what happened in a small town

part nineteen

She did not sleep that night until the morning sun appeared lazily.

Today is the beginning of the weekend. She has today and tomorrow to start her fourth week at work. She had forgotten that today was off. She will take advantage of that to be alone away from all the people. She needs to think about her situation with Harry, what she wants, and how her life will be in the coming days. Perhaps she needs to get away from her aunt’s house, but she cannot reach anything specific now. She needs air, quiet, and solitude.

She thought a little before she got out of bed and went to the bathroom. She took a quick warm shower, forced to look at herself in the mirror. She looked pale and her eyes were red and puffy. She was so pale that even her eyes looked even paler. She sighed in sorrow and went back to her room. She put on black sweatpants and a yellow cotton sweater. She put her hair up in a bun, took her phone, and went out without making a sound so as not to wake her aunt. It was not yet half past six.

The sun was on Its way to the middle of the sky, birds were flying from every direction, the streets were empty of people and sounds, and the universe was in its original state before anyone came to it; she took a strong sigh and walked slowly towards the road leading to the port. 

She chose to listen to Frank Sinatra songs through her headphones, the soothing tunes helped her calm down.
She ran for a long time but she didn’t feel tired. The music helped her pass the time and release her emotional energy, but she couldn’t think, and she didn’t want to think.
She felt a move behind her, and next to her eyes, she saw a body taller and wider than her running parallel to her. She did not pay attention and tried to speed up her running pace to get away from him, but he imitated her to run parallel to her again. She moved away and he came after her.

She slowed down to allow him to move away and he slowed down with her. It seemed that he intended to get her attention.

She pressed the wireless headphones violently and suddenly stopped, turning to him. As she turned, her eyebrows rose in surprise. She knew him, and she had even held a meeting with him for two hours yesterday. Her lips moved as she pronounced his name in surprise.

“Mr. Greg!” Her chest began to quiet as she repeated in a low, surprised tone, her eyes narrowing in concentration. “Peter Greg.”
She turned her body half-turned, leaned, and looked narrowly, letting the sun hide half of her face and deafening the other half in a questioning look that she did not follow with a question, which made him silent. He had an answer to a question that she was supposed to ask, but with her silence and waiting, she startled him, so he remained silent, looking at her with a smile. He liked that she could surprise him.
She sighed and gave him an impatient look, he coughed poorly and took a step closer to her. “How are you?”
She raised an eyebrow dismissively, the corner of her lips quirking up in a sarcastic tone, causing him to raise his hand to scratch his head. “I mean, are you okay?”

She pursed her lips in a shake of her head that feigned surprise but was clearly contemptuous. “Yes, that is indeed a different sentence from the previous one.”

He pursed his lips and a silly smile appeared on them, indicating his embarrassment. She put up barriers in front of him so he wouldn’t act smart with them, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t come directly because he basically didn’t have anything to say in this way. “You’re right; I saw you running, so I came to say hay to you.”

She straightened herself up to face him, lifted her head to meet his, and stuck out her fingers in a fake but acceptable smile of politeness. “In that case, hey to you too, Mr. Greg.”
“Please just Peter.”

He said it nervously as he greeted her, she moved her fingers in his palm again to repeat the formal greeting. “hey, Peter.”

She pulled her hands from his palms and left them extended in the air; she returned to her leaning stance with a yellow smile; he stepped back in admiration because she could surprise him with her reactions. He was handsome, and he knew that, but it seemed to have no effect on her. “Can I walk with you for a bit?”

Her eyebrows rose slightly and she turned, motioning for him to join her walk. She wanted to go back to the jazz songs that were Blaring from the earphones. She wanted to disconnect from the world. She took one off and put it in its case, then put the other back to listen to the music with one ear and give it half the focus and a third of the mind.
“You killed Jason at the meeting yesterday.”

She hummed, her lips pursed indifferently. “That’s another description of my job.”
He raised his head to meet her indifference to his attempts because he simply liked her. He liked dark-haired, white-skinned women, but she was also special and could surprise him every time she spoke.

He moved his head to brush a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes. “I didn’t think this work could ever rise from the dead.”

She sighed with patience and started Fading, passed a lady with a dog, and gave her a scrutinizing look before walking past them; hating people in small towns and islands, she replied with a third of her mind.
“Telenovelas already have their audience: housewives, unemployed women, single working women, and romantic girls. They make this kind of drama for us to make us drown in rosy dreams or escape from reality. It doesn’t need much to make it watchable and successful because it already has its audience ready to make any new work in it successful even if its story is made dozens of times before .”

He put his hand In the pocket of his gray sweatpants trying to tease her. “You’re right but your agency couldn’t succeed in this easy business that already has its audience.”
She spread her hands and then her arms around her in a theatrical movement without paying attention to him, her eyes following an imaginary point in front of her. “And here I have fixed that and I will make your series a success.”

