Broken Charms

Same Mistakes: Part Four

“Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.”

― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

 Harry

“come on, I’m tired can we sit down for a while. My feet hurt.” I complained.

“Says the man who is used to running up and down a stage for three hours almost every day for what eight months?” she asked nudging my ribcage.

“Yes, but I’m not used to walking an entire city within a day, we could have taken your motorcycle if you wanted to show me around the city.”

“Yeah, we could have, but where is the fun in that?” she deadpanned  with a mischievous grin on her face. we have been walking for hours. She had showed all the historical monuments and the  museums that were close to the centre and then she decided to walk back to her house since we took a cab in the morning to go to the hospital. My feet were killing me. she had promised me though that as soon as we got to her house I could rest for as long as I wanted.

“why can’t we just take a bus or those weird buses that have antennas?” I suggested. Only the possibility that one of those buses could take to Astrid’s house in a minute was tormenting me.

“Because, we would be packed in a bus for the rest of the way and we wouldn’t enjoy our walk around the city. You asked to see what I do in my free time here. Why are you complaining?”

“You visit museums in your free time?”

“Yes, seeing the artifacts and walking on those corridors helps me think.”

“That’s pathetic?”

“Really? and whining about you being tired when we’ve being walking for nearly three hours isn’t, right?” I checked my watch she was right. We hadn’t been walking for as long as I thought. That shut me up until we reached her building.

As soon as we entered I threw myself onto the couch intending to never get up until I had to go back to my hotel. I had the remote control in my hand in second and I was ready to turn on the television into a music channel I had noticed earlier in the hospital.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked string me up and down with her arms at her waist.

“Emm… watching T.V. why?”

“No,you’re not. You’re helping me make lunch.” She said and I followed her back to the kitchen.

“What do you want to eat?” she asked.

“Whatever is easy, I’m hungry.”

“How about pasta? I’ll boil them and you can make a sauce.” She suggested.

“What kind of pasta?” I asked smirking at the memories that flooded my mind. Paris.

“Spaghetti.” She said mimicking my expression. She hadn’t forgotten how she threw the entire pan with boiled spaghetti on me as a payback. “And no weird comments of water splashing because I think you remember where that ended up the last time.”

“Yes, ma’am!” I said solemnly.

She went right into preparing the pasta. Pouring water into the pan and letting it boil. I opened the fridge to search for something that would make a good ingredient for a sause but I only came up with two things.

“There is only ketchup and cheese here. I think we’ll have to make do with these.” I said obviously relieved that my task was so easy. She just shrugged and went back on checking the water. she threw the pasta into the pan and closed the lid.