try something new," I explained.

My father grinned as he set the food on the table. I enjoy the aroma of the food he prepared for me. I believe it has a strong marinating sauce of garlic, pepper, and soy sauce. I guess I like this enticing aroma.

"What is it called?" I inquired.

"It's Chicken Adobo, and this is lumpia with glass noodles called Pancit," he explained.

I nod, as if I understood every name he says. But, to be honest, I don't care about their names because just smelling them makes me hungry. I receive a piece of chicken, two spring rolls or whatever they're called, and a bunch of glass noodles. When I tasted them in my mouth, I almost passed out. Oh my word, it was so delicious—how did I not know about all of these?

He said, "Your Mom called."

I immediately put down my fork and looked at him, indifferent. Why, after all, does he have to bring it up?

"She has no idea you're here," he explained. "I think you should go home after you eat, or she'll be here with the cops!"

I immediately scowled when I heard him say that; he appeared irritated when he told me that. They're probably having a tiny dispute while talking—this happens all the time when I'm included in their conversation.

"She wants you, sweetheart, or she'll break into my house with the cops."

"W-What?"

"She believes I kidnapped you."

"What's the matter with her?"

"I know, sweetheart, calm down, this is your decision; if you don't want to go home yet—fine, we'll figure it out."

"How am I supposed to calm down, Dad? She's going to break into your house with cops? Is she insane or something?"

Dad stroked my shoulder to calm me down; I know he's panicking now because he witnessed me screaming out. I set down my spoon and fork before answering the phone from an unknown caller.

"Hello?" I'm not sure what possessed me to answer such an unusual phone call.

(...hey.)

I assume it was merely an impulsive reaction to break the tension between me and my father's talk, but this voice, I heard for the first time but felt so familiar. "Who is this?" I asked of the person on the other line.