The Love Pill

29. Manuel

Rebecca Armstrong

I was awoken by an annoying, repetitive noise. I groaned and turned in my bed, trying to block the sound out. I even pulled the pillow over my head, but the sharp sound my doorbell made, penetrated everything.

Grunting I stood up and stumbled towards the front door. I jerked the door open and quickly shut my eyes, trying to block out the blinding sunlight.

'What do you want.' I spit out, not bothering to be polite. Whoever woke me up, could enjoy the wrath of my temper in the morning.

'Becky? God, you've grown so much. You are a lady!' a deep voice excitedly yelled, pulling me in a sudden hug. I squealed and tried to escape the bone crushing arms.

'You won't remember me, but I'm Manuel Iciar. I met you when you were about five years old.' the man said, holding his hand about one meter above the ground. He smiled and I noticed he couldn't take his eyes off of me. I shuffled to the left; his eyes followed to the left. I moved a bit to the right, and so did his eyes.

'Again, what do you want?' I asked, this time in a less threatening tone. Keyword: less. I was still pissed off and hoped he had a good enough reason to wake me at...

I glanced at my watch. 5:23 am. Way too early.

'I came here because of your father. My condolences. He was like a brother to me. We served together.' the man named Manuel said.

I looked in his eyes and saw sincerity, love and the same grief I felt.

I curtly nodded and stepped aside, silently inviting him into my home. He gratefully smiled and walked inside. I took his coat, guided him into my kitchen and started the coffee machine. For a while, it was the only sound in the kitchen, until he spoke up again.

'I'm sorry I missed his funeral. I was stuck somewhere and couldn't make it. That's why it took me this long to reach you' I dismissively waved my hand, pulled open a drawer and grabbed two mugs.

'Coffee?' I asked, showing him the mugs.

The man nodded his head and we fell back into silence.

I gave him a filled mug and sat down at the opposite side of the table. We silently studied each other. He was a giant man, with huge muscles and broad shoulders.

He looked like he could easily kill a wild boar with his bare hands or wrestle a mountain bear and come out victorious.

But besides that, he had gentle eyes. I took a closer look and noticed the little tattoo on his clavicle. It was a very small flag, waving in the wind, with underneath a sentence that I knew like the back of my hand.

Loyalty is always returned.

My father used to have that very same tattoo. His was placed over his back and I liked to look at it when I was a child. I used to ask why he had a flag on his back.

He explained what the tattoo meant to him. He taught me the meaning of loyalty.

Since this man bore the same tattoo, my father must have been very close to him.

'Tell me about my dad?' I asked, the little girl in me wanting to hear about her heroic father. Manuel nodded and started talking about my father, his deep voice strangely soothing.

I don't know how long we sat there, at my kitchen table, Manuel just telling stories and me listening.

We could have sat there for an eternity if we weren't human and needed food. Luckily, my stomach decided to remind us of and growled like a wild animal.