Carl To The Rescue

Side by side, we walked through the gates and entered the building's ground floor. As usual, the atmosphere down here was lively. In the evening, boys, men, and even some women gathered in the lobby for casual chit-chats. Uncles discussed their elderly matters, while boys discussed their studies. Everyone seemed engrossed in their own affairs as we made our way through.

It was then that I realized I had forgotten my keys in my apartment. The idea of getting spare keys crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. At least not as the first option. Another thought emerged, and in my complete consciousness, I found myself preferring it over the first one.

"You can stay in my apartment rather than sitting in the lobby until Carl arrives," he offered as we sat in the car after exiting the hospital.

Despite my growing happiness at the suggestion, I initially refused him. The expression on his face indicated that he wouldn't insist further. So, when he repeated his offer with a bit more emphasis, I finally agreed.

"Okay, fine," I said, accepting his offer.

He pressed the digit seven on the keypad, and the door split open. I followed him into the elevator, feeling a slight jerk as the door closed and the elevator began its ascent.

My heart felt like it was floating, suspended in mid-air, as the view outside seemed to vibrate with energy. Although I wasn't actually flying, the magnetic pull of his presence, standing so close to me, drew me in like a magnet.

I didn't dare to lift my gaze and meet his eyes, knowing that he was looking down at me, his gaze scanning every inch of my being. I felt suffocated under the weight of his intense scrutiny, as if I couldn't breathe.

I would have felt like I was about to suffocate if the elevator doors hadn't opened just in time. Seizing the opportunity, I took the lead this time, and he followed me out.

It wasn't that I was desperate to go to his apartment and see where this mysterious man resided. Well, not entirely. I had harbored a curiosity about his apartment for some time now. And after finding that box in the drawer of his table, my suspicion only grew. I wanted to go there to look for any signs of a girl. If he was in a relationship, it would be natural for her to visit his place often, leaving behind traces of her presence.

Despite feeling suffocated under his gaze, I proceeded because I wanted to escape from it, even if just for a moment. Yet, I knew it would still linger in his apartment. But wasn't it a choice I made for myself? After all, I had consented to staying at his apartment until Carl arrived.

Arthur turned the keys in the lock and stepped inside. I followed quietly behind him. However, as soon as I entered, something halted my steps. The walls were white and sooted, the windows devoid of curtains. A plain wooden dining table with two chairs surrounded it, and there were no tapestries, wall hangings, or paintings adorning the walls. An aura of emptiness enveloped me, and Arthur noticed my hesitation.

"Why have you stopped there? Come in, please," he urged.

Forcing my steps forward, I couldn't help but notice a doorless kitchen giving a glimpse of the inside. There was only one functional appliance—the refrigerator. It seemed like he didn't cook often, as the stove appeared untouched for ages. Then, my gaze landed on the counter, where two empty wine glasses sat.

"Do you drink regularly?" I inquired as Arthur went into the kitchen, presumably to fetch something for me to eat or drink.

"No, just on weekends, sometimes," came his muffled response from inside.

I hummed in acknowledgment, surveying the surroundings while waiting for him to return.

I rubbed my eyes, half expecting the bleak surroundings to vanish like a mirage. How could a doctor live in a place like this? No colors, paintings, pictures, or curtains—seriously?

He returned with two glasses filled with apple juice, and I thanked him when he offered one to me. As we sat in silence, I couldn't help but notice his gaze lingering on me from above the rim of his glass, while I glanced at him a couple of times.

"So, you live alone? I mean, where's your family?" I asked, attempting to break the silence.

"Mama left us when I was in college. Dad remarried, and I shifted here. We meet sometimes, on special occasions," he explained briefly.

My curiosity about the wine glasses persisted, urging me to ask, despite feeling it was too personal. But my intuition pushed me into the third embarrassing moment of the day.

"Had someone over last night?" I said, gesturing towards the glasses, trying to keep it light.

He followed my gesture, then looked back at me. I felt as if he gave me a disgusted look, though I couldn't be sure if it was my imagination.

After a moment of silence, he stood up, facing the kitchen wall, and suggested I watch TV until Carl arrived.

I mentally berated myself for asking such a stupid question. Why had I thought it was appropriate? What was wrong with me today?

Enough embarrassment for one day, I told myself as I sat on the couch and turned on the TV. Thankfully, he didn't join me in the living room, sparing me further confrontation.

Feeling humiliated and ashamed, I texted Carl, eager for his arrival so I could leave. When Arthur returned with tea, my heart nearly stopped.

Feeling embarrassed, I asked Arthur about the wine glasses, regretting the personal question. His reaction made me feel humiliated. Waiting for Carl, I texted him to hurry. When Arthur returned with tea, my heart raced, dreading further awkwardness in his presence.

Arthur's response to my inquiry left me feeling exposed. Texting Carl for rescue, I awaited his arrival anxiously. When Arthur returned with tea, tension hung heavy in the air, my discomfort palpable.