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Chocolates and Beer

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‘Excuse me, sir, can I help you?’ I asked the man who had been sitting in front of my house one afternoon. Well why not, my place is like a little piece of Eden. Vines covering the wall. The roses can be seen from outside. There in the shade of dark red like the ones from the beauty and the beast. Some orchids were hung too. Lilies of the valley are displayed like little wedding bells. Neighbors adore my place and usually stop for a while to give a glance of appreciation.

But regardless of how beautiful it is, it's just a face. Nobody really stops and stares for more than a minute or so. If this man does not have a handsome face, I would think he's a creep or someone planning on how he could rob my place.

I waited 10 minutes, 15 minutes, until 20. He's not moving. Is he asleep or something? Until I can't wait anyway, the sun has been burning me and this "so-called" waiting shed is not helping.

The neighborhood is unusually quiet. It feels like nobody would really hear me out when I call for help, if this man is really a bad person. Should I call the cops? No, not really helpful. If they saw his face, they might arrest me instead.

His face feels more and more familiar as I come closer to him. But I can't really remember where I met him. Is he a celebrity, did I see him on TV? This guy is really the man. Sharp jaw, nice nose, red lips. His face is so masculine with an aura of an angel. Like some perfect fictional character whose impossible to appear in the realm of reality. His eyes glittered like rays of sun piercing through the sea waves in the early morning.

‘Excuse me, sir, can I help you? Can I help you?' I asked again.

‘Huh?’ he gasped.

‘You’ve been here for a while. So..." I said, unsure of what to say next.

'I’m ah, my mind just drifted away.’ The man looked at me.

'Are you okay?' I absent-mindedly asked. Now I'm sure, the glitters on his eyes are from the tears he seemed to weep just a few minutes ago.

‘Yes, sorry, I’m just a little occupied. Is this your house? Sorry, I didn’t mean to stay here.’

‘No, it’s okay. I just thought it was kind of….’

‘I’m not a bad person.’ He abruptly exclaimed.

‘Well, I didn't think you were. Want some flowers?' I don't know what I'm actually saying but he's been staring at them even while we're talking.

‘Oh. No, no. It’s okay.... Not really.'

'Well, there's a lot of them. It looks like you like them.'

'Well, yeah. You have some really nice flowers and plants. You must be taking care of them so much.'

'Ah, yes. It's fun. They are my stress-relievers.' It's the truth. I think people divert their emotions to something when they feel stressed, lonely, tired, angry, hateful, or hurt. To others maybe going on vacations, jumping on to bars, or hanging out with friends and family is the way to get back on track and eliminate these negative emotions.

To me, gardening. Since I don't usually like being in the crowd, I surrounded myself with plants. Watering, trimming, and admiring their beauty after some work makes me feel happy and calm.

I also built a small greenhouse at the back and put a bookshelf and a little sofa. That's where I usually hang out. My personal space, my little sanctuary. Maybe this guy needs something like that too, so I wanted to share the feeling.

'Maybe I could start taking care of some, too.' He said with a little smile on his face.

'You can start with these.' I plucked the roses nearest to the gate. Maybe the work has made the skin on my hands thick, I didn't even feel their thorns.

'What have you done? Are they going to die?' Aw, this man is innocent. It's weird, but in a good way.

'Hahaha, no. Wait, I have a spare pot. Wait here for a while.' I went inside the house to fix what I did. I kinda feel stupid for doing what I did. I have some potted roses, why not give those instead. But here I am, trying to buy some time. I thought he would follow me but he just sat in front of the gate. Well, I didn't tell him to come in anyway. What am I thinking? I'll just take it as a man who will not come if he's not invited. His gesture somehow told me that he's a gentleman.

'Here you go.' I handed him the rose after some minutes.

'Oh, where's the flowers?'

'Here. Don't worry, they will still grow. You can give these to your girlfriend for now.' I said while handing him the roses that I carefully put into a simple bouquet. 'And once they bloom again, you can give him the second batch.' I continued. Well, it feels unreal if this man doesn't have a lover, right?

'Thank you. I really appreciate it. You're kind.' He spoke. Now, I'm sure. Maybe his girlfriend is living in this neighborhood and they had a fight that's why he's lurking around. These are just some scenarios I made in my head but he did not say anything so it must be true. At least 50% true.

'Don't mention it. I hope this somehow made you happy.'

'More than happy.'

