4. Interrogation

 
4.
 
Interrogation
 
 
As we entered the bakery, I was happy to see that my ignominious sidewalk drama hadn’t prolonged any unnecessary attention. Peter hardly glanced at us and the two old ladies that were at the counter, one including the blue haired old woman that hovered over my despicable unconscious body, didn’t even notice our entrance.
I started toward the counter where Peter stood, but Adam placed his hand to the small of my back, which felt like a therapeutic heating pad that induced electric tingles up my spine, and geared me past the dessert showcase to the seating area at the far south of the bakery. There were five, small, white tables and he guided me to sit at the last one near the far wall.
 “Why don’t you have a seat while I get your brownie,” I heard him say, and his footsteps descended behind me.
I had never been back here before as I always take my treat home with me. It was warm and very secluded from the business in front, and the smell of freshly baked goodies was pungent in the air. I rested my hand on the back of the chair and looked back at the counter; Adam was standing patiently behind the two old women with his hands buried in the front pockets of his worn out jeans; he looked debonair like he was in the middle of a magazine cover shoot. A sigh escaped my mouth as his masculine beauty affected my internal temperature to rise to a near dangerous height of eruption. My lungs worked overtime pushing the hot air out in short gasps as I watched him shift his weight from one leg to the other; I wonder what thoughts were running through his mind, his face was emotionless, I couldn’t figure out his mood; the patience of getting to know him grew thinner and another sigh escaped my mouth and, as if he heard me, he turned and gave a smouldering crooked smile making my knees wobble. I gripped the chair tighter and returned a wavering smile.
My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath; my body felt like a sumo wrestler’s with toothpick sized legs. I flopped my heavy weight on the chair, which was conveniently on the left side of the table facing the wall; it was better if I couldn’t see him right now. I stared at the painting that decorated the wall while I fought with my lungs to control my breathing. It was a beautiful interpretation of Paris in the summer. There were two people, a man and a woman, sitting on a red and white chequered print table cloth enjoying a picnic in the park and watching a breathtaking view of the Eiffel tower in the foreground. The sight of their elated faces made the illusion of Adam and me seem realistic. What was I thinking? I should definitely check myself into an insane asylum.
I shut my eyes tight, my arms around my stomach. The panic was catching up with me; I felt sick. I rested my head on the table; the cool linoleum helped a little, the queasiness was settling to the pit of my stomach. Then I heard the screech as the chair across the table dragged on the terrazzo floor.  
 “Hey are you okay?” He touched my arm with his fingertips and the sensation caused the almost invisible hairs to stand at attention. My stomach churned as the panic rose from the depths of my stomach again. I didn’t want to talk, I was afraid that I would throw up. Oh God, please don’t let him see me throw up! I kept my head on the table, my cold and sweaty palms on my lap catching the hot air as rapid breaths escaped my lungs.
 “Iris?” The sound of my name, as he said it, made me lightheaded. If this continues I may really need to be hospitalised. I breathed out deeply and dug out as much courage as I could. I sat up keeping my head down. I couldn’t look into his eyes; not yet. Instead my eyes found his hands; they were resting on top a flat square white box, his long lean fingers holding a tea saucer that carried my brownie.
 “Whew, I thought you fainted again,” I heard him say. “How are you feeling?” He bent down to look at my face, but I lowered my head further, my chin grazed my chest now.
 “I think I’m okay; just a little dizzy.” I forced to whisper this understatement.
 “Hey Peter, could I get a bottled water?” His voice ringed in the quiet causing my nerves to tremor. I saw his hand pointing to me and I heard the refrigerator door open and close. Seconds later, a pair of shuffling feet approached the table, and a Dasani bottle was placed in front of me. Adam took it and I could hear the crack as the seal was broken. He rested it back in front of me with a blue bendy straw sticking out of the cavity and said,  “Drink.”
 “Thank you,” I said my voice sounding thick. As I began to drink, the water flowed past my throat refreshing every inch of my heated chest. I didn’t realise how thirsty I was. I drank almost the entire bottle without stopping. When I was finished, I felt invigorated. The nausea had evaporated and I could finally breathe freely, but my bedazzled brain still couldn’t absorb the fact that he was sitting across from me.
 “Better?” he asked. I looked up slowly, giving my heart warning before my eyes met his. Butterflies tickled my stomach as I saw his face again. He smiled and the butterflies fluttered violently causing blood to flush my face.
 “Much,” I replied softly.
He handed me the white saucer. I inhaled the chocolaty goodness, then pinched a piece of my brownie and placed it into my mouth. The sweet taste was comforting; it brought me back down to earth. Then a familiar smell tickled my senses; pizza? I looked across the table and saw that the white box was opened, and he was pulling out a slice of pie. He took a bite and placed it back into the box.
