Chapter Text
Obsidian Memorial Park, New York. 8 pm, May 3rd, 2019.
Tofu and I were taking our usual post-dinner stroll, and I had a book that I was in the middle of reading. We arrived at our usual spot: a secluded but well-lit bench and Tofu scampered onto it ahead of me. I followed him and sat beside him, reaching out to scratch his head. The Calico yawned as I scratched him, and I knew now he'd take a nap while I read. I pulled away my hand to open the book I was carrying and turned to where my bookmark awaited.
I hadn't read two pages before there was a rustle of leaves and a man emerged from the hedges wearing all black, he was tall, probably 6 feet, and he looked confused and angry simultaneously. I stared at him as he dusted himself off, and Tofu's ears perked up, alert. I was now on the edge of my seat, ready to bolt, if needed. He looked up and met my gaze as he dusted himself off. He had handsome features, but a scar on his left cheek made the same features appear fierce and him, unapproachable.
"Hey" he said, walking towards me, and I stood up: it was time to leave, "Do you know how to get to the street?"
I frowned. That was different from the usual things perverts and rapists said when approaching a target.
"23rd Street?" I asked confused more than scared. He looked up and groaned.
"Any street! I've been unable to manoeuvre this maze of a place for the past hour!"
Exasperation. Could people fake exasperation?
"Well, if you follow this path you'll get to a fountain, and from there it's just left, right, right, left, left, and then the exit" I spoke fast, closing my book and tucking it into my cardigan, then bent down to pick up my cat.
"Good bye then" I added quickly as he still processed those instructions, and hurried to get out of his way, and his reach.
"Hey! Wait up! Lead me out!"
I ran, of course I did! No matter what new techniques they were using, I did not need to find that out first hand. I knew this park well, even if it was dark and poorly lit, and I knew I needed to get to the fountain, and then I'd be home-free!
I huffed like a middle-aged woman as I ran through the maze of the park, Tofu tucked into my jacket like a child, and by the time I arrived at the fountain, I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was keel over and die right then. But then, if I did, no one would be there to feed Tofu. And Tofu, cat or not, was a sissy and wouldn't survive a day out on the streets of New York.
I glanced back as I arrived at the fountain and found the man still on my heels, keeping pace with me by just jogging, while I felt my lungs and muscles burn from exhaustion. I took another deep breath and forced my legs to keep going. Behind me, I heard him mutter, "oh, the fountain!" and now he was racing ahead and the distance between us seemed to be getting smaller. I scolded myself for being such a home-body and pushed ahead, turning through the paths that would lead me out and onto the main road and in full public view.
I arrived on 23rd street in 3 minutes, huffing and puffing, dressed in boy shorts, a tee and a cardigan, holding a cat and a book, and looking ridiculously exposed instead of effortlessly fashionable. The people passing by me gave me looks that were both judgemental and pity, and sometimes they were from the same person. I panted to catch my breath and looked down to ensure Tofu's safety. The feline gave me a look that was only slightly judgemental, and I managed to smile at him briefly as I breathed.
"That was fast!"
Tall, handsome stranger huffed out a breath and came to a halt beside me, looking up and down the street, hardly exhausted, barely sweating, despite wearing his black leather jacket in the warm spring weather. I looked up at him, horrified, terrified, and was close to attempting another jog to get out his radar.
"Thanks" he muttered, then turned and walked away, stuffing his hands into his pockets and striding away like a badass. And I watched him, feeling slightly foolish for having misunderstood his intentions, leaving me seriously wondering if all he wanted from me was directions.
"At least we're alive, Tofu" I sighed, having caught my breath, stood up straight and looked around to orient myself to my surroundings. I had exited out the wrong side of the park in my hurry to get to a crowded and easily visible area, which meant I'd have to take the long way home. I sighed again at my own stupidity, then began the long walk home, I did not want to go through the park once again, so I’d have to walk around the length of it, instead of diagonally across it. Tofu meowed at me.
"I know, Tofu. I know" I sighed. I was at my wit’s end, and exhausted, and the paperback was poking me in my sides uncomfortably.
