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Prologue

Prologue

I saw the street where my day usually starts, I keep my composure and dare to walk like a ghost in a crowd of angels. They cannot see me. They don't know where I'm heading nor where I came from. I remember Nicholas Cage in City of Angels and became suddenly curious about his feelings.

New York back then was just a pipe dream and to others perhaps going there was a chimera in the brain. I felt so lucky because I've been here and found a job that has reached my expectations. But this day wouldn't be the same because if the end existed, so did the beginning. Whether I like it or not, I have to face it. It is terrifying, sad, and thrilling all at the same time. Even though I'm looking at the same places where I eat a nice breakfast, going to a laundry shop, or meeting other people, I couldn't deny that I will miss everything about it despite the dark fences that surrounds the City and the mental tension and pressure it has. This is where I have established my dream, this is where I grew professionally and this is where, I know, my heart was. I asked myself repeatedly how sure I am but every time I do that, I still get the same answer. It wouldn't be hidden anymore.

I glanced at my watch to check the time and it took me a few minutes to decide to drop by at a friend's house. I shook my head lightly and placed my two hands inside my pocket. "Few more hours..," I whispered and smiled bitterly.

"Neil!" I tilted my head and saw Mr. Angevine sitting on the bench in front of his house, holding his newspaper. I waved at him and at the same time gestured towards the paper bag I'm holding. He placed the cup of his coffee beside and gave me a look that made me groan mentally. His lenses were almost consumed by the moist of the hot coffee.  "I am not going to get any free bagels starting tomorrow, am I?" He asked in despair and struggled reaching for his walking cane, it was a wooden cane crafted with solid oak and brass but the rubber tip was missing. He never uses the expensive one because of a silly reason, either it might get damaged or something. He never uses those things given by his wife except during this very special day of each year, that is when he visits her at the cemetery. I immediately helped him but he raised his hand a bit to shrug me off. "You know, young man, this decision might stick your neck out. You're okay with that?" he said in a firm tone. I felt  the need to stay when I saw him struggling to walk and his pants stained. But I almost laughed of his comment.

"I think Mrs Smith can sort that out for you." I glanced and winked at Mrs. Smith as she was watering her plants a few meters away from the bench. Mrs Smith is a good neighbor. She's got good compensation from the government, she's got insurance and health benefits, her own house, and a car. Her husband died in the war in Kenya. I wasn't able to get the exact details but I think she once told me  more than ten bullets was found in his body. It was a tragedy.

She rolled her eyes and waved at me.

"You know the old man is right, Neil." She blinked, nodding her head while her brows are raised.

"No way! I'd rather die in my bed alone than to have bagels with her!" Mr. Angevine responded with a scathing but hilarious retort.

"It's just bagels! It's not a date." Mrs. Smith sounded offended by his retort. She composed herself and pushed to her feet, walking away from us.

"What the fuck? Is that crazy old woman hitting on me?" Mr Angevine said with conviction in his words.

"Don't get too cocky about a woman trying to be nice to you. You know, you need someone like her. Someone who is very patient and caring and understanding." I told him while opening the door of his house, I folded the newspaper and tapped it lightly to his right shoulder. "I wouldn't be here to drop by every day. She likes you even though you're old and stinky," I said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. "You need her." I added and we both laughed.

"Young man, I don't need a wife, you do. I'm old and I'm dying. If I date her now, I might die sooner. " He laughed at his own statement. "Your girlfriend might be very excited huh." He added. His face became serious and focused. He smiled at me, not reaching his eyes. "You built something here that couldn't be taken away from you, but I understand how important the case is, especially to your girlfriend. Free bagels can wait."
I dare not to respond. Arguments, for me, is a practice of tolerance and respect. I never understood its essence until my dad sent me to law school back in the Philippines. "Looking forward to meet her. I hope all is well."

There is always an exception. If I was in a Metropolitan or a Municipal trial court, I would have answered each statement. But no. I chose not to talk about it. He doesn't know and I can't blame him even though repeating the word girlfriend ticks me off.

"I have to go, Chris. See you?" I offered my hand and he put out his full effort to offer his. He stood straight, maintained his composure and smiled bitterly.

"You are always my favorite student. Go back in the Philippines and win that case." He said, sounding like a command. I smiled back and we shook hands. "Justice is not only for rich people. You tell them." He added with a supportive tone.

"Thank you." I said and sighed in relief afterwards.