FAR FROM ERIS • FreenBecky •

TWENTY - ONE

Her clothes smelled like her. They smelled like Becky, and Freen was trying to suppress the urge to scream as she attempted to regain her composure at the bookstore's door. If she entered that state, Irin would realize that something was going on, and she didn't know where to start to explain it.

Becky and she had said goodbye a few minutes ago. Freen had to go to work, and Becky, even though she could have spent the afternoon sitting on that brown patched leather couch just watching Freen arrange books, decided that she had already acted more than enough like a stalker that day.

-I understand that you don't feel like working, but if that's the case, just call and say you're sick. Once you're here, there's no escape,- Freen said, turning around to find the guy.

-Wow, are you my friend Heng? Or should I say  "Mister Stranger" named Heng?- Freen joked.

-A mister? Am I your father now?- he laughed.

-No, you're present in my life,- Freen retorted.

-Ouch, self-flagellation humor,- he said, grimacing in mock pain. -I missed that-

-Can you tell me where you've been hiding? I haven't seen you in days. Of course, now that Nam is gone, you're not interested in knowing about me,- Freen pretended to be hurt.

-Clearly I am, that's the reason. In fact, I ran away with her, and we've spent two days of torrid love,- he said dramatically, flipping his dark hair back. He sighed. -Anyway. I wish.-

-That's what I'm saying, how I wish,- Freen agreed.

-On top of covering for you,- Heng continued.

-For me?-

-Yes, miss 'I'm disconnected from the universe doing who knows what',- Freen blushed slightly and prayed that Heng wouldn't notice. -I've been helping Irin with the registrations for the art festival.-

-Oh damn. The darn art festival. I'm very distracted,- Freen sighed.

-We've noticed, yes.-

-I'm sorry, Heng.-

-It's okay. I just hope you're available to go pick up the materials.-

-Really? Do we have to go get them again? I can't believe they still refuse to ship them to us.-

-They're sticking to their guns. They say they're not responsible, and everyone has to go to their warehouses,- he shrugged. -I think they hate us for asking the same question every year.-

-Probably,- she sighed. -Well, I guess I deserve it for being a bit absent with the book and with...- She stopped abruptly. -With my stuff, I mean.-

-Stuff? Since when do you have 'stuff'? Stuff that I don't know about?- Heng asked.

-It's nothing, Heng, I'm just distracted.-

-Distracted with stuff.-

-Yes, Heng.-

-With... stuff.-

-Would you stop it already!- Freen raised her voice, surprising Heng, who had rarely seen Freen lose control of her emotions. 

-You're acting weird.-

Freen sighed exhaustedly. The door of the bookstore opened before them, and the sound of the little bells was like a blessing to her. Irin came out of the shop, looking from one to the other, not understanding anything.

-Can someone tell me what you two are doing here arguing?- she asked.

-Nothing, we were just about to go in- Freen replied, slipping through the open door. Heng followed her.

-We were talking about 'her stuff',- Heng whispered, exaggerating his facial expressions.

-But what 'stuff' does Freen have?- Irin whispered back.

-That's what I'd like to know,- Heng said.

Freen was compulsively organizing the papers scattered on the counter, thinking of picking up the phone and texting Becky to say what? She really had no idea what to say after that moment by the river. She still trembled a little at the memory, and she still couldn't explain what led her to hug her like that. She supposed that seeing her so vulnerable with the issue of her grandmother had provoked her desire to comfort her, but there was something, a sensation at the back of her neck like a very gentle breeze that gave her chills since she saw her standing on the bridge.

-I hate bridges- she thought as she stacked a pile of Festival of Art flyers.

-Wow, it's the first time you've laid hands on that this year, in the literal and metaphorical sense-- Irin remarked.

-I'm sorry, really- Freen apologized. -I know I've been quite absent, but I'm here now. Tell me, what do I do? I'm all yours.-

-Wow, tempting,- Irin raised an eyebrow. She couldn't help but laugh at Freen's expression -Relax, you know you're not my type exactly. But I'll keep it in mind.-

-Wait, I'm not your type?- Freen felt offended.

-Not really. You're... too serious, yes. I think that's it.-

-I'm not serious.-

-Of course you are.-

-Well, not everyone thinks so- she defended herself.

-Oh no? And who thinks you're not serious?- Irin smiled again at Freen's expression, which was a mix of absolute embarrassment and indignation. -Wait- she suddenly remembered something. -Are we talking about Rebecca?-

Freen was petrified. Was it so obvious? Did she have Becky's name written on her forehead? How had the conversation ended up there? -Yes, we're talking about Rebecca- Irin confirmed without waiting for Freen to answer. -Wow, Freen, that's something I didn't expect.-

-I don't know what you're talking about,- Freen said.

-Well, I think you do know. And hey, I think it's great.-

-I really don't know what you're talking about, Irin.-

-You could invite her to come with us this weekend.-

-What?-

-Yes, to go get the materials. I think Heng was going to tell you, hasn't he? I'm going to kill him,- said Irin, looking around the bookstore for the guy.

-Yes, he told me about the materials, but he didn't say anything about it being this weekend.-

-Well, it is, because anyway I had to go fix some papers, so we decided to go the three of us. Well, now the four of us.-

-I'm not going to ask Becky to come with us, are you crazy?-

-Come on, Freen,- said Irin, tilting her head. -I've said no, it's fine,- she said as she grabbed her bag and headed for the door of the bookstore to leave. -I'll wait for both of you here on Saturday at nine thirty.-

-But Irin,- Freen couldn't finish her sentence because the girl left the store waving her hand and closing the door behind her. -I'm not going to ask her to come with us. It's madness,- she murmured. -Isn't it?-

**