by Arthurs, Nia
“But what about Paul?” she moaned. “What about my son?”
I felt a stirring of sorrow for her loss, but could not express it. Instead, I held her shoulders so that she could see me instead of the men crawling through her house.
“You need to be strong in this time. Paul would want you to be strong.”
She nodded. Mrs. Sterm hugged me. I awkwardly clasped her back. She leaned on me and cried quietly.
I was just about to let her go when I caught the hint of a conversation from the activity across the street. The voice belonged to someone in a large black SUV.
“Yes, I visited the girl in the hospital. She’s a silly type. I doubt she’d know if she stumbled on anything. Still, let’s keep this quiet.”
The man paused. After a moment, his gravelly voice spoke again.
“Follow her. I want to know where she goes and who she knows.”
I frowned and took a step toward the voice. When I could not move, I realized that Mrs. Sterm was still holding me tightly.
Though my instinct bid me to reject the grieving woman and pursue the man in the vehicle, I remained with the widow.
“No one’s here!” a voice announced from the house.
The call was met with a cloud of disappointed mutters. I looked down at the crying elder in my arms.
Paul was no longer alive, but his mother was. As much as he’d done for me, I would repay back this one favor.
Humans were tricky creatures. They valued connection over capital. They sought relationships over riches. In the end, most chose love over revenge.
I could not love in the way that human beings were programmed to do. It was a conscious choice that I made because I valued the things outside of this world.
Yet, this service was one that I would make for Sterm. I gathered his mother close and disappeared, leaving the man in the SUV behind.
Chapter 7
I officially met Tess Hardey five hours after seeing Mrs. Sterm safely board her flight.
The connection to Miami would be the only one Paul’s murderers could trace. I gave Mrs. Sterm enough money to use busses and trains to get to her sister in Arizona.
For her own safety, I bid her to stay away from all communication in Belize. If the man behind Paul’s murder was powerful enough to keep the matter under wraps, he was powerful enough to find her.
I assured that I would take care of all of her bills in Belize City. She had refused at first, but I quickly brushed her concerns aside.
Being a five hundred year old alien had many complications, but it also had its perks.
The land and realty that I purchased when most of the world had been undeveloped was now worth millions of dollars.
“Thank you,” she had sniffed as I stuffed the money into her hand.
“Stay alive,” I’d replied, “that is how you show your gratitude.”
I’d returned to the Sterm’s residence immediately, but the men had left. They had touched nothing in the house, as if anticipating the occupant’s return.
I was doubly glad that I had carted Mrs. Sterm out of the country. The man on the phone would be back. I was sure of it.
“This is the last of them,” Jones slapped me on my shoulder, effectively cutting off my thoughts.
Bright sunshine branded my eyes and pulled me back to the present. The night had passed and the morning was making its debut.
Jones snickered. “What were you thinking about? You had that constipated expression on.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, but he only grinned foolishly in response. Jones was a brilliant sociology professor at the University of Sacred Lights. Yet few could tell by his behavior.
He was painfully awkward. His social skills were further tarnished when the ink dried on his divorce papers.
Jones daughter, a troubled girl in her own right, often bemoaned her father’s lack of social graces.
Whether or not Jones had a psychological problem was yet to be determined. In all honesty, he was now the only man that knew my secret. And thus he was a close friend.
“Thank you for your help,” I bowed my head in respect.
“River-man,” Jones grinned. His dancing Caribbean accent was especially heavy as he said my name. “I will always be there to help you.”
I nodded and slammed the moving van shutters closed. Furniture shopping was an excruciating bore and I’d done my fair share in the last few centuries.
In my stead, Jones and his daughter had purchased the sofas at a local store. Today all I had to do was load and unload them.
“Exactly why did you pick this neighborhood?” Jones asked as we throttled along in the van. He ducked his head to look out the windshield.
Bungalow houses painted brilliant shades of the rainbow stood a healthy distance from each other.
Coconut trees sprung up to wave their fronds in the wind. Clothes hung on strung lines and flapped in the breeze.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s so … old looking.”
I smirked. “Have you forgotten whom you’re speaking to?”
“I know, I know. But look out there,” he pointed to the left where an elderly woman was climbing the stairs of her upper story house. “Is that the kind of view you want every morning? How are you supposed to meet a girl and fall in love when all you do is work and lock yourself in at home?”
“I don’t believe in love,” I reminded him. “So women are the last thing I factor in when I move somewhere.”
“You don’t believe in love?” Jones mimicked. “Courtney and I had a terrible marriage, but I can’t give up on love.”
I kept quiet. Jones knew my position on the entity of marriage and relationships. I saw no need for it above the human need to reproduce. My friend interpreted my silence and snickered.
“Go on. Be like that. I can’t wait until you fall right in it. It’ll be very entertaining.”
Jones enjoyed teasing me about my single lifestyle, but he did so understanding that his words would never influence my choices.
