Chapter 8: When forgotten one's meet

Mom! I'm home. I've done all the chores. Now, please don't disturb me. I'm going to lock my door and do some work."

Sara put the AirPods back into their case.

"I should have listened to Uncle Caleb. I don't know why, but I'm just feeling guilty right now. Taking an old man's bad wish... I might get into trouble."

She sighed.

"Let's see... it's the weekend, huh? But I've got to move my lazy a##. Please, God, give us a Writers' Labour Day."

She plopped down on her chair.

"Now again, open the laptop, open the blank page, and... wait. Why is the drawer open? I've never unlocked it. Anyways! Maybe the lock got rusty."

Shrugging it off, she opened her laptop.

"Where were we? Yes. And now, just stare at it."

*

"You're opening a marriage bureau? You do realize it's the era of online dating apps, right? And you're still going to follow old-school methods?"

Elaine replied with a calm tone, "I just want to solve that problem—when people blame others for their disastrous marriages."

"Oh, lady, you're not going to give up, are you? Optimistic type, I see. Okay, here's my number. Call me if you want my help. I'm always available—like all the unemployed people are."

"It's 2 p.m. I'd better hurry. I need to rent an apartment. Otherwise, I'll spend another night on the street. I'm too guilty to ask Liam for any favor. Let's check today's paper for ads."

She scanned the page.

"That one will do. Monthly rent: $800."

Elaine knocked on a door.

"Yes, miss?"

"You gave the ad for the apartment? I'm Elaine. I want to move in. Can you please share your account number so I can transfer some advance?"

"Sorry, lady. Only cash here. I don't believe in this goddamn account system," the old man replied in a grumbling way.

"Okay, then I'll take out the cash. Please don't give it to someone else."

Elaine ran towards the local ATM.

"Stupid. No one's going to buy my rusty apartment; it's been 50 years. Don't know why you want it. Hey, are you listening?" the old man asked his dog, sitting back on his chair. "I'm gonna wait."

Elaine arrived at the ATM.

"Okay, this is my last 50,000. Do you want to withdraw 50,000?" the machine prompted.

"Yes!"

Elaine walked out of the ATM with the money in hand.

"Ah, mister, please don't run on the footpath!"

Elaine stumbled.

"You should watch yourself, stupid lady!"

"Ken! You're here?"

"Elaine, what's in your hand? Is that—? Give me that!"

"No, stay away!"

(Elaine tried to run, but Ken stopped her.)

"I said, give me the fu##ing money. I know you have it! I've known from the very beginning. But your selfish, greedy hands wouldn't share."

(Elaine slapped Ken.)

"What did you say? You gruesome bastard! Just stay out of my life."

"Oh, I'm the bastard now? Then tell me, where did you get all that heavy money from, huh? Probably from another bastard, right? Don't you dare slap me again. Now hand over that money!"

Ken kicked Elaine and snatched the money from her hands.

"You'd better stay on the streets, whore!"

Ken ran off, juggling the money in the air.

Elaine wiped her tears and collected the creased dollars from the street.

"Oh, you came back," the old man said, seeing Elaine.

"What happened? Why is your face suddenly all red?"

"Nothing. I just... I'm short on money. Can we please adjust?"

"Okay, no worries. You can give me what you have right now. I'll manage," the old man said in a polite manner.

"Here, just $90. I promise I'll pay you as soon as possible."

Elaine handed the creased $90 to the old man and walked away.

"Don't you want to see the apartment?" the old man shouted.

Elaine nodded across the road.

(Bikes and car horns blaring.)

"Ma'am, please, can you take me to the bakery that makes that special chocolate? I don't know the location," an old woman with a stick asked Elaine as she passed by.

"Yes, sure, mother. Here, take my hand."

"Oh, you're such a sweet little girl."

"I have the birthday of my grandson, and I want to surprise him with my favorite chocolate cake today," the old woman mumbled.

They arrived at the bakery.

"Good evening. One chocolate chip cake, please."

"Sure, ma'am. Drop the payment over there; we've just changed the location."

"Mother, you have to put cash in that machine."

"Oh, okay." The old woman checked her pockets. "Oh no, I forgot to take the money again," she laughed nervously.

"But I also don't have any money," Elaine said, her face growing nervous as customers began staring at them.

"I'll pay, don't worry."

"Liam! You..."

"I prefer eating sweets for dinner, so I always come to this bakery."

He handed over the money.

"Your order is ready, ma'am," the manager said.

"Oh, thank you, young boy!" The old woman grabbed Liam's cheeks and squeezed them.

"Here's your cake, mother."

"Can you do me one more favor? Can you take me to my home? Here's the address—it's written on my locket."

"Sure, mother."

"Taxi!" Liam whistled.

"This address, please," he instructed the driver.

"You didn't tell me you started taking care of old women," Liam asked Elaine quietly.

But Elaine remained silent.

"Here's your stop," the driver announced.

"Now, mother, where's your home?"

"Home? I don't remember."

"What?"

"Hey, old woman, where did you go? I've been searching for you for hours!"

"Where did you find her, mister?" the man asked Liam.

"She asked me to take her to a bakery," Elaine replied. "Can you tell me where her home is?"

"Oh no, she made you buy a chocolate cake again, didn't she? She doesn't have a home. Her son and his wife abandoned her about four years ago. But she can't help herself from remembering her grandson's birthday, I guess. She stays with me during the day in my shop, and at night, I take her to the center. Sorry for the trouble."