Chapter 24

Being a bank clerk is hard, but I never had to face the most brutal of the hardships before today. You hear about these things, you see your colleagues face it in the most brutal way possible- happening on the first day of their job, but you are so meticulous that you never think it would happen to you. Overconfidence was one of the reasons of my fate, the other one was the wretched note counting machine that could not separate two different notes, and I ended up losing 12 dollars. Mariyam, who joined the Holtshire branch two months after I did, and has lost nearly four times the amount on the first day itself, tries to console me.

"It's alright, Azalea. You'll get it back some day or the other, people sometimes leave more than they want to deposit and then we can collect it in a can and you'll get your money back. Besides, you didn't even lose that much. Why are you so upset about it?" Her consolation is irritating.

"I'm not upset about the money. I was going for a record, to be the best cashier in the history of banking. I am swift, but careful. I don't understand what happened."

I pick up my bag and leave.

I am in no mood for drinking, but sometimes, you just have to. It is getting restless for me. I like my work very much, though it pays little, and it is probably the only reason I am not dying of boredom in here. All through the day, there are customers to talk to. I don't understand why so many people wait in the queue in front of me but hardly anyone in front of Mariyam. Even the staff sometimes complain that she doesn't talk much, but I don't get it. She talks fine to me, even makes me laugh. And she is super intelligent, like, she remembers everything about Shelley and Keats, and I, who is pursuing my Masters degree in Literature, hardly remember anything. But yes, she is not very approachable. And that is why I can never take her to the mall or the movies or literally any place around.

It is proving harder to adjust to this new life when anyone I know is not interested in going out after work. One problem being that the examination is so hard that not many people get these bank jobs, so the staff is made of only five people, two of them about ten years older than me, one of the helpers being ten years more than double my age, and the only person who is six years older than me is not interested in anything except work, and probably music. Mariyam seems to like music.

Going to the gym is proving to be a torture, not that I am not able to lift weights or run, but I can't adhere to a schedule, and going there day after day without fail is becoming a schedule which is getting unbearable for me. It doesn't help that everyone is so shy and leaves when I try to approach them. I haven't been there for three days, and I saw the trainer outside my branch yesterday, I ran so hard into the shop nearby that I lost control and fell on the brooms and toilet cleaners.

Sarah has been laughing uncontrollably for the last three minutes and I have a face that betrays constipation. That wasn't funny if you were there, I got hurt! I put down my phone with a bang as I cut the call, when it pings with a notification. I open Fallin4U, one of the many dating apps I've installed and been disappointed in, to find a match that I've been ignoring for days. The pictures are quite good, but I don't trust people who wear sunglasses, and this person has ten pictures and in none of them I can see the eyes.

"Hey." This is his seventh message without getting a response. I'm about to ignore this one as well, when he says, "We've crossed 92 times and still haven't met."

I check the stats, and true, this person and I have crossed ways so many times in such a small town. I get a little disappointed because I seem to have locked eyes with all the young and cute guys around here, so either this person is a poser, or a catfish. Probably he is just photogenic.

"Yeah, that's strange." I reply.

"Can I get your number?" Wow, he's fast. And straightforward.

"Umm, yeah, sure. You're pretty fast, aren't you?" Wink emoji.

We exchange numbers, and after a little chat, he asks me to meet up. I don't what came up on me. Meeting up some stranger in a strange little town seems a little too rash, but I have my best beer in me, and I hit him with an "Okay."

Rolling in my bed I keep wondering what I am expecting from this meet up, even. I am so not ready for a relationship, so dating is off the table. I guess I need a friend to hang out with. I try to look up this person, Dave, on social media, but I don't know his last name, or what he does, or where is he from. Not for nothing, however, I have been called the creepiest stalker imaginable, by none other than myself. I pair up Dave and Holtshire and I'm deep into the threads of Facebook when I finally find those sunglasses. This person doesn't have a single picture without them. I don't know if I should trust him, but then I notice his smile. It's big, and genuine. Reasoning flows out of the scene as I get ready to meet him the next evening.

