Killing with Kindness

Chapter 2

Biting my lip nervously, I made a mental checklist of what I had to do.
-Be nice
-Not be awkward
-Not be stupid
-And not mess up.
In other words, I couldn't be me.
I brush off my worn jeans, there was nothing on them anyways, and look at my appearance in the mirror. I had shaved for once, though I had noticeable dark circles under my eyes. It was an ominous sign of my worries over my son. Eddie's looking at me curiously now. He's never seen me try to impress anyone. With one last look at my tan skin and messy chestnut hair, I'm out the door. 
This girl's apartment isn't far, so I make the effort to walk there. Actually, nothing is far in this little midget of a town, but us folks like keeping cars to show our "status" or something. It's a stupid culture thing, but I can't say much since I hold ownership over my car. I sigh and look up at the noticeably new, red brick apartment building looming over me. She's much better off than I am. That probably has to do with her wealthy family, but I'm going to avoid thinking about her shameful heritage as much as possible.
Carefully, I swing my messenger bag to my back and brace myself to enter the sophisticated home this girl has. Something is nagging me in the back of my mind, though I can't pinpoint what it is exactly. I shake the thought out of my mind so I can locate her apartment in the maze of the millions of artistic majors who live in this part of town. She told me where it was, I swear she did. Her friend made sure of it as I wrote the number down on my crumpled coffee receipt. That didn't stop me from being absolutely lost, obviously. My eyes sweep nervously around the doors until the right numbers catch my  tired eyes. Thank God! I don't know what I would have done if I were late. Probably stumble awkwardly, losing her attention.  And losing her would be tragic to me, and to Eddie.
The door opens suddenly, so I can't think about this long. Ana's wearing an oversized sweater yet again, which isn't a surprise. Every single time I was stuck stalking her that was all I saw her in.  It's truly incredible how much variety one can have in sweaters. All pastel colors, neutrals, and patterns seemed to be in her collection.
I see that Ana noticed my gaze, and she covers her midsection self- consciously. Crap, I'm messing this up already without even saying a word!
"Um, hi... you can come in. Sorry about the mess, I've been writing again."
With a forced sense of confidence, I stride into her home. I plaster on a smile at Ana on my way in until I'm stopped in my tracks. Her home looks like it popped right out of my sister's Pinterest board. It really was unbelievable.  The colors were in various shades of a leafy green, robin's egg, and sunshine yellow. Prints covered the walls, some which I recognized from my sister's painful suggestions on how to remodel my humble country house. There was an alarming amount of houseplants covering every surface, and several old mugs with eclectic designs at every table. Yeah, I can tell she's been working based on the disarray of objects strewn throughout the place. Down to my side I see Ana looking at her own living room with me, however she looks  fairly uncomfortable while I look amazed.
"Dude, your apartment looks exactly like you would seem to be." I say, voicing my thoughts. This earns me a confused look and then a modest smile. "Oh, and thanks for letting me come over," I add hastily, realizing my social mistake.
"Oh it's no problem, I needed some social interaction anyway." She laughs, "I've been holed up trying to edit my works. It's a mess, you know..." Ana looks away, almost afraid to speak more. 
"But that's so cool, tell me about it." I plop down onto her clean, white.modern futon and look up at her expectantly.
"Well, it's a sort of novel. Not very good, but I'm doing it for fun. You see, that's why I write."
"Wow, I could never do something like that, so be sure to count it as better than I would," I respond with a bit of a chortle.
Her eyes have widened considerably, unease is clearly displayed on her face.
That's when she cuts me off, blurting out,
"Alright, enough about me. We should get started with your... Uh, thing."
"Right!" I quickly hop off of the futon to grab my bag. "So, my 'thing' is supposed to be an essay about modern literature but as you can probably tell, I have no idea what that's supposed to mean."
"Well, something modern and influential to most millennials now would be Harry Potter. It has shaped countless lives. Though there are many other important books that I would consider modern literature. Like, umm... The Giver. Everywhere you look there are books that deal with important issues in today's society,"  she continues going on and on about the subject, and I'm surprisingly enjoying the way she looks incredibly interested in what she's doing. Her hands are moving in a wide range of the space in front of her, and her eyes are huge with wonder.
