Dead

Leah listened with a bored expression as the professor concluded his lecture. Her eyes glazed over, appearing to look at the projector, when in fact she was anywhere but here

“That’s all for today. Make sure you come to get your individual topic for the seminar.” That being said, the entire class was free to leave. Leah stood up and silently packed her bag. A satchel that really needed to be changed. Olivia would have countered, which made Leah frown.

Olivia. She hadn’t called since five days ago when she'd slept over at her place. Leah was sure she still hadn’t gotten over the news, well, who could? The poor girl had had the shock of her life. But then, Olivia had assured her she was okay.

“I’m fine, “ she said while offering that smile she offered whenever she didn’t want to be bothered.

Leah had taken her word for it, letting her leave the following morning. But two days and no call, she started to worry. That was when she decided to place the call herself and much to her dismay, it went straight to voicemail. Leah hadn’t thought much of it. She had shrugged it off, going with excuse that her friend was huddled in a corner of her room, getting the peace and quiet she deserved. School had been hella hectic. The semester exams were around the corner and Leah had been buried in a hell load of books and assignment. This was Psychology for fusckssake. Her ability to get into law school depended on her success now. She didn’t dare blow it up.

Now as she thought about it, she rued not checking up on Olivia. Who knows what she was up to. Had she cleaned the apartment, had she done her laundry, and her dad. That one, had she finally seen him or gotten wind of his whereabouts? Clearly, if any of those had happened, Olivia wouldn’t have kept her in the dark. Never.

Leah went straight to the coffee shop just outside the campus. She got two orders of latte and biscuit. Olivia's undoing.

She would drop by at Olivia's. Just to make sure everything was okay.

Heavens! Hope she's okay. Unwittingly, she looked up at the sky and when the sun smiled fiercely at her, she was relieved. Olivia was okay.

***

After family, pets were the best thing that happened to you. Lyons knew this, which was why he fell deep in sadness when his pit-bull died. Jake as he was called was dear to him. Always gave him a reason to want to get back home as soon as the clock said 4. They would go on long walks in the thick woods, would camp, would lounge on the couch and catch a couple of TV shows. Jake had become a buddy if not a brother.

With his passing, Lyons didn’t see any reason to live again. It was that bad. If he wasn't at work—because really, he was the CEO and wouldn’t risk watching the company go bankrupt or anything—he was in his room. At the balcony, staring off at the meadow. He would be reminded of the times he shared with Jake. Such times he was sure he might never have with anyone.

A knock came to the door, accompanied by a voice.

“Lyons? Son, it's been three days now.” The knock came again, but he made no attempt to leave his spot. Eventually, the person realised the door wasn’t locked.

Lyons heard the door squeal open and shut. He heard her sigh, as she drew close.

“Jake meant so much to you, I know. But you’re being to hard on yourself.” She sat beside him, placing her arm on his shoulder, drawing him to her motherly bosom.

“There won’t be anyone to replace him, I know. But sometimes we have to let go of the past. It only hurts us more.”

Lyons shut his eyes. When he opened them, he landed his gaze to her. The woman offered a knowing smile. Without wasting time, she pulled him to a hug.

Lyons nested in her embrace for a while before suddenly remembering he was a grown man. He pulled away.

“You shouldn’t be treating me like a toddler, Mom. I'm 24.”

“And are the CEO of one of the biggest skin care line in the country, I know. But you still call me Mom.” She smiled. “So as long as that remains a fact, I’ll keep treating you like my baby.”

Lyons rolled his eyes, further bolstering the woman's point.

“Anyways, Cher's been ringing me since heavens knows when. You’re coming, aren’t ya?”

“Huh?”

His mother rolled her eyes and lets out a sigh. “Cher's leading the cheer squad.”

When his blank expression was still there, she said. “The soccer game against Lorraine’s High? Does that ring a bell?”

Just then, his brain got reset. “Oh. Shit.” How could he forget? Cher had been talking about it for as long as he could remember. And he made a solemn promise that he would attend. “Fuck, that’s true.”

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Before he could counter, she said. “You coming?”

Even though he preferred lying in bed, he had promised Cher. And real siblings didn’t break promises. “Sure. Why not?”

“Excellent. Lemme get ready.” She left the room, closing the door gently behind her.

Lyons sighed. Man, he didn’t plan on going anywhere, let alone this late in the evening. But then, enough with the dull moments. He should clear his head. The football game was just the right way he would do that.

***

Suffice it to say that Lyons was no fan of soccer. Not since the last couple of years. He knew this when he climbed into his Jaguar, knew this when he and his mother dropped by at the candy floss stall nearby, knew this when he took his seat just like the hundred and something spectators in the field.

He knew all this, get he stayed back because this was for Cher. But with no goal scored by either team, he was transcending into boredom. One that made time appear a million times slower.

At the middle of the second half, still with no goal scored, he took that as a cue to get some fresh air. He told his mom he had a client he wanted to meet and he sure as hell knew she wouldn’t buy it. However, before she could protest, Lyons was making his way out of the row, down to the exit.

It was April, the trees were beginning to blossom, so was the weather. The air was cool, mild to his skin. It made him crave for some coffee really bad.

He didn’t use his car. He figured it wasn’t necessary. Surely, there was a coffee shop not too far away from here. And so, he walked, appreciating the breeze that caressed his face.

He soon made his stop at a small shop. Pop's and Mom's. Typical, he thought. He pushed the door open and got in, made his order and took a seat at a booth beside the window. There was a TV, displaying the day's news.

“Here’s your coffee, sir.”

He smiled at the waiter, took the drink from him and stared at the TV. He loved his coffee black without milk, but with lost of sugar. It kept him alert, agile, always on the go.

He sipped from the cup gently, talking care not to scald his tongue. The watched the news absentmindedly.

“You here for the games, boy?”

Lyons glanced at the shop owner. A man in his seventies or so. Lyons followed the man's gaze to the shirt he had on. Cher had given it to him to be sure he was going to attend.

Lyons opened his mouth to speak, but the old man cut him off with a gasp.

“Sweet fucker of shits, you're a Fredrickson!”

Lyons wasn’t sure how to react to that, but he smiled. “I guess.”

“How did I not know?” He hobbled closer. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“It sure is. And what a nice place you've got.”

The old man scoffed as if Lyons had said the impossible. “Do you like your coffee? Hope it’s not too hot. Hope it tastes just fine.”

Lyons chuckled. He couldn’t help himself. “Sir, you shouldn’t worry yourself to sickness. The coffee is just how I love it.”

The man smiled.

Lyons would have gone on to say some other thing if not for the voice of the news anchor.

“The body of a man discovered two days ago has been identified. He's said to have gone by the name Pete Andre Haynes…”

Instantly, Lyons coughed out his coffee. His eyes wide open.

“Are you okay, son?”

“…Recall earlier that the body of Haynes was found crammed in a chimney at a building recently put out for sale. Police says it is investigating…”

Pete Haynes. Dead? He couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t have let it bother him, ‘cause other people went by the name. Pete Haynes. Hadn’t it been for the picture of the middle age man he knew inserted at the left corner of the screen, he wouldn’t have fretted.

This was true. As clear as the sky. Pete Haynes was dead.

His throat became dry. An attempt to swallow was going to hurt like crazy. Without blinking an eye, Lyons rose from his seat, tossed a wad of cash to the old man and sped away.