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I
‘It’s okay Jean, there's always a next time.’ My mother consoled me as soon as she found me outside the auditorium. 'But I really gave my best.' I did. So does everybody else. But I can't help feeling disappointed. Why not me among the other hard workers? I've stayed up all night memorizing the tune in my head. When I'll strike the keys. Making sure my hands and feet are in sync. My heart and my head are the same melody. I don't have my own piano at home, so I do the extra work and imagination. Other than being poor, I'm not like anybody else. Those naturals and those who are fast learners. I can't memorize things quickly. I need to do more. Give more effort than anybody else. This experience made me burst into tears. This is my first heartbreak. And just like real heartbreak, it makes me want to stop and not to think about it again. Like they said, prevention is a cure. Twice is too much. If it's not for you, it's not for you. This is too heavy for a 12-year-old girl. But what makes me more upset is the fact that I failed to give the trophy to my mother. Despite our living conditions, she did not hesitate to support me when I said that I wanted to play the piano. I study in a public school. The instruments are limited. There's only one piano which is used in class. So, she worked extra hours so I could take some lessons at this small studio owned by her friend. The teacher, her friend, is a divorced and retired pianist who finds joy in teaching kids. But that joy can't feed a hungry stomach, she's a mom anyway. She's experienced, she's great. That's why it's my question, along with the neighborhood, why she keeps herself in her small studio. A talent like her should be out in the world. The question stayed in my head; I never heard my mother ask her about this either. So, the young me, who follows after my mother, did the same. 'It's okay, just join another one. Okay? It's still a good experience,' she said with a smiling face, but I still feel like crying. 'It's not like I'll win next time.' I'm losing all hope and motivation. I can't believe the thing I've invested in for months will crumple down like a piece of paper in a few minutes. 'And how did you know that you would not win? You just got to keep pushing if you really want something. The best things in life don't just drop in the palm of your hands. It's serious hard work, but it'll all be worth it once you achieve it. You won't even remember the sacrifices and disappointments. So, hang in there, okay?' 'Okay,' I said in a low voice. I know she's been trying to cheer me up, but I don't want to hear anymore. ‘Alright, want some ice cream?’ She's bribing me now. ‘No.’ ‘I heard they have chocolate, with strawberries? Ah, and almond nuts too, if I remember them correctly. And uhm...’ Mom teased. She knows how much I love chocolates. My Aunt, who is my mother's cousin, used to say that mom fed me with chocolate drink instead of milk when I was a baby. Maybe that's why I love it so much. ‘Okay, mom. If you insist, I surrender. I feel ashamed now, chocolates seem to lift my mood more than my mother's ever-loving words of encouragement. I sat on the bench while waiting for my mom. She looks so small among those in line for ice cream. She's 5'1" with a slender body and I sometimes wondered how she managed to raise a daughter like me. She's a high school dropout, so her work is not some extravagant thing. She's either waiting in a family restaurant, or in a factory. On weekends, she does a part-time job cleaning the hotel nearby. These rich people really know how to make money. They hire part-timers so they won't need to spend a dime on their health insurance, bonuses and other benefits a regular employee could have. My thoughts are taking me to unpleasant places when somebody throws something on me. A flower, a long stem blue rose. Up until now, I didn't know they existed. Is it dyed? I looked around when I saw a young boy. I laughed at him trying to squeeze his tiny body behind the tree. How cute? I walked up to him with a smile and little irritation. It's nice to receive a flower, but why throw it at me? 'Hi there, little boy. Is this for me?' 'Yes.' 'Oh, thank you. But why throw it at me?' ‘Because I like your performance. And my big brother said that people throw flowers on the stage when they like. But I didn't have one earlier, so I'm doing it now.’ The boy said, fidgeting behind the tree. 'How adorable. Thank you so much. I didn't win though.' 'It's okay, I'm sure you'll win next time. I'll watch.' Wow, this boy is so positive. 'Thank you. Then I'll see you again when that happens.' 'Okay.' The boy said, smiling with a dreamy face. Like a little angel sent from above to give me some sense of happiness. If I ever become a mother, I want a son. Someone like this boy. 'Jin......' The voice of a young man calling. 'Oh, that's big bro. Bye, bye.' I snapped back to reality, and he ran fast to where the voice came from. I just waved at his fading image while holding the blue rose. 'Jean, honey?' My mom called. ‘Oh, where did you get that?’ She asked while holding the famous chocolate ice cream. ‘Some kid gave this to me. He said he liked my performance earlier.’ ‘Oh, blue rose. Aren't they pricey? What a sweet boy.’ ‘Really? Isn't it dyed? Where did that kid get the money for the flower?’ ‘Maybe his parents bought it for him.’ ‘I see. Do you think I can still plant this?’ ‘I’m not sure, sweetie. Google it. It knows everything.’ ‘Hahaha. Okay.’ That's my first laugh of the day, thanks to mom's little joke and that sweet gesture from a little fan. And also, thanks to the delicious chocolate ice cream.

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