He shook his head In exhalation, unable to make her care or talk; she put him in a ridiculous position as if he was an intruder, and because of the awkwardness of the situation, she left him as if there were no topics that brought them together and not even coincidence could swallow her. He looked around at the port they had arrived at, then suddenly said, presenting his golden ticket.
“Did you know that I was a doctor before I became a soap opera writer?”

She stopped suddenly, closed her eyes with a mocking smile, then opened them as she turned to stand in front of him, her arms crossed in front of her chest and her expression formed in a mocking manner.
“Is that the sentence you say before you get the girl?”

He laughed, running his tongue over the side of his jaw. He looked at her, his admiration clear, even his fascination with her, which was entirely a coincidence. He decided to take a direct approach with her. He nodded his head in agreement. “Usually; this sentence leads to a long session in a café to learn the story of the surgeon who decided to leave medicine to write telenovelas, soap operas, long romantic dramas, and…”

She interrupted him, moving her hand in a theatrical introduction. “And you make them admire your wit and your story, which is mostly not true, and you get excited that they believe it because it makes you feel like you are a really good writer when in fact you are a skilled liar but you convince yourself that the writer is nothing but a skilled liar, and then the session moves to the house, your house or hers and a wild night and then a promise to call and then the end of the episode with a sarcastic smile from you to that idiot woman.”

She looked at him with the haughtiness he deserved, raising her eyebrows and then pointing at herself with the corner of her eye. “I’m a good watcher, Doctor.”
“But I’m really a surgeon.”

He said it with a genuine laugh of enjoyment that she met with unimpressed coolness. “I know, but I don’t care to know the story, and I certainly don’t care to go to your hotel to be the star of another episode of your low show.”
He raised his eyebrows as he pursed his lips in regret. “that’s Bad, but I really want to sit with you in a café; I promise I will tell you the real story.”

“Too bad I’m not in the mood to listen to stories and play the talking game to find out who’s the smartest.”

Her response was quick and decisive, he looked at her in astonishment, he thought to himself that he was irresistible, he did not remember the last girl who resisted him, perhaps because this did not happen, this is what every handsome man believes and has the right to do so, who can refuse a handsome man who tells her that he chose her as Charles did when he chose to dance with Cinderella, she could not refuse because she was the prince’s chosen one and this is what fills the girl’s vanity, so the matter turns into a challenge when a girl refuses or runs away as Cinderella did.
Who could run away from a prince? For this reason, he decides that she should become his wife, and the whole kingdom searches for her with one shoe because he only wants the one who ran away from the prince’s lap.
“Did you know that I love dark-haired, fair-skinned women like you? They are very beautiful and very intelligent.”

She sighed as she stepped back, her features going from mocking to annoyed, warning him in her own way. “Good; blondes may be the most common, but there are plenty of dark-haired ones you can find and play your way with, and they will believe you because nothing will happen between us.”

She took a step back and raised her hands in surrender. “Peter, we have a job to do and we both need to complete it without complications, because as handsome as you are and a good drama writer, there are hundreds like you and when one of your projects fails, production companies will not contract with you because these series, despite having an audience, can fail for no apparent reason. Life can no longer tolerate long series now, so their work has become fraught with risks that make producers very careful in choosing them.” She leaned over to give him seriousness and firmness. “So please let me do my job and don’t create problems that neither of us needs.”

She nodded in silent affirmation, then turned and left him. He may like her very much and he loves to have fun very much, but he is not a prince either. He is just a passing bird. If a tree does not receive him, he does not try to stand on it again. Also, this city gives him sparks of a new idea.
He will stay because he wants to write something with this town vibe.
He stood watching her between while she turned to run again, disconnecting herself from the outside world with the second headset, and suddenly, after the silence she had been drowning in before he broke it, she found herself drowning in a chatter of long, tangled, meaningless thoughts.

Her days just keep getting better and better, she thought sarcastically.
~~

The return of the Disappeared son
In the early morning hours of his ninth day outside the house, he returned.

He put the key in the door, turned it, and entered, then closed it behind him with a push of his feet. He looked at the empty hall and headed to the stairs. He climbed a few steps before his mother’s voice came to him. She used to wake up early and go out to her women’s meeting On the same day every week. He doesn’t know why she didn’t do that this week.

“Finally he showed up.”
He turned to her, holding onto the railing of the stairs. “Hi, Mom.”
“Thank you for finally coming home.”

He closed his eyes and sighed. She placed something on a small table and before he could answer, she shouted in a choked voice that she had been suppressing throughout the days of his absence. “She’s coming back again and you’re just kicking everyone for her.”

He raised his other hand to rub his forehead, he was in a pitiful state, a disheveled mess with a growing beard and a mind boiling uncontrollably.