FAR FROM ERIS • FreenBecky •

SEVEN

Becky pushed the door open with her shoulder while holding a bouquet of fresh flowers in one hand, a shopping bag in the other, and Freen's book under one arm. At first, she tried to push it open with her head, but that painfully reminded her of the bump she had gotten on the shelf in the back room that morning. And consequently: Freen. She smiled.

-I thought you weren't coming for lunch,- a woman's voice came from the kitchen.

-Well... I mean, I don't have many places to go- the girl gasped as she struggled to set things down on the table. -That sounded pretty sad now that I think about it- she muttered louder than intended.

-Truth is, it did- the woman said, appearing in the living room while drying her hands on a cloth.

-I hva something for you,- Becky said, handing the book to the elderly woman, who seemed not to understand until she read the title. Her eyes lit up.

-So, you've seen Freen- she said, smiling as she lowered her reading glasses from the top of her head, where they held her perfectly white hair. -Look at this...- she murmured, admiring the book, -she did it. I always knew she had an extraordinary talent and that eventually she would write her story.- She caressed the cover again. -What a marvel,- she murmured as she turned it over to see a young Freen with a half-smile on the back cover.

"And the water would return to that place with all the memories and the lives that were not lived. It would return without asking for permission or forgiveness. It would return seeking the peace it stole. The water would return because in the end, it always did, and there it would be, waiting for the rain to merge with it and run to the sea, rise to the sky, and fall to the earth to return to that girl with sad eyes, who always waited for it."

-I didn't think of Freen as a romantic,- the old woman said after reading the back cover of the book.

-The book isn't about love- Becky said-at least not in a strictly romantic sense.-

-Have you read it already?- the woman asked, looking at her over her glasses.

The girl sighed. Freen's book was wonderful. It was heartbreaking, sad, melancholic, and yet full of hope and light. She felt her chest tighten.

-It's okay- the girl said, trying to appear much less enthusiastic than she actually was.

-And Freen?- the woman asked.

-Excuse me, what?- Becky replied.

-What did you think of Freen?- The question caught Becky off guard, something that usually didn't happen to her.

-Why should I think anything?- she said, putting her hands in the pockets of her paint-stained sweatpants because suddenly she didn't know what to do with them.

-You must have talked, I suppose, I don't know. I can't imagine her throwing the book at you from the door and running away,- she said, taking off her glasses with a sigh. -I don't remember her being too athletic, to be honest.-

Becky didn't know how to answer that. What did she think of Freen? The image of her long black hair under the cap and her arms swinging at the sides of her body assaulted her stomach.

-No, she didn't throw the book at me. You're right about that,- Becky rolled her eyes. -I don't know. She seemed very nice. A bit chaotic, but I guess that's something artistic-

-And... have you thought about calling her?- Becky almost choked on her own saliva. The old woman wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to that question.

-I haven't thought about it,- she lied. -I really like the florist project, and that's going to be my main occupation while I'm here. I have a lot to fix before I can reopen it,- she sighed. -Besides, calling her and saying hey Freen, look, we don't know each other at all, but I'm alone in a new city and now I'm stalking you after reading your book in six hours. It seems like too much even for me.-

-Well, to me, it seems like a more appropriate start than the one you had planned,- said the old woman, running her wrinkled hands through her hair.

Becky sighed in frustration. She wasn't going to do it. Besides, she had plans for that night, even if Patty didn't know it. Becky often moved to a different city for several months, and her first stop was always the same. This time wouldn't be any different.

*