I have never been to a date, or whatever this is, before. I am not pretty, and I haven't washed my hair in five days. It's cold out there, for crying out loud! And I don't own a hair dryer. I put a little bit of makeup on, some eyeliner, big hoops in my earlobes, and put my hair in two ponytails. I don't understand what is wrong with me, apart from the fact that I can't think straight. In fact, I'm not thinking at all. Who wears their hair in two ponytails at the age of twenty-two? I put on my maroon hoodie and a black pair of jeans, because I own only one jacket apart from my hoodies, and I want to look casual and cool about this whole meeting up a stranger thing, like I didn't put much effort into it. By the standards set up by the society, my getup looks like I have put zero effort in it.

I reach the mall exactly at 7 p.m. and I look around. I am chill. Chill. Chill. I keep telling myself that this place has a lot of movement going on, and no one can kidnap me in the plain sight of the crowd. There's not much crowd to say, but more people mill around here than the entire Holtshire town. I spot him outside, though I cannot definitely say that it's him, and I text him.

"Where are you."

"Walk inside the mall through the gates. I'm inside." He replies. I can see him sitting outside.

"Okay." I enter. "I am inside the mall. Where are you?"

"In a minute." He says.

I smile. "Don't be so shy, it's okay."

He enters the mall. He is wearing a blue denim jacket and jeans; there are no sunglasses on his face right now. He is really tall, so I can't see his face clearly still. He smiles as he comes towards me, nervous as a wreck. I can see how this new world has changed me when I walk up to this man full of confidence, put out my hands and say, "Hello." His hands find mine and we shake them.

"Coffee?" He asks.

"Sure."

"So, where are you from?" I ask. I already know the answer.

"Arhan Lake. You?"

"Kelshills. It's a small town near Birchwood. But it is as crowded as Birchwood itself. And a hell lot crowded than Holtshire." I tell him.

"I see what you mean. Arhan Lake is a small city, but I'm guessing Kelshills is way more crowded because of its proximity to Birchwood. Birchwood has the only International airport in the state, so it is obvious. Then coming here in this godforsaken place where there are no people around. What brings you here anyway?" He asks.

"I work at the Bank of Birchwood. I'm posted to this 'godforsaken place', so here I am."

He chuckles. "Nice. So you're a banker, huh? That's so cool."

"Yeah, not as cool when you have to pay for misplaced money from your own pockets. What do you do by the way?"

"I am an engineer at the Aegon Petrochemicals. You know Aegon?"

"No, where is it?"

"Well, there are three sites for our company. Mine is just on the other side of Holtshire railway station."

"Okay."

We go up the stairs to a coffee shop with an open terrace seating area . I trip.

"Hey, you alright?" He steadies me.

"Yeah, I didn't see that railing."

"Alright. Why don't you take a seat and I'll order us two coffees."

"Sure." He goes towards the counter, and I come out of the shop thinking that the entrance to the terrace is outside. It isn't. So, I pretend to make a call to my friend, and I actually end up call someone from the college I am currently enrolled in for distance graduation. Dave walks towards the terrace with two coffees in his hands and looks over to see where I am. I wave at him and he takes a seat. I enter the shop after a minute and trip over the door railing.

"Hey, sorry about that. My friend called." I take a seat.

"You sure you're okay? You have been tripping over." He asks.

"Yes, I'm just… I don't know. Nervous, maybe." I chuckle.

"Really? The way you walked upto me and shook my hand, you didn't seem the nervous type. You are so full of confidence."

"Thanks." I reach for my coffee and for the first time, I sneak a look at him.

If you have spent a night on the seashore, looking at the black sky betraying the darkness with its tiny lights, stars of huge potential lurking in the vastness of the universe, shining like fairy lights on a Christmas eve, you've gotten a glimpse of the depth those two eyes held in them. Dave's eyes are two tiny pinpricks of light, glittering like opals in the sand, shadowing a thousand unspoken words whooshing through the sound of the waves. His voice is that of Poseidon, the mighty growl of thunder arising from the deep oceans in a in a low gurgle, riding the chariots of the tides, finally succumbing to the calm, safe sand bed. But what makes me lose my voice and the train of my thought is his smile. His smile sits in contrast with the depth of his very own self, its bright- a ruby red apple glittering on a sunny day, a butterfly chasing its own shadow on a spring morning, a big ol' pumpkin, waiting to be carved into a lantern to light the nights on an autumn evening. In the moments spend looking at that smile and tuning out most of what is happening around us, including his words, I realise one thing. This man is going to be the death of me.