 “Where did that come from?” I asked, the curiosity silencing my anxiety. I knew that Roma’s didn’t make pizza.
 “Peter makes it for me,” he said. I looked at him with wide eyes. He answered my unspoken question. “When the craving hits, I usually take the hour and a half long drive to his father’s place down town,” he continued. “But when I told Peter this, he insisted that he can make the pies just as good as his father does, and he also made a good point that it was more convenient to come here instead, since he was just a half hour away from my apartment.” I watched as he took another bite of his pizza, chewed, then swallowed. He leaned in towards me, his voice a mere whisper. My heart spiralled in my chest. “I think it has to do more with the feud between him and his father, than my convenience though.”
My eyebrows knitted together. “I didn’t know Peter had a feud with his father,” I said, my voice as low as his. He nodded and took a sip of his coke, which I only noticed was on the table when he picked it up; then he replied.
 “I don’t know all the details, but one day, I casually asked Peter why he wasn’t involved in his father’s business, he shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something angrily in Italian, so I let it go. But, a couple of weeks ago, I overheard a conversation between him and his girlfriend Eliza; she was pleading with him to go talk to his father. Apparently he recently asked her to marry him but she insisted on his family knowing.” He paused to take another sip of his coke. “He said that he was never confronting that good for nothing again…” he continued “…not until he accepts him for who he is and what he does. It seems his father wanted him to become something more than what he is; a baker.”
 I looked up at Peter; he was icing a cake and doing a terrible job as he was squeezing the pastry bag a little too tight; his face was painted with frustration, his eyes filled with worry. Eliza walked out of the back room, a tray of freshly baked cupcakes in her hands. Her red hair was tied up in a tight bun, her face was impassive. I caught a glimpse of her left hand as she placed the cupcakes in the glass showcase, there was no ring. No wonder Peter had dark circles under his eyes; it looks like he was too stressed to sleep, and from the tension between him and Eliza, I don’t think there was going to be a wedding in the near future.
 ​Pity engulfed me as I saw the pain in Peter’s eyes, I turned away and broke off another piece of brownie and placed it into my mouth. Then, two short musical beeps startled me and I jumped in my seat. I looked up to see Adam grinning as he turned to his side trying to pull something out of his front pocket.
“What?” I asked. My eyebrows contracted as I smiled nervously.
“Nothing,” he said and he shook his head, his grin, a wide smile now.
The beeping grew louder as he pulled out his cell-phone; he glanced at the caller ID and with a quiet groan, he flipped it open and put it to his ear.
   “Hello,” he said his voice smooth, a little louder than a whisper. “I’m good man. How’s everything with you?” He sat there listening to the person on the other end of the call, his eyes on the pizza in front of him. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he continued after a few seconds of silence. He took a sip of his coke and his eyes found mine again. I flashed a kind smile and he returned a weary one. I dropped my head, retracting from his gaze and found interest in my hands instead.
   “Yeah, I remember… its Saturday right? Mmhm… what time again? Okay… yeah I think she’ll be there.” My attention was caught by the word she, my eyebrows raised involuntarily and I pressed my lips together hoping he didn’t see my reaction.
   “I have an audition tomorrow at two, well you already know that, and the photo shoot is at five I think…” he continued. “… I have to give Abril a call, but, I think I’m free after that. Actually a bunch of us were planning to meet up at Cedric’s… the cast I mean. Ha ha…you know me, once I taste it, it becomes morphine and I can’t get enough.”
My head was pulled up by an invisible string; my eyes wide. I knew Cedric’s vaguely well, it’s a pub; very quaint and usually filled with thirty-something’s, it’s very intimidating, and whenever I pass by, which is not very often, there are always these type of girls dressed in exaggeratedly short, tight fitted dresses and knee high boots accompanied by at least one man on each arm, giggling and flaunting liquor like cotton candy in a three year olds hand; and, so, I never go there. But from his words, my intuitions told me he was very familiar; that didn’t appeal to me very much. I dropped my head quickly again, when I saw his eyes drifting to my direction.
 “Mmhm…Dean, calm down…yes of course I’ll be at the meeting, I purposefully left that out for my amusement.” He laughed wickedly, but the sound made my knees tremble. “Your panic is so predictable.” He went on. “Okaaay, I’ll see you bright and early in the morning, eight o’clock sharp. I mean it…I’ll be there… k, bye.” I heard the phone snap shut and it was my signal that it was safe to look up. “Sorry about that,” he said. I shook my head fervently.  
 “No, it’s fine.”
