16 Unification Part 3
Noe stumbles across the sky parlor, is nearly thrown down a flight of stairs, and lands on the floor of the building's central elevator. Feng Mian and Rosalind oversee his earned mistreatment. Smoothly, the elevator doors hush to a close and the weightlessness of descent passes through their stomachs, slanting their sense of gravity. Noe stands.
Under the cover of tense silence, they watch the floor levels blink: One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight. Having assumed the ride would continue on without any disturbances, their eyes widen when the container slurs to a halt.
DING.
Face to face with the same mortals whom they realize rejected them during their time on Earth, the three Ephrenes shrink into themselves, self-consciousness creeping in. Five business women and men look on in disinterest, filtering in. Instinctually, the three have cloaked themselves in invisibility.
The doors immediately shut, trapping the three Ephrenes with the societal sharks.
Buttered conversation about rapid urban development plans for the outer suburbs and the capital that shall come from it trickles into their ears. However, the businessmen fail to mention the hundreds of thousands of people Noe knows will become homeless as a result; their lack of land leases being a point of vulnerability to be speared.
Ninety-seven, ninety-six, ... , eighty-nine.
DING.
The businessmen exit and ten bodyguards surround them. Accusatory glances shot at the men rebound off of their bodyguards' domineering blue suits; colored as to imitate the watchful eye of the sky. Long legs escort them down the hall. The sight disappears as the elevator closes just the same.
Eighty-eight, eighty-seven, ... , thirty-six. These floors must be working so hard that they have not even enough time to travel between stories.
DING.
A swarm of people drones into the small elevator, crushing each other to fit in. Noe's ribs are imploded by a small lady's elbow while a well-built man cages Rosalind beneath his fiery red armpit, arm propped on the wall she is leaning against to expose his glorious mass of untrimmed locks. Only Feng Mian is spared, emotionally influencing those around her to keep a safe distance apart.
The elevator falls again. This time, multiple stops are made with individuals who appear to be filing complaints or seeking urgent assistance continuously cycling in and out. This must be a law firm, ready to help those in need.
But, no matter how many stops they make, they still reach ground floor.
"I hope your soulmate is an ugly girl with bad breath," Rosalind curses Noe as they make their escape from the depths of commute travel.
Noe ponders. "Quite the opposite actually," a smile lingers on his face as he speeds up, almost running out of the building.
"Let's do this," Feng Mian jogs behind him, anger is almost fully dissolved.
Rosalind trudges along.
Noe breaks out into a sprint, weaving around the clustered constructions and vaulting over traffic roads. He feels it, the Veren coursing through his veins that burns him forward.
His heart drums to the rhythm of expectations to be met.
Gradually, a warmth spreads within - the feeling of sweet nectar drawing near to a starved man's mouth taking over.
His feet propel him forward so fast that they seem to not touch the ground. Rosalind and Feng Mian are long left behind.
From among the sea of cement, window panes, and eyes that judge yet cannot see, a bright patch of green dots his vision. By the nudge of the sun, Westville Central Park shines magnificently.
Burts of indescribable intensity and irrevocable happiness cascade through him.
Is it the running that is causing him to inhale so deeply?
Noe cannot tell. He only wishes to be within arms reach of Mr. Henderson, shield him from all harm, do anything to give him the best world of all the worlds. Smoke rises from his ears. His teeth clench, nostrils flaring in desperation, seconds burning away his sanity until finally, he sees him.
He halts.
A shiver passes down Noe's spine.
Across the mildewed park, Mr. Henderson stands within an ice-cream truck, possibly the last of its kind, caramel skin merging into sunlight. Noe's breath lodges in his throat. The usual brown glasses dab Mr. Henderson's nose. Noe wishes he was those glasses.
Piece by piece, Noe checks the light beating of Mr. Henderson's heart for any abnormalities, the placement of Mr. Henderson's auburn hair restrained by a pink hairband, and the mole beneath his nose.
A majestic smile spreads across Mr. Henderson's face - Noe's relief - as he looks upon a child and places a cone within their outstretched arms. It smells like icy pistachio.
"Of mint and honey, no sweetness can compare but, fair pistachio," Mr. Henderson haikus. The small child's eyes are marvelous with wonder. "Enjoy your ice-cream," Mr. Henderson waves as the boy sprints across the park and joins his dad. His father pats him on the back and they bounce across the street. Aside from them, the park has only the supple grass to keep in its company.
