Coincidences

Act III

Have you ever wondered what coincidence meant? If said with my own words, it's a person or an event or a series of these that meet up in the same time and place. Coincidere means to meet or to cross in Italian, so I can see a connection there.

Any meeting, resemblance, or maybe just a random occurrence happening within the same time and place can be considered as a coincidence. At least, to my philosophy. It's a common thing for me, so I happen to write a list of events worth telling on a notebook.

I was jotting stuff down the notebook while waiting for Dad to come pick me up, until Mrs. Hudson happened to come pick her up from school.

"Martin, I see you made it through a long day," she said, scavenging her bag for something. "Zoey said you had a little accident back there."

I showed her my varsity jacket, displaying a dry brown smudge. "You got that right."

She found what she was looking for. Car keys. They had a tiny Minnie Mouse keychain.

She tilted her head towards the car. She offered, "Want a ride home?"

I explained, "My dad's gonna pick me up. Don't worry about me."

A still vibration alerted me from my pocket. It was Dad. He texted me about the fact that he was going to be late, some further information about his meeting, and that I had to walk home.

After reading this, the Hudson's car was going underway. I signaled them, shouting carelessly, "Hey, can I come?!"

The next thing I know, I was hanging out at the backseat, with Mrs. Hudson on the wheel and Zoey riding shotgun.

The luxurious car had white leather seats and heavy air-conditioning. The windows were tinted one-way, and a computerized voice instructed directions.

"So were you able to conserve with each other?"

She cut the silence to break the tension.

"Um, not much, ma'am."

"Please, just call me Linda."

"Linda."

Linda elbowed the mute Zoey and whispered soft incomprehensible words. Zoey kept on looking down, still incredibly shy.

"Well, you'll talk sometime soon," she said, already given up.

The silence invaded the place again, leading to a great discomfort. I decided to look out the window. We were taking a different route. We drove to the town, now revealing commercial stores and transportation services.

"Well, we'll be taking a li'l detour," she announced. A grin sparkled from her face.

We pass by the town centre. A small fountain with an animate statue marked the eye of the roundabout. The town hall, presumably made out of marble, was the main highlight of the area. Various people in suits were standing by the entrance, saluting each other with formal handshakes.

We headed straight on. Signs indicated an arrow pointing up, with the word "Pier" spelled out.

Despite being near the shore, the expected welcome of fishy stench was not notable. The stores boomed with publicity around this zone: ice cream stores, beach wear, fishing gear rentals...

We stopped before making it to the wooden planks; an obvious sign that parking was not permitted. We leave the car next to the payphone, and I was asked to come with them. I followed having nothing else to do.

I glanced at my phone. It's a quarter to three. I wrote a message to Dad, saying,

"Linda drove me. Pier. Near this restaurant called Peces. Text ya l8r."

I put my phone away. Linda grabbed my attention. Her hand was stretch towards Peces. "Let's go here. Do you like seafood, Martin?"

Peces was a seafood buffet, with waiters running about with bottomless pitchers of ice tea and Coke. The crowd hinted that it was a family restaurant, like kids standing on the cushions, teenagers laughing their hearts out, and adults having intimate conversations, regardless the noise these others made.

A waitress guided us to the stairs, due to the lack of vacancy in the lower floor. Above, it was more relaxed than usual.

I received a text message from Dad.

"I'm at Peces, actually. Where are you now?"

As soon as I read that, I was eye to eye with my father.

Silence.

"Mr. Turner, a fine surprise it is to see you," Linda bursted out.

He said, "Of course, of course." He appeared to be with a man, probably a contractor. They finished make some kind of deal, as blueprints were scattered throughout the table.

The man stood up to leave. With a light bow, he thanked Dad for his cooperation, and he carried off with his suitcase.

Linda asked Dad, "Do you mind if we eat here?"

"Sure."

Since the tables can only accommodate two people, Linda and Dad stayed by their table. And Zoey and I had to sit down on our own.

While the adults were talking about jobs and etcetera, we were suffering from an awkward pause. We stared into void, pieholes shut, doing absolutely nothing.

"Excuse me."

...

"Excuse me."

I jolted a bit. I looked up to a waitress, pen and pad at hand.

"What would you like today?"

Linda, aware of the commotion, called, "They're with us."

The waitress rested the ballpoint on the pad. "Okay, any drinks?" she asked.

Zoey and I both said Coke.

"4, coming right up."

How awkward.

Dad said, "Go serve yourselves. It's a buffet."

We both grabbed a plate and headed downstairs. The ruckus came back to life, along with an Ariana Grande song suddenly exploding from the speakers. The food was set all nice and tidy, unlike most restaurants. I served myself a recently grilled fish and some kind of skewered meat. I came back, only to realize she took the same things.

Is she doing this on purpose?

You can see how this can be annoying.

I ate all I had in plate. She didn't eat anything aside from a nibble or two. She barely touched her Coke, too.

I went to the bathroom, just to save myself from the situation. It's confusing to try to read a girl. She's acting strange. I don't know why.

I washed my face and came back to them. They were starting to leave already. Linda call Zoey, "Honey, let's go."

Zoey stood up. "Okay," she said softly.

As I took my stained jacket, I saw that her plate was spotless and her cup was empty.