My usual 30-minute daily routine had turned into an hour-long nightmare of unnecessary excitement, delirious jogging, and the long shame-of-walk home. I arrived home at half past 9, exhausted, sweaty, and grimy. Tofu jumped out my arms as we arrived in our building and bolted up the stairs with ease, having spent the majority of our time outside being carried, while I, the carrier, was exhausted and grudgingly took the stairs up. Once I was in the safety of my home, I let out another tired sigh, retrieved my paperback from where I'd ingloriously stuffed it into, and tossed it on the table. It would need to be sun-dried and freshened up by perfume to get rid of my sweaty-smell from the pages. Tofu put his paw on my bare foot, and I knelt down to remove his leash, and watched as he bolted away swiftly. I decided to wash off the events of the night with a shower.
20 minutes later, I was dressed for bed: clean t-shirt, full pajama bottoms, and my fluffy socks. I barely had enough strength to climb under the covers, and I only did so because I knew I wouldn't stay asleep if I didn't. The weight of the blanket did its duty to lull me to sleep, and Tofu did his duty by sitting himself down on my chest and deciding that was where he wanted to rest that night. I fell asleep feeling comforted and safe and protected.
Mornings were difficult. They had been difficult as a student, and they were now difficult as an employee. My workplace was 3 bus stops away from home, and I always, invariably caught the 8:40 am bus which dropped me off at my destination at 7 minutes to 9. And I ran those seven minutes to arrive at the bookstore at 9 am. 'Queen of Aces' was the name of the store and its owner, Ned Queen, opened shop every day at 9 am and closed everyday at 6 pm, no exceptions. He was a 2nd generation millionaire and hadn't yet found the love of his life. He was 30-something, so he was in a hurry to meet someone and fall in love, and live happily ever after, as millionaires usually do, or some version of that, and so he spent every night hanging around various hot-spots around the city in order to find them. Which meant he closed shop at 6 pm, didn't care if he sold nothing all day, and spent the time I was at work to work on his socializing skills.
Last night's scare and unnecessary cardio meant I'd missed my regular bus and took the next one, which meant I'd be 20 minutes late. I texted Ned to let him know I was running late due to unavoidable circumstances, and he replied with a thumbs-up emoji. I was slightly relieved that he'd agreed so easily, but I still felt bad. I didn't do much and yet he paid me well enough to feed and house myself and my dumb cat. Poor Tofu, my idiot son: who had meowed at me all morning to keep me from going to work. Did cats sense anxiety as well as they sensed depression?
"Sorry I'm late, Ned" I said, arriving at the store, still sweating from the effort, and taking off my jacket. I saw that he was with a customer, so I sidled behind the counter to put my bag and jacket away, and waited. Ned was explaining something animatedly to our customer in the third aisle of books, so I decided to do what I normally do in the mornings, which was dust the first floor. Picking up the dusting rag and putting on my mask, I took the stairs up and began dusting the top shelves. The sounds in the shop quietened, probably because of the dust, but since I did this everyday, there was hardly any dust build-up. I hummed as I worked, having finally pushed the memory of last night out of my mind. Life was going on as usual today, and that was a relief.
The customer remained in the aisles, reading books and not buying books, even when I'd finished dusting the first floor and came down to the counter to relieve Ned.
"Mornin’, Zia" Ned greeted, "You look like you've partied all night" grinning knowingly.
"I didn't" I stated bluntly, "Wassup with the browser?" I nodded towards the aisles behind which our customer remained.
"Seems to be homeless" Ned muttered, "Leave him be"
I nodded as Ned stood, "Any requests today?" he asked, as he always did when he went out for a neighbourhood stroll and picked up his daily coffee.
"No, thanks Ned" I assured and he mock-saluted before leaving. I watched him leave through the glass door and wondered shortly why he was having trouble finding someone to spend the rest of his life with: he was funny, kind, and did things at his own pace. Like now: he knew I liked working on my writing early in the day, so he always left for an hour or so to give me time to do whatever writing I needed to. My goal was to write 200 words a day: that's all. Not a thousand, that was impossible for a person like me. I pulled out the papers I was writing in and re-filled ink into my fountain pen. I kept a pot of ink in the store because I always forgot to refill the pen at home. I re-read what I'd written over the last few days, scrunching my nose at some of the sentences I'd used. I corrected several mistakes with a pencil, until I arrived to where I needed to write: a blank page. I began to write.
