Hail Mary

CHAPTER FOUR

I had found the hardened goop on the tiled floor the most interesting thing in the world for the last 15 minutes. Mopping the entire vicinity of Stig's pub proved to be an effective remedy against my frustration of not being able to find Millie after that swift interaction in the well-lit park four nights ago.

Like a maniac, I ran towards the direction she had taken, stopped every woman of the same stature as her on their respective tracks, and made sure I'd get a good look at their faces before letting them go. A matter of an hour later, after making a total fool of myself, I had already given up.

I was pretty much convinced that I was just having a vivid hallucination.

What the f**k was wrong with this f*****g head of mine? It was probably best to go find a shrink to help make some sense of and clear my headspace. If only I believed it actually helped.

"Cliff."

I smiled at myself like a psycho, thinking how that sound was coming to haunt me again.

"Cliff."

You are not going to fool me again, I thought to myself.

"You dumb t**t, are you even listening to me?"

I was pulled out of my trance instantly. I could only feel the terror on my face as I saw Stig's funny expression – a mix of anger and disbelief. He was standing behind the bar, a crumpled piece of rug in one hand. It took me a few seconds to realize that he was finally done wiping the counter.

I straightened myself and rested my arm on the wooden end of the mop, pretending that nothing was insanely wrong with me. "Yeah?"

"I said," he paused, sighing in the process. "I was wondering", paused, "how long you were supposed to be mopping that same damn spot." He sounded exasperated.

"Yeah, sorry." I had been apologizing quite a lot lately.

"Listen, mate, you really gotta get that head sorted out, ya know?" Stig's accent was becoming more obvious. I watched as he dumped the dirty rug on a basin half-filled with now brown water.

"I'm fine, Stig. Just. Just --"

"Just what?" He cut me off. "You gotta talk to someone professional. I could only do so much and mopping that floor isn’t going to make you think and feel better, ya know."

I almost rolled my eyes, exhausted at how almost all his sentences always ended up with 'ya know'.

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head so hard that time?"

I paused and tried to rummage through every corner of my brain, went back to that time, but only uncertainty blurred my mind. I was not sure. Did I get hit on my head or did I not?

My sight landed on Waldo, a lanky guy in his early 20s, one of Stig's barkeeps who was busy setting up tables at the corner of the pub. I was certain that he was not listening in on our conversation because he had earphones on, but I was still embarrassed.

I stared at Stig blankly without answering and I was surprised to see him smile playfully.

I shook my head and smiled back because that felt like it was the right thing to do. I took the awkward silence that came after as a cue to go back to the task at hand.

We're so f*****g bad at communicating. If we were ever a couple, we would probably end up killing each other. I gagged subconsciously.

In the morning, the pub was relatively deserted, as were other establishments around the same street. It was profoundly quiet in contrast to the various noises and actions that occurred every night.

I felt a tad nostalgic as I watched the snow fall outside the large window of the pub -- STIG'S BEER & PIZZA beautifully stenciled in gold on the glass.

I was just about to go back to my chores when I saw a flash of brown and red in my peripheral view, through the glass and across the street.

Shit. There I was again.

Psychotic Cliff mode was activated.

The bell rang as I swung the glass door open speedily when I ran outside, leaving the mop and the bucket of water lying around on the floor. I could've sworn Stig was looking at me like I had grown another head. Waldo was, too.

"Millie!" I probably yelled the name out louder than I should have because even the people from inside other stores turned around and peeked out to find out which lunatic would be screaming his lungs out so early in the morning.

She turned around, wearing the same brown coat and the red beanie from the night before. She was smiling, although her brows crossed, completely puzzled as she looked back at me.

“You are Millie, right?” My voice turned hoarse, perhaps due to the cold and the unnecessary shouting. My God, I was such an i***t.

I felt so hopeful. I probably looked pathetic because her expression shifted from smiling to someone seemingly staring at a lost puppy right in front of her.

“I’m Cliff from Fordwich?” I took one step closer. “Dog rose? Red wagon?”

Silence.

When she still did not respond, I added, “Train station?” I said in between breaths. I did not mind that it was f*****g cold. I was positive that even if I got frostbite, I still would not care because she was finally right there, just less than a meter apart from me.

Please be Millie.

Please be Millie.

Her mouth shaped like an ‘O’ as, finally, an imaginary bulb lit up in her brain.

She wiggled her index finger in front of me, her face finally brightened up as I could only guess the recollection of memories was finally coming to her.

“Oh, vandal!” She said and my heart felt like it was going to explode.

Before we knew it, we were already laughing together.

Something that rarely happened in the past.