Two Different Persons

I shifted my gaze around, observing the bustling scene in the restaurant. People engaged in animated conversations with friends, colleagues, and family, creating a lively atmosphere. The lower floor was bathed in a warm blend of yellow and green lights, while the upper floor enjoyed the natural light pouring in from open windows.

In a corner opposite to our table, an orchestra played their instruments, adding a musical touch to the ambiance. Across from them, under the soft glow of yellow lights, a young Mexican couple shared a kiss amidst the crowd. I quickly averted my eyes, memories flashing before me. My past was a tapestry of such moments, but I had long lost the desire to partake in such activities.

Years ago, when I left Dillon's house, I made a conscious decision to avoid any romantic entanglements, especially the boyfriend-girlfriend kind. Fate, however, had different plans for me. I promised myself to delve into that story someday, but not now. Shifting my focus, I observed a family settling down in the west direction. A father gently tapped a tissue on his daughter's face, wiping away spilled soup, while the two children, a boy and a girl, enjoyed a family dinner.

"Grace, you'll regret your decision," echoed my father's words in my ears, followed by Dillon's. I never attempted to reach out to him again.

"Ahem, ahem," Arthur cleared his throat, breaking my reverie.

I shifted my gaze towards Arthur, realizing he had been watching me for an unknown duration. Lost in my thoughts, I was abruptly pulled back to the present by his intent stare.

"Oh, sorry," I mumbled, and at that moment, the waiter arrived with our food. The tantalizing aroma from the freshly cooked meal triggered a symphony of hunger pangs in my stomach.

Unfurling the napkin neatly placed on the table into a cone, I draped it across my lap. Arthur mirrored my actions, his eyes still fixed on me. His intense gaze made me slightly uneasy, but I masked it well.

As I began to eat, focusing on my plate, I sensed Arthur consuming his meal with his eyes trained on me. The growing awkwardness between us became palpable, and I attempted to deflect his attention.

"What are your future plans?" I inquired between bites.

Taking a sip of hot vegetable soup, Arthur raised his gaze, locking eyes with me. It felt as though he had unveiled me with the intensity of his stare, peering into the depths of my being.

"I'm planning to offer medical assistance to underserved communities in rural areas. I intend to open my own hospital there soon," he revealed after a brief pause.

"Oh man, I've only one heart. Tell me. Tell me. How many times would you win it?" His words resonated, and I couldn't help but feel proud to be sitting next to someone with such a positive outlook, dedicated to serving humanity. Yet, the mystery of the man remained, as I still knew very little about his background.

I found solace in the fact that individuals like him existed, driven by noble intentions. However, it ignited a desire within me to unravel more about him. He had sparked my curiosity further.

"That's great," I replied with a smile.

Turning the conversation back to me, he asked, "What about you?"

His question caught me off guard. What was my aim in life? What did I envision for my future, or even my present? Uncertainty clouded my thoughts; the only certainty was that I was running – from my past, the haunting tales, the people, my parents, and even from myself. I was escaping the harsh reality.

"I- I... Well, I have yet to think about that," I stammered initially, then spoke candidly, "What do you mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I don't know," I admitted, the truth echoing in my uncertain response.

"By the way, the food is good here," I interjected, attempting to shift the conversation away from my uncertain future. It seemed, however, that Arthur was more intrigued by probing into my aspirations than discussing the present.

"Yeah, but how come you don't know?" He questioned, his tone taking on a philosophical depth that transformed him into a different persona, as if a sage had temporarily inhabited his body. It felt like I wasn't talking to Arthur, but to someone else entirely.

His words forced me to reassess my life standards, prompting me to question my existence and the choices I had made, or not made. I wondered why he, a relative stranger, felt compelled to impart such wisdom.

"Well, that's my life. I could spend it the way I wish to. You're nobody to tell me what I should do or not," I retorted bluntly.

A heavy silence lingered for a moment as I lowered my head to focus on my meal. The tension between us heightened, surpassing the warmth of the dishes on the table. Although he maintained an unwavering gaze on me, I sensed a burden in his stare that made me uneasy.