"Excuse me? Do you have this year's copy of current events?"
My concentration was broken and I looked up at our only customer. I nearly dropped my pen.
"Stalker!" I decided, standing up and reaching for my phone. The same tall, handsome stranger who'd followed me through Obsidian Memorial stood in aisle 3, reading about the events of 2018.
"Oh, you again" he said. I scowled.
"Look man, it's daylight, my boss is around the corner, I will call the police, so just walk out of here and never be seen in my vicinity, if you know what's best for you" I was rambling. I rambled when I was anxious. I also got slippery fingers when I was anxious, which would explain my dropping my pen on the table abruptly just then. Stranger walked out of aisle 3 and to the counter.
"I'm not stalking you" he sounded, and looked disgusted that I could've even insinuated that, "Crazy cat lady" he muttered, rolling his eyes at me.
"Why are you here then?"
"I needed a book and no questions asked" he was scowling, "Too many questions here, so..." he put the book down on a pile of other unstacked books, and walked towards the exit.
"They don't make current events books until mid-year" I told him, "why don't you just Google it?"
"Google what?"
"Whatever niche news-piece you seem to be looking for" I shrugged, "That computer is for customers. 5 dollars an hour. If you finish early, I'll give you a discount"
He slapped a fiver on the counter and walked to the computer that was facing the street. I wondered absently if enabling a stalker was something that could be done. I sat back down on the stool and picked up my pen: it had survived higher falls than this before, and it had survived this too. I dabbed tissue on the ink spill, frowning at the pages, hoping the ink hadn't seeped through too many layers and made them unreadable. I blew on the ink stain to dry it that much sooner, and deciphered the words that the stain had swallowed to write them down in pencil against the stain.
And that's how Ned found me, being ridiculously unproductive, while our customer seemed to be gathering data about everyone on the planet: the man had already opened 20 tabs in the past 10 minutes. Ned was holding a cup holder with three cups in one hand, and in the other he had tiny boxes of sandwiches.
"Tomato and cheese" he said, putting box in front of me, "and cafe mocha"
"Ned, that's totally unnecessary" I said in thanks, "Thank you, all the same" I added when he looked at me pointedly. Then he walked to the customer.
"Here, brought you a latte" he told the man, "And a sandwich"
"I didn't ask for it" Stranger replied.
"You looked irritated, which is a sign of hunger"
Ned's argument was always something like this: you're irritated because you're hungry, you're tired because you're hungry, you have insomnia because you're hungry. Somehow, it seemed like Ned wanted to solve all the problems in the world by feeding people.
"It's on the house" Ned assured the stranger, "Happy browsing"
Ned walked back to the counter, and I shuffled to the more interior stool to offer him the one I was sitting on. Ned took the stool out from behind the counter and sat at the far end of the counter, sipping his own coffee and opening up his sandwich.
"Ink spill?" he inquired looking at me being chaotic behind the counter.
"Yea" I mumbled, "Sorry, I'll clean it up quickly"
"No worries" he replies swiftly, "you should eat and drink your coffee before it gets cold"
"Let me finish this bit"
Ned nodded and sipped his coffee. I continued to dry out the pages that had ink on them.
"You should switch to paperless" Ned suggested, when I'd finished drying the pages and stacked them by page number, and used a binder clip to keep them in place.
"I don't know if I'd like that" I admitted, though it sounded great.
"I think you might" he said assuredly.
"Do either of you know where the Sparrow Academy might be head-quartered?" Mr. Stranger was standing across the counter, scowling at us. Ned frowned.
"Sparrow?" he repeated, "Is that a private school?"
"It's the Sparrow Academy" he insisted, "everyone knows the Sparrow Academy!"
"Google didn't help?" Ned asked, at which the stranger's frown deepened.
"Useless" Stranger muttered, "I'm done now, so if you could give me the discount" he turned to me. I returned his 5 dollars.
"I paid 5" he said.
"It's on the house" Ned replied, "Come back anytime you need anything"
Stranger rolled his eyes and left. Ned smiled after him, then at the empty coffee cup and the sandwiches that had been consumed.
