Ice Cream

Chapter Eight

CHIKÉ

"So why don't you take alcohol? Is there a specific reason?" Her question caught me completely off guard. I thought I would be the one asking all the questions and even if she wanted to reciprocate, she'd ask trivial questions, not jumping straight to asking my newest alcohol abstinence. I couldn't divulge my illness to her because I knew she would run for the hills if I did. I had to come up with something that would not be a lie but hopefully omit the truth. I cleared my lump in my throat, so my proactive brain would get to work.

"I have just decided to watch my alcohol intake. I figured I have to live a healthy lifestyle." There! That was spot on but excluded my disease.

"True that! Most people think alcohol is so bitter that there's no way sugar could be found in its content. But beers have one of the highest levels of sugar. I don't know about the rest but I'm sure they're all terrible for the human body." She kept going on and on about the dangers of alcohol and I sighed in gratitude, grateful for the detour. I let her speak, wondering how to approach the subject at the train station, pondering if she truly had a connection with my supposed trance. I was hit by perplexity, not knowing what exactly to ask.

"Do you play any musical instruments?" was my straight forward interrogation. She looked at me and smiled then turned her gaze back to the road.

"Music is truly the only thing I'm good at. And yes I play a ton of musical instruments. Why do you ask?" She certainly had a way of turning the inquisition back to me. I decided to tell the truth to that.

"I saw you play the ukulele a couple weeks ago at a train station." I watched her think for some moments, wondering what the hell she was thinking about. Unexpectedly, she paused her movements and gazed at me in disbelief.

"Hold on a moment! Are you the weird guy at the Gare du Palais Train Station?" I halted my steps as well as I was gripped with astonishment that she recognized me. The weird guy? I worried over how I had acted that day and what the others thought of me. "You were the man in a fancy attire who kept mumbling as if singing with me that day?" Damn! She remembered me vividly. I sighed and nodded but would she understand if I told her I was watching my mum play that day and not her? No, she'd consider it absurd.

"Um, yeah. I am the 'weird guy'." I replied, making air quotes to emphasize my statement. "I'm sorry if I acted crazily that day. It was one of the worst days of my life. But it ended up being the best." I contemplated smiling to prove my point but she gave me a pointed look that further gave light to how weird I sounded still. It was the worst day and yet the best?

"Care to enlighten me? You seemed so... sad that day. I didn' stay long enough to ask you because something came up." the tone at the end of her words was tense, reminding me that the police had chased her out of the place. I noted she didn't explain further, everyone had their problems and secrets, so I kept my observations and my secrets, to myself.

I shrugged in response to her comment, hoping my silence put an end to her inquisition.
It did.

Consequently, as we went on, a homeless man approached us, beseeching us to give him something for the road. I looked past him hoping she would do the same but she surprised me—in the most negative way—by dipping her hands into her purse and handing some dollar bills to the man who smiled, thanking her profusely. I sneered as I watched the scene unfold, completely against the fact that she gave him part of the money she had worked so hard for.

"Why do you have that look on your face?" She enquired after the beggar's departure. For the first time this evening, this was a question I was comfortable with. It was my turn to ramble on and on.