 “That was my agent. He could be a little annoying sometimes. He’s like my second mother,” he said, a faint smile appearing, then fading.  
 “Oh,” was all I could say. I didn’t want to be too nosy. He took a slice of pizza out of the box and began to eat. This gave me a chance to finish my brownie. After two pizza slices and five minutes of awkward silence and stolen glances, I had finished my brownie. He pushed the pizza box to the side and folded his arms on the table, leaning in ever so slightly. His masculine face was soft and adorable now. His olive eyes narrowed, scrutinising me. I lost my breath again and hiccoughed when it resurfaced. He snickered.
 “So… I know you love chocolate and I assume you like to read, because not everyone carries around a novel in their bag, and you get startled at every little noise, and your name is Iris… what else can you tell me about yourself. His eyes were penetrating. My heart jumped into my throat and I lost all train of thought. I couldn’t believe he was interested in me, my life is so boring compared to his sex, drugs and rock and roll lifestyle.
 “Um…well, what would you like to know?” I said my voice cracking with every word. His hand was propped beneath his chin now, his index finger touching his bottom lip. I could feel my heart beat throbbing at my temples.
   “Where are you from originally? You have an unfamiliar accent.” His voice was soft, slow, somewhat musical. I pressed my lips together, swallowing. There was nothing, my mouth went dry; I took a sip of my water all the while fighting with my brain to choose wise words. Then it all came out in one droning, garbled story.
 “I was born in Trinidad and I lived fifteen years of my life there, then after my father was offered a better, higher paying job, we moved to New York. I lived in Bay Ridge with my parents for seven years. I finished school, then went on to study creative writing during that time. After two years, I received my diploma and went on to work at a library. During the day I stacked books, during the night I wrote them. Then, after a year and a half of rejection, finally, my first children’s book was published; I was ecstatic, and I realised I found a career in writing. So I continued down that path and I now have four books under my belt. They are not widely popular, but they pay the bills…” Adam was enveloped in my words; he didn’t take his eyes off me, not even to look up when Eliza dropped a series of pans in the back room. But he laughed when I almost jumped out of my seat at the noise.
 “... Living with my parents was very fulfilling,” I continued. “I love them to death, but I craved independence. My editor and my agent both lived in England and, since I was a child I’ve always wanted to live here. So with the help of my editor I found a place and moved here a couple years ago. My parent’s cried buckets, but they finally got over it. They come to visit me from time to time, and we spend the holidays together.”
As I finished with my boring life story, editing out the un-necessaries of course, I waited for the questions. He breathed out deeply and ran his tongue over his lower lip. The lion purred and I breathed out deeply.
 “Wow…so Trinidad, what was that like? Living there I mean,” he said after a few long tense seconds of intense scrutiny. His eyes heated my face like a flame to metal; I was self conscious of every move; even my blinking was off.
“Um… it was great. I loved it there. It’s a very small island, so in a way it was secluded from the rest of the world, which was comforting. The people were very warm and so was the climate, which I yearn for sometimes…” He smiled crookedly and I blushed and stared at the empty white saucer in front of me; I could still feel his eyes on me, but the heat dissipated a little and it was easier to talk.  “…it’s so cold here, even during the summer, the weather is nothing like Trinidad’s,” I went on. “There are some similarities though, like the architectural landscape, some of the old buildings look so familiar to the ones back home.” I flinched at the word home, I haven’t called Trinidad that since I lived there. Nostalgia spread through me and I fought back my tears.  
 “There are also the breathtakingly beautiful beaches, flora, and Carnival…” I continued.    
 “It’s the most colourful, energetic and musical experience. And the food… you can’t get that anywhere else. There are imitations of course, but nothing compares to the real thing, so I have to cook, whatever I crave, myself.
 “Then, there’s the one person I miss the most; my grandmother. I was very close to her, I hated leaving her but… I had to follow the direction my life was heading and also my parents dragged me along with them. I visited her once since I moved here though. I didn’t tell her I was coming, so she almost dropped to the floor when she saw me and I thought her tears would never stop flowing.”
I looked at my hands now, ensuring that he couldn’t see my face as my grandmother’s angelic visage distracted my thoughts. I haven’t spoken of her in what seemed like forever; it ached to the core of my bones to think of her. Water filled my eyes again, but this time one drop escaped its wall and streamed down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly and clenched my teeth as I fought the pain. I breathed out deeply and the present floated into view again.
 ​Regaining my composure, I looked up at Adam. “And…that’s about it,” my voice sounded weak and drained. I grabbed the water bottle, tilted it a little and forced the remaining drops out with a giant slurp; the sound troubled the quiet like rolling thunder. I kept my head down to hide my embarrassment.
