I was on my phone, searching for Amelia Ortiz, but there were no results. There were a few articles about Cornelia's Café, but nothing about Cornelia per se. Disappointed, I just kept my phone and waited for Mickey at the bar. It was already half past three in the afternoon.
When she arrived not long after, she rushed to me as soon as she saw me waiting near the entrance. "Am I too late?" she asked, her breathing fast from running.
I shook my head. "No, it's okay."
I tapped the seat beside me. Mickey removed her crossbody bag and said hi to the old bartender before sitting down and then ordering light beer for the both of us. The drink came just seconds after she ordered.
"Will you not ask me about what happened a while ago?"
She opened the bottles and gave me one. I looked at the bottle of beer she handed, thinking how I would immediately decline any invitation to drink any kind of alcohol just some months ago because of my fear to see and feel death through the hourglasses that would show over people's heads. If I still had that power right now, I might use it with Mickey to see if she would stay in my life.
Mickey answered my question, but no word registered in my brain. I was just looking at her, remembering how the grains in her hourglass remained at the top bulb. She was still a mystery. An exception. But now I wouldn't know why.
"Hey, you okay?"
"Sorry," I said before taking a gulp from the bottle. "What was that again?"
"You were spaced-out." Mickey then leaned on her seat, her head drooping on the right. "You care for her so much. I want to get to know her and check why," she added. There was no hint of jealousy in her voice, but curiosity and wonder.
"Amielle is like a sister to me. And I don't know how to say this but . . . she reminds me of my father. She also had the same curls and downturned eyes like Dad." And she is the gate to where my father could be. "You know how I suspect her aunt as her abuser."
Mickey nodded. "Yeah, I remember a time I checked their café and saw a strange number of CCTVs in and out. The cinema date, remember?"
"Ah, yes. We were supposed to dine in there."
"That's why I can't tell her aunt that you were there during the incident, right?"
Was it enough to say that her vibes were off? Was it enough to say that it felt like her aunt wanted me gone? Of course not. But I believed Amielle wanted me to stay out of her situation.
I agreed and traced the mouth of the bottle with my finger. From an empty and mad human being, now I was someone who had a lot of things on her plate—or maybe I forced these things onto me after knowing I had limitations. Death, so to speak.
We were silent for a while. It was Mickey who spoke first. "What are you going to do now?"
I sighed. "I just want to make sure Amielle's safe before I die. If that Cornelia—"
"Hey," Mickey interrupted, her brows furrowed. "Don't say those things."
I smiled. If she only knew. But I would rather not have that conversation. There were so many things going on in my head, but the most prevailing was my issue with Amielle and her aunt Cornelia.
"I mean, I don't want this lifetime to pass without making sure my friends are safe. Maybe I'm overthinking this, but I feel that Ms. Cornelia hated me. She wanted me out of her sight. She wanted me gone."
"Those are heavy accusations."
"I know. I may be wrong—and I hope I am—but I've never had these strong feelings in my gut ever. Something tells me that there's something wrong with that aunt of hers."
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181 Days of Madeline Jesty
General FictionMadeline Jesty Jacobs received an unexpected gift on the night of her seventh birthday -- she could see hourglasses on top of everybody's heads in just one taste of alcohol, an indication of what she thought was their life span. This unknown phenome...