When Bluebirds Fly | ✔

Part One : Chapter Fifteen

Hey, Ally, it's Wednesday in case you forgot. Lunch at 1?

It was half an hour past 1 as I stood bitterly outside the vegan café, one of my hands clutching the umbrella and the other my phone as I blinked at the screen. She had left me on seen, yet I hoped that she would show up because of the goodness in her big heart. She didn't, she wasn't going to. She would never forgive me for I had killed all the goodness in her.

I sighed audibly, slipping the phone in my pocket and hating to break the tradition of lunching with Ally. I looked longingly through the glass-sheathed walls of the café, people in cardigans huddled together with warm plates of food in front of them. I was tempted to get away from this cold rain and step inside, but I knew that once I settled on the cosy chairs, I would be dourly reminded of the absence of a certain blonde head girl in front of me.

Instead, I resolutely strode towards Sam's dad's humble restaurant for a bowl of cheap beef noodles and perhaps a lucky glimpse of Sam.

"The regular," I said with a little smile to Sam's dad who stood behind the counter vigorously wiping a bowl which looked clean enough.

"Are you looking for Sam?" he asked knowingly in his sombre voice, the kind of voice which never wavered according to emotions. "He left just five minutes ago."

"Oh." I could feel the disappointment seep in me as I tried to stop it from consuming. "Never mind, I'll talk to him later."

Lies. I went on texting him, but like Ally, he too left me on read. I could sense an entire army of haters meticulously forming against me.

Sam's dad imperceptibly nodded and commanded my order to one of his workers. The restaurant, if I could take the liberty to call that, was a little shack on the corner of the street serving the best noodles in the entire town. The wafting aroma always pulled in the unsuspecting people casually strolling on the sidewalk and that was how the restaurant built up its reputation. Now this place was busy the entire day with not an inch of space visible because of the hungry crowd. I could feel the breath of the person behind me on my hair and it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

It was hot inside and one didn't get out without being drenched in sweat. Sam's dad had permanent pit stains on his white undershirt and there were rare moments where I had seen him in a clean, decent shirt. The last was on Sam's parents-teachers meet six months back.

He had fresh scars now and that made him avoid eye-contact with any customers, including me. Sometimes, I prayed for his monster of a wife to be dead. The restaurant would have been much bigger with all the money that was being spent on her and Sam and his dad would have been happier. The thought of how the death of a person could bring happiness astonished me.

Will the death of me bring---?

The big bowl of beef noodles was placed in front of me with a deliberate noise. That was sort of their style, to generate the noise of the bowl striking against the counter. The steam rose from the piping hot soup in which the meat and the noodles were getting more cooked.

It was the steam, I swear it was the steam that made my eyes watery and caused a drop to fall in the soup and create a gentle ripple.

"Whatever she's having, make one!" I heard the person beside me slur as he sat on the dented steel stool. These stools were the kind which would creak horribly if moved, hence nobody moved them. They stayed at their spots every day which made me wonder if their rust had penetrated into the floor like the roots of the tree. Goddamn, it was so hot and the steam. The steam made more water to dribble down my eyes. "And quick!"