The Foreigner

I was riding a cab. I held my bag and the brown legal envelope containing the documents. I am trying not to panic as I look outside. It was quiet within the vehicle, which I preferred instead of listening to a random radio station. The driver is old and does not mind the silence either. 

Using my Sony Ericsson phone, I discreetly took a shot of the plate number painted at the side of the door just in case something happened. It was a precaution taught to me by an officemate. I also prepared to pay the exact amount needed by the driver to avoid prolonging my exit.

But it is still terrifying for me.

I look at the clear sky and hope the ride is over.

We entered a subdivision. The guard at the main gate asked for my ID, but he did not take it. He took the license of the driver instead. After a few turns, we found the house. 

I paid the driver and gathered my shoulder bag and envelope.

I clipped our company ID on my jacket. 

We stopped at a tall gate made of thick wood with a black metal frame. I got out of the cab and stared at it. There is nothing much to see. The tall gate covered what was behind it.

I am not sure if the house is big. From where I stood, I really could not see anything else. The unpainted walls seemed to have been standing there decades ago. 

The cab left right away. I hesitated to call it out because I was unsure how long Mr. Sanchez would read and sign the legal documents. The worst thing that could happen is that my delivery would be pointless. It could happen if the document has revisions, which must be seen by an attorney and approved by our client and the company. 

Anyway, I walked near the smaller gate and tried to peek inside. But the small cracks in the wood and the small space between the metal frame and the wall, where the gates are attached, do not offer enough view.

I tried knocking. 

The gate moves. It was open all along.

I push it slowly. 

It felt wrong to enter a house without permission. But I need to run this errand as quickly as possible. I must get back to our office in time to give the signed documents. It was already ten in the morning. I could be back at the office by noon. I thought of which coffee shop to go to as I walked in. Usually, I prefer hanging out in a coffee shop during my lunch break.

But my thoughts vanished as I saw what was inside near the gates.

I walked through a neglected garden. Most trees offer shade. But some plants are dried, almost dying. I never thought this was the type of place Mr. Sanchez would prefer. But maybe he inherited the house because it looks old, too. 

I stopped when I noticed someone standing on the porch. I was surprised by the appearance of the man standing. He looks out of the ordinary. If he just stood there, I might think what I was seeing was not a human being. He is also looking in my direction because I caught his attention. He seemed surprised, too.

He is wearing long sleeves and pants, maybe black fitted jeans. I am unsure since he was still a few feet away from me. 

A foreigner?

I am guessing Mr. Sanchez has some foreigners in his house. Maybe that was why he could not go to the office today.

"You! How did you get in here?!" he said.

His voice is clear enough for me to hear. But he spoke as if somebody was still sleeping in the house. He did not want to cause a disturbance.

I stood frozen. The foreigner seemed shocked to see an outsider come into the house. Well, it was understandable because I am, after all, seen as a trespasser. He was alerted by my presence. I knew he also needed a quick response to avoid misunderstanding the situation.

"I am here to—"

He walked fast towards me. He was already near me before I finished my sentence. It felt awkward to see him up close. 

He was as white as the mannequins I often stare at in the mall. But his hair is blond. His blue eyes stare at me as if he is studying me. It does not feel good. I swear. And it does not help that no one else is around to confirm what I am seeing.

For all I know, I might be hallucinating.

His features were striking.

But he was real. And he was still staring at me.

His skin looks flawless. The white polo he was wearing was revealing a bit of his chest. 

Anyway, whatever. I was uncomfortable with the way he was staring at me. He does not even move or blink.

And we look stupid standing there. 

But then he suddenly smiled and spoke to me.

"Were you sent by one of those people?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Those people? Does he mean the office? 

That was a weird way to address the coworkers of Mr. Sanchez. Well, I have no idea if he is a family member or just a guest of Mr. Sanchez. So I could not process my thoughts well.

He is still staring at me. I tried staring back, yet his blue eyes were hypnotizing.

Was it only the sunlight causing that effect? Or did his stare make me feel like he was looking into my soul?

"You're weird." 

"Excuse me?"

If I could be blunt, I would tell him he is the one who looks weird. 

"I don't know how you got in. You are on private property."

"Oh, no. I am not lost. I am here to see—"

We both hear some footsteps coming from inside the house.

I looked and expected to see someone coming out. But before I could see who it was, I got dragged by the foreigner. He grabbed my shoulder and led me somewhere.

He seemed terrified as we ran towards a smaller house at the side of the main house.

"Wait! Why are we—"

"Shh! Quiet!" he said while we were running.

He tried not to make too much noise as he opened the door. Once inside, I saw it was a storage area meant for garage supplies. Or probably just a place to dump things that are no longer needed.

"I swear, I'm not going to harm you. And I, uh, I know it's hard to believe. But I am a nice person." 

He was almost whispering now. But he also seemed awkward as he looked sideways, back to where we were, I supposed.

Honestly, I stood there frozen because two things were quickly happening.

One, I felt like a stray cat grabbed by someone to throw away somewhere.

Two, I suddenly felt like there was something wrong with the situation.

I avoid those who claim they are someone nice. Also, I suddenly had this idea that either the person I was with was crazy or a psycho.

We both ducked when we heard something. It was purely instinct. What was out there might be more dangerous than the one I was with. We remained almost seated on the untidy floor to avoid giving our location to whoever was chasing the foreigner.

I found the situation ridiculous. Unbelievable. It is not something I should be involved in.

But I kept quiet. The foreigner looked scared. And seeing someone more terrified than me calms me down a bit. I also look around to misdirect my mind from panicking.

By the look of the place, it remained untouched. Most areas are dusty. But it was still in good shape. 

As I looked around, I eventually looked down and gasped when I saw his feet. 

He was barefoot.

What the hell?!

"Ugh… my feet hurt," he said as if he was about to cry. "I think I stepped on some small rocks. Oh, shit. I am bleeding."

"Where are your shoes?" 

"I left it in the house."

Obviously. "Why?"

"I was trying not to make a sound."

"So you're escaping?"

"Yes."

"From this house?"

Now I feel like I am talking to a little brat.

But now he was speechless. He looks unsure whether to tell me the details or not. And because of that prolonged silence, I got pissed. 

I am wasting my time here. Why am I even hiding? 

"Sorry. But whatever your problem is, I cannot help you. I still have something important to do." 

"Like what?"

"I needed to have these documents signed before lunchtime."

"I'm sorry if I am wasting your time."

I felt awkward hearing him say what I just thought earlier. 

"It was fine. You do not need to feel awkward. I did drag you into this."

I looked away. My expressions are way too easy to read. It happens when I am already panicking. And it is embarrassing when a stranger points it out.

Well, I guess I can leave now.

"You cannot leave yet."

"Eh?"

"You will be in trouble if you get out of here," he said. 

He looks at me seriously. It was odd. He guessed what I was about to do even though I did not move to stand.

I was confused as I stared at him.

And why would I be in trouble? Is this guy crazy?

"No, I'm not."

"What?"

I was confused about where our conversation was going.

"You don't need to say it out loud," he answered. 

Shit. My thoughts are way too obvious on my face.

"No, they're not. You still look at me as if you're only staring at a stranger."

"Then how did you—" 

"I just happened to be someone who can read people's minds."