It seemed like my earlier words had humiliated him. Truth be told, I hadn't intended to hurt or disrespect him. My temper, a trait inherited since childhood and exacerbated by my father's indulgence, often led me to speak without considering the consequences.

He was the one who loved me the most, yet he played a significant role in turning me into a spoiled, elite brat. Over time, I developed a dislike for this aspect of my personality, but eradicating it proved to be a daunting task. It would resurface periodically, causing me to behave impulsively, much like I did with him.

Now, as I reflected on my words, I regretted the way I had responded. Despite his intentions being genuinely caring and for my well-being, I had lashed out at him. He hadn't said anything wrong; in fact, he was right. I had consistently made poor choices, from selecting my life partner to decisions as trivial as leaving my home for a boy who eventually betrayed me. Regret had become a constant companion in my life, but I didn't want to add more to it, especially the regret of mistreating a guy who had taken me out for lunch, picked me up, and dropped me off.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, sipping on my soup, unable to summon the courage to meet his eyes.

"What did you say?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I said, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked like this," I confessed.

"It's okay," he replied, offering a forgiving response.

Awkwardness and silence settled between us, persisting until we both finished our meals. Breaking the quietude, he asked, "So, you didn't want to be a teacher in the first place?" while wiping his mouth with the napkin.

"Can we talk about something else?" I replied plainly. I wasn't accustomed to being rude to anyone, especially strangers, but there was something about his personality or his eyes that irritated and annoyed me, prompting me to respond with rudeness.

Despite my initial hopes for a romantic drive or lunch, his questions about my profession, choices, and goals frustrated me. His serious demeanor, even on a date with a young and beautiful girl, baffled me.

"Yes, sure," he answered, devoid of a smile.

I couldn't fathom how someone could be so serious, especially during a date. Instead of indulging in romantic conversations, he seemed fixated on mundane inquiries.

"No, why don't you tell me something about yourself?" I suggested.

"About me?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, about you!" I insisted.

"What particular thing do you want to know about me?" he replied with another question, a habit of his that I found irritating.

"Anything," I shrugged my shoulders.

"Well, I always wanted to study medicine. Although my journey to become a doctor faced challenges, my determination and persistence helped me achieve my goals," he shared.

"Argghh..." I groaned.

"What happened?" he inquired.

"Your world revolves around medicine, aims, and goals? Nothing interesting?" I retorted.

"All these things are interesting to me," he responded.

His response felt like a slap to my face for asking such a seemingly foolish question. I berated myself internally, questioning the sanity of my inquiries. How could I probe someone about their interests and aims?

Feeling engulfed in embarrassment, I decided to zip my mouth. However, it seemed like he relished putting me in this uncomfortable position. "Like you enjoy teaching and have an interest in it. Despite Carl being against your profession, you chose to continue it. It's just the same," he remarked.

His words stirred my inner turmoil, awakening a surge of anger within me. My blood boiled, turning the veins in my eyes red with resentment. "No, it's not the same. You and I are not the same. How dare you bring Carl and my issues into our conversation? You intentionally dragged them just to hurt me. How cheap of you," I snapped, throwing the napkin on the table as I abruptly stood up.

Summoning the waiter, I demanded the bill. "Hey, listen, Grace. You took me wrong. I didn't mean that," he attempted to explain, standing up to stop me.

"Whatever you meant, I have no interest in knowing anymore. By the way, thanks for bringing me here and insulting me like this," I retorted.

"When did I insult you?" he asked, perplexed.

"Oh yeah, you didn't do anything. Fine. I was wrong. It's actually my fault that I came here with you. It's my fault I took your help in the morning. I shouldn't have given importance to a man like you. Bloody drunkard," I roared, not allowing him a chance to speak. As the waiter arrived with the bill, I fished out my credit card and placed it in the bill book.

The waiter returned my credit card after a while as I stood near the table, my back turned to him. He made no attempt to speak, and I didn't look back. There was no insistence on him paying the bill. Stomping my feet, I grabbed my card from the waiter and left the restaurant without a backward glance. Hailing a cab, I headed straight to my building.