My time on earth was drawing to a close. Why would I willingly complicate it now by involving myself in affairs of the heart?
“This is it!”
Jones parked the truck before a small split level house painted a bright peach shade. It had a large yard and red flowers popped out of green bushes.
The structure was charming and colorful, but what I loved most about the house was the forestry that grew behind and beside it.
A chain link fence separated my house from my neighbor’s and the other buildings were set a healthy distance apart.
My sensitive hearing meant the more distance I could have from people, the better. The locale was also chosen on purpose.
Joy Street had been lauded as a place where the elderly lived in quiet and peace.
I had purchased the land and building immediately.
Jones and I worked under the hot Belizean sun to haul the boxes from the back of the van to the threshold of my new home. I moved quietly, my mind flitting from one issue to another.
Paul was dead. He’d passed away before getting the chance to explain what he’d found in his research.
His body had been removed from the scene of the crime and all traces of the deed disappeared. The suits breaking in to the Sterm’s residence later that night furthered my misgivings.
I would stick around to find out all I could. It was the only path I could see. And perhaps, if I tried hard enough, I could find Sterm’s research before the meteor shower arrived.
“Hey,” Jones nudged me in the side as a car pulled up next door. “Looks like your neighbors are here.”
I nodded, taking the time to skim over the older man that hopped out of the vehicle. He was short in stature with dark brown hair trimmed low to his scalp.
I took note of his appearance and amiable expression and then continued my work. Jones, used to my silence, continued out the door without waiting around for a reply.
The human de
sire for communication stemmed from the inane need to connect on an emotional level. Since I sought no connections, I discouraged too many deep conversations.
Humans spoke of the same topics over and over again. After five hundred years, silence had become a privilege and solitude was a comfort.
My tennis shoes brushed against the green grass of the lawn as I returned to van for the smaller boxes in the front seat.
“Pss,” Jones slapped my shoulder. “Look!”
He pointed in the direction of the yard next door. Two younger women stood in the middle of the lawn.
I frowned, wondering where the elderly couple had gone. Perhaps these two were their children?
The women were similar in appearance and it was easy to guess that they were related. They both had brown skin, curly black hair and pleasing features.
The one on the left was taller with a graceful air that attracted one’s eye immediately. The woman beside her was shorter and leaned heavily on two crutches.
Something about her face was familiar. She swiveled her head to stare at the taller woman and I remembered. She was the girl I had rescued last night.
I ducked my head so that they couldn’t see me. Jones stooped to my level.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
My friend glanced at my face and then at the girls.
“Do you know them?”
“I do not.”
A grin spread on Jones’s face. He threw his weight into pushing me upright and urged me forward. I glared over my shoulder at his snickering. I would get him back for that.
As I walked up the path to the front door, the taller woman cantered toward the gate bordering the properties. Her arms moved back and forth as she waved me forward.
I contemplated ignoring her, but we had already made eye contact. I was trapped.
“Hello,” the woman leaned against the fence and tugged on her hair.
I kept my expression bland and disinterested. For some strange reason, women loved striking up conversations with me. I neither enjoyed nor anticipated these interactions.
I grudgingly neared the fence and set the box down at my feet. The girl gazed up at me with big brown eyes. Her nose was slim and her lips a perfect cupid’s bow.
“I’m Dani. It’s nice to meet you.”
I tilted my head and stared her down.
Would it be socially acceptable to walk away now?
The sound of crutches hitting dry earth resonated as the second woman maneuvered beside Dani. I noted the differences between them.
They were both very beautiful, but Dani’s appearance was carefully made up while her sister did nothing to hide the dark circles beneath her eyes or smooth the frizz of her hair.
I could imagine after all she’d gone through, such menial things as make-up and hair brushes probably did not appeal.
The newcomer whispered to the other, but Dani ignored her and grinned at me. Her brown eyes sparkled in the sunlight.
“Hey look, Tess. I’ve found a shy one!” she said, clearly hoping to egg me.
I simply stared at her in silence. I had learned that humans shied away when their efforts were met with quiet. It was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling for most of the species.
My eyes trekked of their own accord to the woman called ‘Tess’. It had been my intention to visit her in the hospital last night, but Mrs. Sterm’s departure had eaten most of my time.
She looked well, if a bit tired. I wondered if the events of the night had been cleared from her memory. Did she not remember me?
“Come on, Dani,leave the guy alone. He obviously has no manners,” Tess said to the woman beside her.
I hid my smirk and lowered my eyes. I was more certain than ever that the woman did not recognize my face.
“Wait,” Dani pulled against her sister’s arms to keep her from walking away. She turned to me with an innocent smile and said.
“My sister is going to have a hard time with her leg.She lives alone so I’d feel much better if you’d look in on her now and again.”
I stiffened at her words. Of all the neighborhoods in all of Belize, I had chosen to live next to the girl involved with Paul Sterm?
