Familiar Strangers

Missed Appointment

Marissa’s POV

After Antonio left for the office, I realised I had absolutely nothing to do. Jackson was out of town so I did a little of everything and a whole lot of nothing.

I toured the house like a curious guest, scrolled endlessly on my phone, read a bit, watched TV, got bored of the TV, then connected my phone and watched a movie instead. I shopped online, wandered around again, and eventually met some of the workers. The woman who cleans the house showed up later, and I told her to go on sabbatical. She hesitated, clearly not trusting me fully, I decided to call Grandpa. Once he assured her she would still be paid, she finally agreed to leave.

Time passed without meaning.

By evening, I decided to cook.

I finished cooking and waited, fully expecting Antonio to be back soon. He wasn’t.

An hour passed. Still nothing.

I picked up my phone and called him. No answer.

I called again. Still nothing.

Does he ever answer his phone?

Fine. That’s what his PA is for.

I dialled that number too. No answer.

Like employer, like employee.

By now, I was starving. The kind of hungry that makes you lightheaded and irrational. I tried to distract myself with the movie playing in the background, but who was I kidding? Hunger does not respect plotlines.

I was getting irritated. Antonio was officially unreliable.

I understood that he was busy, but still…

Not long after, I heard the sound of a car pulling in.

I stood up immediately and walked toward the door, arms crossed over my chest. For a split second, I felt like a wife waiting for her husband to come home. The thought startled me, and I shook it off before it could settle.

Antonio walked in.

He paused when he saw me standing there, studying him. His brows lifted slightly, and I knew it instantly. He had completely forgotten.

“Good evening, Antonio,” I said. “Please tell me you haven’t had dinner.”

That was when it clicked for him.

He looked at me, then at the dining table where the half-set plates waited quietly.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I forgot.”

Oddly enough, I wasn’t even angry. I hadn’t expected much to begin with.

Without another word, I turned and walked back to the dining room. He followed.

I sat down, served the food, and started eating immediately.

“Do you only use your phone to make calls and not to receive them?” I asked between bites.

He looked up at me.

“This is the second time I’m calling and not getting a response” I added.

“Today was busy,” he replied.

I freeze a bit.

He actually replied.

Usually, when I try to make small talk at the dining table, I get nothing. Absolute silence. Once, he even said talking during meals was unnecessary. So hearing an actual response caught me off guard.

Maybe it was boredom. Maybe curiosity. Either way, I decided to run with it.

“Hmmm...,” I said lightly. “I was watching TV today and heard that the Johnsons are handling the Walters’ factory issue.”

He kept eating, expression unreadable.

“I know the Johnsons and the Walters are family friends,” I continued, “and I get that you’re trying to offer an olive branch. But sometimes, you have to cut loose dead weight. Or at least make it clear that friendship doesn’t excuse underhanded dealings.”

Still nothing. Just the steady movement of his cutlery.

A bit disheartening, but I was already talking, so I pressed on.

“Honestly, the Walters won’t last another five years in business, no matter how much help they get. It’s either they step up and clean up their act, or they get cut loose.”

I finished speaking and looked at him.

He looked up.

We stared at each other for a full ten seconds.

Then he calmly returned to his food.

“Stuck-up,” I muttered inwardly, finally shutting my mouth.

When he finished eating, he stood, carried his plate to the kitchen, and walked off like nothing happened.

I sighed, picked up my own plate, and followed suit.

And like that days turned into a week and we've entered another week where I had nothing to do but at least Antonio did not keep me waiting for another dinner.

One night after having dinner, I go into my room to retire for the night, I freshen up and climb into bed. I was exhausted from another day of doing absolutely nothing, and I expect sleep to come easily and it did come but it was not a peaceful one.

This night was different.

I had a dream.

At first, it was a happy dream. Kennedy, Martin, and I were together again, laughing, playing, just being kids with no idea of what was coming. Then, without warning, the scene shifted. I was back at the accident site. Trapped. Watching everything unfold over and over, unable to move, unable to scream, unable to wake up. This is a nightmare!!!

Tears stream down my face even in the dream, and still I couldn’t escape.

The years that followed crashed in next. Years of loneliness. Years of wandering through life by myself.

I try to wake up. I try as hard as I could, but my body refused to obey, and the tears kept falling.

Then finally I jolt awake.

My hands fumble for my phone. Just past two in the morning.

Sleep was impossible after that.

I remembered seeing a gym on my little tour yesterday so I get out of bed, changed, and headed to the gym. If my mind wouldn’t rest, at least my body could be pushed until it forgot.