I Amsterdam (Completed)

Chapter 10.3 - Brandon

My parents weren't up yet when I left the house and walked over to Emma's. I knocked, and I heard her light footsteps as she came and opened the door.

But behind the door wasn't Emma; it was someone else.

"Hello," the man said. He was wearing a baby blue robe to match his blue eyes and had a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand. His black hair was still wet and slicked back from a shower, and he had a light beard from a few days of not shaving, threatening to take a hold of his face. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Hi, I'm Brandon," I greeted him. "I'm the one who's been showing Emma around Amsterdam these past few days. I was just wondering if she was here?"

"Ah, um," the man said, clearing his throat. "Emma's not here at the moment. Sorry."

"Oh, okay," I replied. "Do you know where she is, then?"

"Um, she told me she went to do some shopping."

Shopping? Why? I nodded. "Alright, thank you, Mr. Hayes. I'm sorry to bother you."

"Mr. Schneider," the man corrected.

The word took me aback. "Schneider? I'm sorry, I thought Emma's last name was Hayes." I wondered if I had read it wrong from her sketchbook, but I was sure I did. It was clear in my mind - Emerald Hayes - written in cursive.

"No, Emma's last name is Hayes," Mr. Schneider assured me. "But I'm not her father."

"Oh," I replied, thinking. "Are you her stepfather, then?"

"No," he answered. "Her father's in the US. I'm a friend of his."

"The US?" I repeated in disbelief. "But...she...what?"

Mr. Schneider looked like he saw a ghost. "She didn't tell you," he mumbled, mostly to himself.

My eyebrows narrowed suspiciously. "Tell me what?"

"I think you should talk with her," he advised, and moved to close the door.

I blocked him from doing so, wrapping my hand around the door and pushing against his force. "No, tell me," I demanded.

Mr. Schneider looked me over from head to toe, examining me as if I were a specimen and he was a scientist. I could already picture him in one of those white robes in a laboratory. "You love Emma," he stated out of the blue. It wasn't a question.

I wasn't sure how to reply. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"I could tell she loves you too. Just ask her, and she will tell you," Mr. Schneider told me. "She'll probably be back soon enough." He attempted to close the door once again.

"No, please. Just tell me," I pleaded, stiffening my hand wrapped around the door. I placed my foot in its path for good measure. "Please."

I could tell Mr. Schneider was still reluctant, but he released his hold from the door so that it swung on its hinges freely, creaking open. He then cupped his coffee mug with both hands and held close it to his chest, as if trying to capture its warmth. I could see the pain in his eyes as he said, "Emma's mother died a few years ago, and her father is in the US, getting treatment for his grief over his wife. So, Emma ran away, to chase her dreams of travelling the world. Alone."

What? I could already imagine what my face looked like, with my mouth dropping open and my eyes wide and confused. But the only thing I could think of was, What?

I wanted Mr. Schneider to repeat what he said, but I had already heard it, loud and clear in the crisp morning air.

I handed him the raven sketch, pressuring it tight against his chest. The paper wrinkled under my grip, but it was of no concern to me anymore. "This is Emma's," I told him.