Mistakes Made ✅

Epilogue

Six Months Later

"Turn off your alarm,"

Errol grunted in his sleep and shifted his body closer to Jordie, as though the mere proximity would drown out Single Ladies that was currently blasting from his phone.

"Errol,"

"You're awake," Errol replied groggily, "why don't you turn it off?"

"'Cause I don't have a bloody long arm and your phone is placed on the other side of the continent," the latter remarked. "Turn the blasted thing off."

With a heavy groan, Errol turned around and blindly reached for his phone from the bedside table. He came to realise that it was, in fact, not an alarm. Why would he set an alarm when he had Jordie to stir him with his noisy rummagings around the closet in the mornings? By now, Errol had committed to memory every swear word – even the ones in Chinese – that had ever slipped out of the boy's tongue whenever he misplaced his garments.

Opening a bleary eye, Abeela's name flashed across the screen. He stared at it, his brain still trying to connect to the world, before he answered it.

"What." That was his greeting.

"Grumpy," commented Abeela on the line. "I'm assuming you just woke up? It's like, eleven."

"Mhmm," Errol rubbed the heel of his palm on his eyes. "What's up?"

"Sorry, you can go back to sleep—"

"Nope, no, no, I'm awake," Errol sat up on the bed, trying to clear the sleep out of his system. "To what do I owe you the pleasure of speaking at past eleven in the morning of Saturday?"

"Um ..."

She took her time to answer that Errol nearly dozed off right there and then. Though, he was aware that Jordie was currently tracing the pad of his forefinger down his spine. He chewed his bottom lip, trying to suppress a giggle from escaping his mouth. Jordie knew he was ticklish.

"I need someone to pick me up ..."

Abeela sounded hesitant. Bold, sarcastic Abeela Fathah. Hesitant? Regardless of having just woken up, Errol could already arrange the pieces altogether. "And you require my favour?" he said, feeling flattered to an extent. As far as he was concerned, the girl was her own boss.

"Yes ..."

Errol chuckled. "What, d'you have me on your speed dial or something?"

"Well – I mean—"

"You do!" Errol said aloud. "Because you have me in your faith!"

"I just have nobody else to talk to," she said in her characteristically miffed tone.

Errol was awed. She might not candidly confirm it, but his hunches told him that his deduction was valid. "Beela, I love you more than anything in the world right now,"

Errol practically squealed when he felt fingers pinch his bare hip. "Jordie, I swear to God I will tear off your foreskin if you keep doing that," he said, chancing a sideway glance at the boy, who remained looking innocent.

"Excuse me?" Abeela sounded horrified.

"No, I wasn't talking to you—"

"Yeah, I know," she said. "Just tell me at least you're dressed."

Errol threw a sheepish glance at the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed and decided not to touch on that subject further. "So, the objective of this call," he brought back. "The favour? You need me to pick you up? Where are you?"