Hidden In Plain Sight

Part 2

As you were finishing up the pasta, a deep sense of regret loomed over you. That feeling of regret then festered into anxiety. What if he saw you as a liability now that you not only knew his true identity, but where he lived? Nonetheless, seeing what would have been his dinner really tugged at your heart. He was doing so much around the city, putting in hours and hours of physical labor and coming home to eat microwave dinners. You knew what that was like to an extent, but you couldn't imagine how heavy that could be. After the dinner was all set and done, you went into your room and fixed your hair a bit and changed into leggings and a sweatshirt. When the doorbell rang, you jumped out of your skin. When you opened the door, he was standing there with a half smile on his face. He had a busted lip and a cut above his eyebrow. You could tell he'd just showered because his hair was wet and he smelt like dove soap. You smiled back and moved to the side to let him walk in. He was wearing a gray hoodie and blue jeans, and his hair was brushed to the side. You closed the door and directed him to the small dining room table that took up most of the kitchen.

"Sorry I know it's a little cramped in here but I loved the table so much I didn't really think about measurements," you said, setting a plate of pasta and caesar salad in front of him.

"Wow, this looks amazing, thank you so much," he said while taking his fork and hauling a forkful into his mouth; not obnoxiously, more like someone who hasn't eaten after a busy day.

"Well, thank you, even if I don't have people over, I always end up making too much. Soda or water? Oh, I have lemonade too," you said while looking into your white refrigerator.

"Water would be great, thank you," he said.

After you sat down, you ate in silence for a while. You didn't feel like there was an awkward vibe because it's not like you're gonna conversate with a mouth full of pasta or salad. He was finishing up his second bowl by the time you were finishing your wrapped up with your original plate. The longer the silence went on, the more you felt like the elephant in the room was growing. You knew that he remembers that morning on the subway but you didn't want to be the one to bring it up.. at first. Then after thinking about it for a moment, why shouldn't you have brought it up. It would be one thing if after the crash, you never saw him again. You had seen him in your statistics class and he moved into your apartment building. The more and more you let your mind snowball these ideas, you were becoming more pressured to break the ice. He thanked you again for the dinner as you were walking his plea to the sink. He'd offered to take his own plate but you insisted. After washing the orange residue off the white porcelain plates, you dried your hands with a washcloth. You took a deep breath before turning around and confronting him.

"You're the guy from the bridge right?" you felt like your tone came off a little aggressive so you sat back down in your chair to compensate.

"I don't know what you're talking about, are you saying like, you recognize me from around here or some-" you cut his painfully obvious lie off.

"Please, I understand why you wouldn't want anyone to know and normally I would let it go. I would but, first I saw you on that subway car. Then Amarita introduces us and new neighbors and then I saw you today in class. I feel like I'm going crazy, please don't think I'm asking because.. I-I want to use it against you. I just need to know because I can't stop thinking about it and it doesn't help when you're all around me," you said, talking softly and resting your hands on the table. He didn't say anything for a couple moments, he just made intense eye contact before looking down at his hands that we rested in his lap.

"Its-" he looked up and took a shaky breath before looking back down and continuing, "the last time people around me found out.. They got hurt and I lost them. I understand that I can't gaslight you into thinking it's not true but..this is so hard because the wound that I got last time I was unmasked is so fresh that I can't stop the bleeding. Please know that if this gets out again not only will all of New York be gonna hate me and I don't have any of my family left to help me through that and-" tears were now flowing from his face, making the dark bags under his eyes even more apparent.