"Well, I'm already getting carried away, what do you think about what you will write?" 
"Umm... I'm still deciding. I've seen the Harry Potter movies, so I guess I could do that,"
"It's not the same thing... but if you read the books it might work," She looks a little abashed that I haven't read this ever so famous series. I roll my eyes playfully instead of apologizing for my apparent mistake.
"Maybe you can explain to me what happens in the books that would make me actually want to read?" Ana gasps and swats at my arm.
"It's more than just a book to be sold, you know!" She replies fiercely, surprising me. "But, as a Ravenclaw, it is my duty to show you why these books have influenced so many people." She replies wisely, trying to sit up straight but falling into a fit of giggling. She then composes herself, ready to go more into the subject of the *marvelous* series. We go on like this for a while and I'm surprisingly able to keep up. She's actually making me interested in what she's saying, and I forget what I'm actually here for.
When I realize that I'm starting to enjoy myself, I visibly recoil.. I cannot get close, after all, this would mean me getting hurt. Or worse, me failing to do my job. My relaxed posture stiffens, and my lazy smile falls.
Ana senses my change in mood, and looks instantly hurt. It's as if I've wounded a puppy with my actions. How am I supposed to do this right? 
"I have to go to the bathroom," I state abruptly and get up from my comfortable spot beside her. Looking wildly, I try to locate her restroom, with no avail. Ana points halfheartedly in the direction I need to go then looks back down to the papers crowding around her.
Once I reach the restroom, I stare at myself in the mirror, close my stormy eyes to block away the harsh grey of my irises, then slowly open my eyes up again. My reflection shows how incredulously conflicted I am. Getting too close to her would maim me and endanger the job, yet staying far away could make me lose her attention completely. Not to mention how I also have to refrain from accidentally hurting her feelings, which would rupture the false sense of a budding friendship.I grunt in defeat and stumble up and away from the mirror, my hands clawing at my hair. Composing myself, I form a forced smile and ready myself to enter my world of lies.
" I can do this. It's for Eddie. I will not fail my little bud. Not ever." I rehearse this train of thoughts to keep me determined. Then out the door I go.
"So I guess you really like Harry Potter." I begin to say. Shit, of course she likes Harry Potter. Gwyn, you've been talking to her about it for how freaking long?
"Lucky for you, I've been convinced, and soon I'll be a fully fledged Potterheart,  or Potterhead I think."  Lies, of course, but then that is what I seem to be best at. Anyhow, she looks up at me with a bit of uncertain hope etched in her gaze. Maybe I haven't screwed this up as much as I thought I did. She brightens a bit and squeals with joy, but the moment didn't last long.
"Well, I guess you'd have to read the books to not fail your essay..." She fidgets with a bit of thread coming off of an embroidered bee stitched into a throw pillow nervously.
Still, she continues,"You can get back to me after you've read the first one. I mean, you've gotten insanely far in Moby Dick since the last time I saw you so I assume you're a fast reader. I think you've done enough for today."  She's trying to get rid of me, I can tell. But then, I'm not really what you'd call a "perfect" guest. I take the hint and get up off the arm of the futon, fumbling for my papers. She rises and hurriedly slides on her hardwood floors to the doorway.
I have to find a way to dismiss myself without being ungrateful. Though it's probably not the best way to say bye, I conclude with,
"Well... thank you for the help. I'll be sure to get back to you." She looks at me with sad, sapphire-green eyes as I back out of her home awkwardly and ease the door closed.
That was not how I had it planned, but it is what happened. At least now I know how to act next time. And there will be a next time. I shove my hands into my coat pockets and shoulder my way out of the apartment complex into the brisk autumn air.
I will carry through this, no matter how awkward it is. I have to save Eddie, and that is exactly what I will do. On my way home, I think of what my next move will be, and this time, I will have a plan.