How could this be? The realtor had assured me that the neighborhood I had chosen was for retirees.
The knowledge filled me with a deep sense of discomfort. These women, Tess, needed to know from the get go that I was not interested in a relationship with her. Neighborly or otherwise.
I glowered at them and folded my arms threateningly over my chest. Leaning close to the fence, I growled.
“Asking someone you just met for help before gauging their character is stupid and dangerous.”
I saw the minute my words dawned on them. Dani seemed rather bewildered. Tess wrinkled her mouth in distaste.
Good.
I focused on Tess as I finished.
“Please be more careful in the future.”
I won’t save you again.
She knew nothing of our midnight meeting and that was how I wanted it to stay. Tess lifted her chin. I had lost her favor in the span of our short meeting.
Feeling accomplished, I grasped the boxes I had set at my feet when the young lady called me over and continued up the path to my house.
Chapter 8
I managed to push my offended neighbor from my mind and spent the rest of the day with Jones and his daughter Leslie Anne.
The experience was doubly uncomfortable for neither Jones nor his daughter put any effort into being civil in front of me.
“You can’t date at fifteen,” Jones hissed at the young girl as we sat in the middle of the fancy restaurant that afternoon.
Red wallpaper decorated the walls and large French windows overlooked the street. The air conditioner buzzed loudly in my ears. I closed my eyes and mentally shoved the sound into a box.
My abilities amplified even the tiniest sounds. Though I had trained myself in the art of focusing on only one sound at a time, the low rumble of machinery could often invade my mind.
The moment I managed to get a handle on the AC’s rattling, Leslie Anne and her father hissed at each other, causing the awkwardness of the dinner to skyrocket.
“You don’t know anything, Dad!”
Leslie Anne rolled her eyes and tapped her dark fingers against the beautifully spread table.
I read in the tenseness of her shoulders that she did not give a hoot whether her father approved of her choices or not.
Her very dress was a rebellion.
Leslie Anne was a young girl, but the innocence in her eyes was overshadowed by the heavy makeup she wore on her face.
Her slim legs stuck out of a revealing mini skirt and her cleavage hung from a low-dipping shirt.
Jones often complained about his headstrong daughter and blamed his ex-wife for her restless spirit.
I could tell that Leslie Anne was hurting, but felt it was not my place to become involved.
“I can do whatever I want, Dad,” Leslie Anne snapped.
The two squabbled for the remainder of the evening. I was quite relieved when Jones finished his meal and called it a day. The two headed to Jones’s car, still locked mid-quarrel.
I enjoyed the sweeping breath of the Caribbean breeze as I drove home. I was already becoming familiar with Belize City.
The slow pace of this small seaside country reminded me of the islands I’d visited hundreds of years ago.
Though the territory had been slapped with the label ‘city’, the laid back atmosphere was very calm.
Ten minutes later, I parked in my driveway and climbed out of the car. The house before me was unfamiliar but I did not feel out of place.
The very definition of my existence was one that did not belong. Changing homes, countries and even surnames was a symptom not a cause.
I slipped into the house and fell into the black sofa. The soft material melted against my back. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and settling into t
he new house.
The whisper of a conversation floated on the breeze as clear as day.
“First,we stake out the place. Next, we break in and lastly, we find a bill or something with your neighbor’s name so I can stalk him from Barbados.”
I tilted my head in confusion. The voice sounded like Dani’s. Was she speaking about me?
Distracted by the thought, I missed a large chunk of the conversation. When I listened in again, the topic had already changed.
I ran a hand through my hair. I must have been mistaken. The women in the house next door could not intend to burglarize my home.
Tess Hardey was limping along on crutches and her sister was as subtle as a gun.
If they did intend to rob me, I could sense their heartbeats from miles away. It would be a rather anticlimactic activity.
The haze of conversations from all around the neighborhood faded into a dull buzz.
I grabbed my remote control and fixed a record into the flat record player that I’d had since 1877. The calming brush of a violin and cello suite rushed through the room.
While the song played, I gathered all the research Sterm had shared before his passing. The sheets had a variety of numbers expressing the longitude and latitude of a meteor’s journey.
The passage of “falling stars” varied. Unlike the planets which spun around the solar system, meteors could move freely.
On my star, precise calculations were set in order to charter a trip to and from the planets.
The possibility of the ship being pulled off course and disappearing forever was a heady fear. It was why the carrier only passed every five hundred years.
I shuffled through reams of documents, searching for the pattern that Sterm had discovered. I did not have as solid a grasp on the machines as the meteorologist, but I could hold my own.
In the 1950’s, I dabbled in astrology. My thirst for answers, however, was mistaken for ambition. My superiors rushed to promote me.
I was nearly thrust into the spotlight. The flurry of questions about my personal life and interest in my background was overwhelming. I had to give up my position in favor of preserving my anonymity.