'Cause I Like Him Too Much

Chapter One

  I looked at its foggy windows as the train kept moving on the rails bound to some place called Liverpool. I have never been in there, actually. Born and raised in Durham. This was the very first time to travel, leaving my hometown, my father, leaving the innocent little girl I was back there. It was some sort of a good feeling you know. That something new awaits you.

Not quite long, the train has stopped, its engine whistling. I went out and saw my fellow passengers greeted by their friends and loved ones with smiles and hugs and kisses while there was no one there  for me, I had to walk alone, find this address written on a crumpled piece of paper for a place to stay, who am I fooling, I don’t even know where to go, what is this place?!, I just stood there in the station, with a suitcase in my  right hand and a guitar in the other. I was  thinking of crying, rushing to my Papa’s arms, but no. He wasn’t there anymore. And I believed I was lost.

“Excuse me, miss.”, a smiling gentleman in a black leather jacket approached me. “But why would a lovely girl like you be staying in this noisy and nasty place?”,

I felt uncomfortable hearing that word. Lovely? Never heard somebody calling me that till now. Back home, if a man calls a woman like that, it means that they’re twitterpated. That is all. Now, he was just saying that. I’m not so fond of flattery. I got the paper out of my coat’s pocket and handed it to him, “Can you please tell me where to—”

” ‘164 Pixton Blg. Matthew Street’.”, he read. “What a coincidence.”, he smiled again, this time, revealing his cute pair of dimples. “Come on, I’ll take you there.”

  “Is it where you’re going too?”, I soon felt a frisson of relief.

“Uhm, no. But a few blocks away from that building”. I saw him looked at me which led me thinking if I got smudge on my face, or if I looked horrible. He giggled and asked. “Would you like to take a cab instead?”.

“I could use a walk.”, I shook my head. “To familiarize myself with this place.

  He nodded. “Then I’ll take this for you”, he carried my suitcase. “And this,” he took over in carrying the guitar too. “Nice one”, he must have known it was a hand-made classical guitar I brought.

  “Thanks. But you don’t have to do it. I can carry them both.”

“No it’s okay,” he insisted.

We began walking and me, eyes on the ground, didn’t know where to look. No, not to him. He was so cool and charming and I barely even knew him, things were a bit awkward until he stopped for a moment, and so did I, to see if there was something wrong. He reached out his hand and with that smile of his, he introduced himself.

“I’m Paul.”

“H-Hannah”, I took his hand, squeezing it almost and shook it as I simpered. Surely it was such a stupid thing to do. But my insides were shaking and if I would just ignore it, I might fall. And I wouldn’t want to, especially in front of this man.

*********

  We stopped by at an old creepy loft in the middle of the smorgasbord of  shops and clubs in the city. The noises of the train and ships weren’t at all vivid for  the people were parading like ants, some were in groups arguing inside a store, others could be seen on the bar’s windows feasting on beer and shouting at each other. All of these reflecting in my head, making me realize how very, very far I was from home. Paul stepped forward to the building’s door, knocking three times. The door opened and a  curly red-haired woman probably in her fifties came out, approaching us with a warm atmosphere coming from her house.

  “Hello dear.”, she softly pinched my chin. “You must be Vincent Gordon’s beautiful daughter.

 

She knew my father? Does she know me as well?, I couldn’t recall  meeting her. Not even a little. I just cluelessly stared at her.

“Oh, sorry.”, she chuckled. “I am your Aunt Anne, you father’s older cousin. Last time I went to Durham, you were still in the cradle. That was very long time, and look at you.”

Now my day was certainly made with glee. I didn’t only meet a friend. Paul’s a friend now am I right? But I also met a relative who already knew me from the start. I didn’t say anything but hugged my aunt instead and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Come in you two.”, she widened the opening the door and we went inside. I helped Paul with the things that was supposed to be my responsibility  Although undeniably old, still the house got its charms. Quilted carpets were arranged in the living room, near the fireplace, I could just lie down till I wanted, the room was so warm, I didn’t realize I was starving until I smelled the aroma of a familiar dish Papa used to cook. Cream corn, boiling on the stove. Aunt Anne invited called us to go to the table, and I wasted no time. I sat down next to Paul and Aunt Anne came with the meal. She filled one bowl for me and another one for Paul. Not that I have forgotten about table manners but my tum was so eager to be alive I forgot to use a napkin.

  “So, Paul,” she asked after sitting down to join us. “How did you happen to meet Hannah?”.

  Wait. She knows Paul? Are they related too? 

 “Uhm.”, Paul blinked, seemed thinking what to answer. “You see Mrs. Grant, your niece here needed help and I”—-

“Well that’s very kind of you, lad.”, she patted Paul’s shoulder. “And what you did is good you know since Hannah is going to need friends you may be able to help her find some, right dear?”, she turned to me.

  “I-I guess”.

 “Don’t worry Mrs. Grant. I’ll take care of her.”, Paul glanced at me and gave me a wink.