"Poor guy"
"Ned, he might not be homeless. He looks posh" I said, unwrapping my sandwich.
"Yea. He might've been posh, but right now, he looks lost" Ned mumbled, standing up to pick up the remnants of the Stranger's meal, "It's difficult for rich people to lose everything suddenly, they don't know how to cope."
I ate my sandwich, washed it down with the coffee, then began dusting the bookshelves on the ground level. Ned wandered to his favourite reading spot on the first floor, that gave him the view of the street and the entrance to the store, while I dusted. The hours flew by as I attempted to write once again, this time I was more successful in doing so, and wrote nearly an entire page before I could no longer go on.
Around 5, when both Ned and I were in our book daze on different floors, the door chimed and broke the spell we were under. I turned to the entrance and scowled. Stranger was back. I was not happy. Ned came down the stairs, yawning absently. Stranger stood in the entrance, looking at me and Ned and back several times.
"You're back" Ned exclaimed, sounding excited, "Long day?"
"You're Reginald Hargreeves' son?" he was staring at Ned. Ned frowned.
"Technically, I'm his adopted son, and also, we've severed ties awhile ago"
"You! You're the reason!" Stranger charged towards Ned to seize him by his shirt collar.
Ned scowled, while I looked at the exchange with wide unbelieving eyes.
"Zia" Ned turned to me, "why don't you call it a day?"
Ned forced the stranger to let go of his collar, which was difficult, all the while he was looking at me reassuringly.
"Should I call the police?" I wondered as stranger let go of the collar.
"No need for that!" Ned smiled, "Zia, it's OK"
"But..."
Ned smiled again, "I'll be fine, you should go home."
I did not want to leave. Of course, I didn't want to stay either, but most of all, I didn't want this stranger in the shop anymore, not in the shop, not in my life.
"I think I'll stay" I said firmly, pulling out my phone, "And call the police if anything happens"
Ned smiled sadly at me, then at the stranger.
"Why don't we sit down, and you can tell me what's the matter?" Ned said, looking at the stranger.
The stranger was now glaring daggers at Ned, and did not look away from him.
"I'm supposed to be his son! His number one!"
"Reginald Hargreeves'?" Ned raised an eyebrow, "He's his own number one, kid. The man wouldn't care if I dropped dead right now, or you, it would seem"
"Why don't you start from the beginning?"
"Reginald Hargreeves founded the Sparrow Academy in 1989 after adopting 7 extraordinary children" the stranger grudgingly began, "And I am their number one. My brothers and sisters were lost during a time-space jump that altered the timeline such that he adopted you instead of us. And now, he has no recollection of the Sparrows, or of me..."
"Alternate timeline" Ned nodded, "Sounds like something dear old dad would get himself involved in... You know my name, but I don't know yours'"
The stranger looked up at him with a glare, "Ben Hargreeves" he muttered. Ned smiled.
"My baby brother!" Ned cooed standing to give the stranger, 'Ben', a hug. Ben did not like hugs, it seemed, for he held out his hand to prevent Ned's approach into his personal space.
"I am not anybody's baby brother!" Ben declared harshly. Ned nodded.
"If you're from an alternate timeline-"
"You can't just take his word for it" I interrupted, making both men turn to me, "he might be a liar, a thief, or someone much worse"
"That's true" Ned agreed, "But if he put so much effort into his backstory, I think we should give him some benefit of doubt."
"That's a terrible idea" I chimed in once again, "Ned, this story is great, it would make good sci-fi, but come on! You can't believe him! Your adoptive brother from an alternate timeline! What does that make you in this timeline? Why should we take his word for it?"
Ned scowled as he contemplated my words, while Ben gave me a quizzical look, as if my doubting his background was somehow something admirable. I knew I was scowling. I also knew I was running out of patience. I wanted to call the authorities and hand over this man who was clearly mentally unstable.
"It is slightly unbelievable" he agreed, "I didn't think we'd arrive in an alternate timeline where dad hadn't adopted us or created the Sparrow Academy" he scowled at the floor, "You have reasonable doubt" He was staring at me now, and I did not like that at all!
"Don't mind her, Ben" Ned assured, clapping his shoulder in a friendly, non-threatening way, "Zia doesn't trust anyone. It's not just you"
I suppose Ned had a point. Who knew being kicked out by one's own parents would have such lasting effects?