Mr. Henderson leans back and Noe's eyes involuntarily trail the tightening of his long pink and green apron across his chest. An unfamiliar jolt passes through his heart. It's as if Mr. Henderson's being is gilded by ephemeral light, a beacon of graciousness within the valley of des-
"THERE YOU ARE!" Rosalind gushes onto the scene, subsequently breaking the tranquil aurora.
"You ran so fast," Feng Mian comments, astounded.
Neither of them appear winded from all their jetting around like headless chickens.
Without a word, Noe continues to observe Mr. Henderson whose long fingers tap, tap, tap, the counter of his stand, ice-cream lined up in front of his waist.
"Hold up, I know that look," Rosalind's face comes precariously close to Noe's. "I know that stare." She proceeds to trace Noe's pointed gaze, looks at Mr. Henderson then back at Noe. "Wait a minute," she repeats the same action.
Feng Mian worries that Rosalind has completely lost it when she continues to stare back and forth; as if expecting either of the two men to grow a third eye.
"Your soulmate is... a man?!" Rosalind shrieks.
"Does he not look like one? Isn't yours a man too?" Noe asks, momentarily casting a side eye at her.
"Yeah, but that's different," Rosalind retorts.
Feng Mian blinks. "What's different about it?"
"Just that, you know, I'm, and he's, and these two are," Rosalind pushes her palms together in appeal to Feng Mian or Noe to see her reasoning, but is met with indifference. "You know what? Forget it."
As they continue to look over Mr. Henderson, skidding tires seep into the atmosphere. Car doors violently slam shut.
A minute later, "Daddy!" the little boy cries from across the road. His ice cream is melting on the ground. Four men and a woman lumber away from the sight after having knocked into him.
They do not wait for the pedestrian crossing to turn green; instead jaywalking and flipping off any car which dare approach them. Noe feels Mr. Henderson's heart-rate rise. He pushes his glasses up and drums faster upon the counter, hunching his shoulders.
"Ey, Danny boy!" the peace of the morning fragments into sharp shards.
"I heard you lost your job teaching at that mental asylum of a school. Are you finally coming back to us after all these years?" the gangsters saunter across the park.
Once reaching Mr. Henderson's truck, one kicks the brightly painted door open and they all file in. Mr. Henderson keeps his chin tucked into his chest. As they surround him, his fingers continue to tap.
Another encases Mr. Henderson under his arm, "That's what happens when you try and go against the big guys. You get squashed. But don't worry, we'll always accept you back."
"I don't imagine you make much bucks working with this dump," the woman kicks the side of his truck. "Noone even comes to the park anyways; say it darkens the complexion."
"And what's all this pink and green garbage?" another asks, fingering Mr. Henderson's hairband.
Noe does not know the name of the sleek car they skidded there in, only that he wishes to commit vandalism for the first time in his life.
"Come back to us, Daniel," she sits on his counter, popping her greasy bubblegum.
The man with his shoulder imprisoning Mr. Hederson's own ferments, "You know the world has no place for people like us aside from with each other."
"People like whom?" Mr. Henderson interjects, removing himself from his narrative.
"Come on, don't be like that," the man whines. "It was ONE kid sixteen years ago and I already served time!"
Venom clothes Mr. Henderson's voice as he thrusts his head to look at the man. "Did you know that kid ended up with ASD?" Mr. Henderson questions.
"What's ASD," the man chuckles.
"Autism."
"Stop bringing up the past already."
"Don't you feel something, anything at all?"
"Shut up."
"Yo, guys. Maybe we should change the topic," the one farthest away suggests when seeing the man's eyes darken. He is notorious for his quick fuse.
Mr. Henderson continues, "Guilt. That's what you feel. And it's slithering down your throat like a snake."
"I told you to shut up!" Expectedly roaring into a rage, the man steps a pace away, whips his arm above their heads and cracks down.
Meeting an immovable force, its motion ceases a centimetre away from Mr. Henderson's scolding glare. A rope pulling at iron steel, the man tries to yank his hand out of Noe's grasp.
"Noe?" Mr. Henderson's tapping cuts off.
--
Haiku:
A poem containing three lines with five, seven, and five syllables each in that order.
Westville Central Park:
The only patch of greenery, aside from the unusual blotch of forest sprawled here and there, in Westville.