The door bell jingled breaking the quiet once more and took me off the hook of shame; it gave me the opportunity to look at him again. Adam leaned back in his chair closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his russet locks. Seeing his face moving, than a captured expression on my computer screen was uncanny but became a bit easier now that there was a certain familiarity; it was remarkably easy talking to him. I never once thought I would have been able to get a word out in his presence, but I had been rambling on like a six year old and he listened tentatively to every tedious word.
As he opened his eyes and brought his hand back down to the table, he said nothing, he just stared into my eyes. But this time it was different, it was piercing, I felt as though he could see into my soul and, like a reflex, my heart jump started in my chest and revved loudly; I swear Peter must be hearing it. The seat suddenly became uncomfortable as it seems I was putting on a one man show. Boiling blood rushed to my face, as my chest rose and fell; I hated that he had this power over me. He bit his lower lip and gave a sly smile. Oh God what are you doing to me? My chest rose again and I had to break or I would completely lose it and jump over the table, kiss him, then run like crazy, crashing through the glass door and fleeing to a country where crazy people live freely; that’ll sure provide Peter with his daily dose of gossip for the week.
“So are you working on anything new?” I breathed out this stupid question as my eyes dropped to his white t-shirt. I shook my head sheepishly, but I was saved again when his phone rang. He looked at the screen and his eye brows rose as he quickly pressed answer.
   “Hey Reed, what’s up?” he said in his soft soulful voice. Reed, that’s a guy’s name right? If he talks to guys like that, then I wonder how his voice sounds when he’s talking to a girl he likes.
   “Shoot, I totally forgot…you’re outside… man you know me too well…okay, I’ll see you in two.” He put the phone in his pocket and looked at me again.
   “I’m really sorry, but that was my mate, he’s right outside. I forgot we had a cricket game at one and it’s already quarter to.” He rose from his chair forcing my neck to crane to see his face. Just like that a moment in heaven could end; I felt tiny pins pricking at my heart.
 “It was really nice crashing into you, I hope we could do it again sometime,” he said and he held out his hand for me to shake. I stood up and as he cupped my hand into his, a massive war of tingles on steroids, broke out inside me. I wanted so much not to let go and ask him to stay, to linger this moment a little longer, but I faced reality and let go.
   “It was nice meeting you too,” I said a little louder than a whisper. I looked up at his face just to capture this last image of him; his cheeks were a little pink, it seems he was really excited about cricket. We stood there for a few uneasy seconds smiling with each other then, unable to withstand my heartache, I turned and grabbed the pizza box from the table and handed it to him.
   “Cold pizza, sustenance for after the game.”
   “Thanks,” he said. I couldn’t find the strength to look at him again. I looked out the front door and there was a black car sitting in the street, a guy with sunglasses peering right back at me; I quickly turned my head back to Adam’s chest.
   “Well I guess you should go.”
   “Yeah, well… bye.”
   “Bye.” He turned and I watched as he walked out, my heart throbbed with every step he took. I turned and slumped back into the chair; I am definitely going to need another brownie. I grabbed my purse from the chair next to me, and as I stood I heard the door bell jingle, I looked excitedly for his face, but it was just Peter sweeping the dust outside; the black car was gone. I shook my head at how naïve I was to think that he’d come back.
​As I walked out the bakery, my other brownie safe in my purse, I watched the spot where I collapsed, the spot where we crashed as he so gracefully put it, then I felt a light tap on my shoulder, I turned my head to the right and my breath got caught in my throat again as the black jacket blurred past my eyes and was now blocking my path. I looked up and smiled with confusion.
   “Didn’t you leave?” I said. He smiled and I almost fell over when the wind blew.
   “I did leave, but then I realised that I forgot to ask you one crucial question,” he said.
My eyebrows knitted together and I shook my head. Crucial? What in the world did he want to ask me, if I was a terrorist?
   “Could I have your phone number?” I couldn’t help it a beaming smile widened my face.
   “Um, of course.” I put out my hand. “Give me your phone,” I said almost giggling and he placed his black Motorola phone in my opened hand. I stored my number and handed the phone back to him. I grabbed one last deep look into his emerald eyes, and I swore I saw his cheeks turn pink again. Did I do that? Could I possibly have made him blush?
   “Um,” he cleared his throat. “I better go before Reed kills me for making us late.”
   Okay,” I said.
   “I’ll call you.”
   “Mhmm.” I shook my head and my eyes widened as his face was almost red now. I guess he didn’t do this a lot; that was good to know. He ran to the waiting car, got in and then he sped off up the road, stopping at the corner, then turning right as the car squealed out of sight.