"He was stalking me through Obsidian Park last night" I informed, "And turns up at my workplace this morning? Then somehow turns into your adoptive-brother from an alternate timeline? It just seems awfully co-incidental, and convenient"
Ned frowned.
"You stalked her through the park?" he asked Ben, who scowled at me, as if it were my fault he was chasing after me last night.
"I was lost... I asked for directions, and she ran! So I followed her" he gestured with his hands, "It's not my fault she misunderstood the situation"
Ned scowled at him.
"She was alone in the park and you approached her?" he repeated, "That one's on you, Baby Bro"
"We are not brothers"
"Great! Get out" I finished before they could drag this on, "Your presence makes me uncomfortable, so leave and never come back"
"Fine!" he huffed childishly, then turned and walked away. Ned frowned as his gaze followed him out.
"Zia, close up shop for me" Ned said, before he was chasing after Ben, leaving me alone in the shop. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. I took several deep breaths to calm myself down, hoping it would calm my mind and relax me. But anger was not something that would leave easily. I sighed to myself, at myself, and decided to close up the store. I was in no mood to take the bus during rush hour, so I'd have to leave right away to avoid it. I went around the shop, ensuring all the windows were shut and locked, made an entry in the daily ledger, took my jacket and bag and the shop keys, then rolled down the shutter and closed up.
Tofu greeted me by meowing at me the moment I entered.
"Sorry, were you worried, Tofu?" I asked kneeling down to pet him gently. He purred as long as I was petting him, and I felt better the longer I did.
"Met that stalker again today" I mumbled absently, "Should I just quit?"
Tofu was now across the room, meowing at his empty bowl. I stood and went to feed him, and give him water: I'd been too rushed this morning and forgotten to refill both bowls.
I took a shower, washing off the day's efforts in soap that smelled like jasmine. I don't know if I smelled like it after using it, but the soap was definitely, distinctly, jasmine.
Tofu meowed and hurried to the bed as I plunked down onto it, exhausted, mentally and physically, just wanting the day to end. Tofu took the opportunity to climb into my lap and meowed at me. I had yet to eat a decent meal since the sandwiches this morning, and I was in no mood to start from scratch. I wondered absently what Ned was planning to do with the stranger: to trust him or not.
I wondered if the man was out on the streets now, waiting for me to make my next move: the thought paralyzed me entirely, and for a few long minutes, I lay in bed, unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to do anything...
Tofu moved to my chest and purred...
I remembered how to breathe...
I put my hand on Tofu and felt his purr transmit into my palms: it was soothing... and reassuring... I cried then, unable to hold back my tears anymore...
And then, I was out like a broken light.
I woke up before dawn. The sky was still dark blue, and the world was quiet, but I was hungry. Tofu was sleeping beside my head, but opened his eyes when I sat up. I scratched his head fondly, reassuringly, and he yawned and closed his eyes once again, though his ears were still perked up, alert. I smiled at my companion and went to the bathroom to relieve myself, then went straight to the kitchen and opened the fridge. No left-overs that I could re-heat and pretend it was a proper meal. With a sigh, I decided to make myself a hearty breakfast: eggs, toast, and a fruit salad, for now. I put the kettle on to brew my daily dose of caffeine and then got started on the eggs.
15 minutes later, my plate was worthy of being criticized by Gordon Ramsay for being too vegetarian, but not vegan enough, and that was good enough for me. I drank a glass of water and started to eat. Tofu padded into the room quietly and meowed at me. I'd put his portion of eggs on his plate, which I now deposited on the counter beside me, where he hopped up, sniffed and began to eat. He was good company, Tofu. He knew when I needed comfort, and when to leave me alone. Once I'd finished, I cleaned up, sipping my coffee, which I'd only consumed half of what I'd brewed. I cleaned up Tofu's bowls and refilled his water, cleaned the litter box, dusted the open shelves, and then opened my laptop to transfer my handwritten notes to electronic. Tofu lounged on the stool beside mine, tail moving curiously, so I reached out to give him a back-rub. He bit my hand in retaliation. And I decided to do the work instead. Life would have to go on.