Scars Left By Memories - Book II

A Familiar Face

Francisco gets out his car, finally. I waited out in the warm wether for him to get out of the car. When he gets out of the small crease between his car and the car besides his.

I follow behind him quietly. Back in July and the months before that, I used to be a very active person. I would talk a lot. Now I was much more quiet and would keep my comments to myself.

When we entered into the grocery store. I could already feel the coldness from freezers and fridges around me. Pulling the shopping cart towards me. Francisco walked into the store. Probably assuming I was behind him.

"Looks like you could use some help." A nice warning voice asked. It was a very young boy like voice. I turned around to find a teenaged looking boy.

He was probably much older. He had a very youthful face. Dark brown hair. I stopped myself from admiring his attractive face.

"Uh, yes that would be nice." I reply not trying to trip over him.

He pulled the shopping cart out no problem, making me look like an idiot. I grabbed the handles of the shopping cart pushing it on my own.

"Well, what are you doing here all alone?" He asked, another question. Which meant another answer.

"She's not alone actually." Francisco's voice heroically came to rescue. I looked up finding Francisco who put a couple of foods, sauces, and other things into the cart.

"Oh, sorry. You must be her friend." The man replies smirking.

"Yeah, but you better get going now. I think it's the best for both of us." Francisco said, adding his smirk at the end.

"Okay, I am sorry for disturbing your friend." The man says sternly before walking away.

"You could've asked me if you needed help with the shopping cart." Francisco replies. I frowned at the statement.

"I thought maybe I could help you. Since we were buying a lot of stuff." I said softly. I wouldn't consider myself talking softly anymore. Since it's just a natural thing.

"It's just, I'll tell you when we get home. Anyways, would you like some pizza for lunch?" Francisco ask. I felt my lips curve into a smile.

"I haven't had a good slice of pizza in a while." I answer. Francisco smiles. We continued to do shopping. The shopping car was halfway full.

I walked over to the cereal section. I found the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Biting my lower lip. It took you that long to find it? Yes, this cereal is so-. I stopped myself from remembering that moment.

Grabbing the cereal box from the shelf. Trying not to cry from thinking about Tristan. Walking out of the isle. I put the box into the shopping cart.

Francisco walked back from the isle. He puts a thing of straws into the cart.

"Okay, I think we can go. We have enough things for us to survive." Francisco says pulling the cart. I nodded. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just my eyes are so dry and I needed to put some eye drops in." I answer. Hopefully he wouldn't question my excuse.

"Okay." Francisco said in confusion.

"You don't believe me?" I ask, my eyes clearing up after thinking about Tristan.

"I can tell wether you're just trying to avoid my question and being honest." Francisco answers. I tried not to cry at the moment. Because it felt like Tristan's face, swarm my mind.

When Francisco looks away pushing the cart once again. I bit my lower lip trying to keep myself from crying till I get home. I concealed myself when I thought of happy things.

"Well of course you can tell. Because it's obvious." I said to Francisco.

"Sage, this is not a mean comment or anything. But you are just any easy girl to read." Francisco replies. My eyes widened at the comment.

"Sometimes you are easy to read. Other times you are so difficult." I inform him.

"I know. My mother told me that all the time." Francisco said.

"Yeah, because you are like a long one thousand page chapter book. It's so hard to read. So we go on wikipedia and find out. But it still doesn't make sense." I reply. Francisco chuckles.

"What kinda of analogy is that?" Francisco ask. I rolled my eyes at that question.

***

"Thank you George. Here's your tip. Have a nice day." Francisco said giving the man seven dollars.

George walked off happily. Not surprised. Francisco shuts the front door. He takes a seat on the barstool. I reminded myself of something.

"Francisco, so earlier at the grocery store. You told you were going to tell me about that guy from earlier." I remind him.

"He's Marco. From the Russian mafia. I recognize him from one of this big mafia event held in Illinois a couple years back. He's not any better than another Russian. I still want you to stay away from him. Okay." Francisco says wary. He was worried.

"Okay thats if we encounter him again." I reply. Francisco nods. He smiles happily at my response.

Francisco gets off the barstool walks over to the kitchen. He pulls out the tray from the oven. Putting the pizza onto the tray using this metal thing, that places like Little Caesars and other pizzas places use.

When the pizza was done. Francisco took it out of the oven. Setting it in the counter. He starts cutting the pizzas somewhat evenly.

"How many slices do you want?" Francisco ask finish cutting the last pieces.

"Two." I answer. He nodded picking up paper plate from the side of him. Grabs two slices of nice warm slice of pizza. He puts them on the plate.

I took the plate, walked over to the living room. Francisco walks over to the front door. I didn't hear it.

"You're okay!" A familiar voice ring in my head. I set my pizza down onto the glass table. Getting up to see who it was. I've never been so happy to see...

Martinez.