Five Years And A Lifetime Chapter 02
We were the only two occupants inside the private dining room. Arthur pulled off his face mask, revealing the striking features that had earned him the title of Most Kissable Male Celebrity across countless magazine polls.
I kept my eyes pinned to the menu on the table, my heart fluttering uncontrollably inside my chest.
“Aren’t you going to order anything?” His voice brimmed with amusement. “Or does staring at me fill your appetite?”
A warm flush instantly spread across my cheeks. “How on earth are you still…”
“Still what, exactly?”
After an agonizing pause, I managed to whisper, “Still so shamelessly cheeky.”
He burst out laughing, tapping his fingers twice on the menu choices. “BBQ ribs, lobster roll, Cobb salad, and…”
He flicked his eyes up to meet mine. “And this restaurant’s clam chowder is amazing. I remember it was your favorite.”
I froze in place. I hadn’t expected him to remember something like that after all these years.
A brief silence settled over the room. Setting down his glass, Arthur suddenly spoke up. “If it weren’t for you back then, I probably would never have made it this far.”
I looked up at him, genuinely confused. He adopted that familiar lazy tone of his. “On the day of our graduation, you lent me 50 dollars.”
Memories came flooding back like a tidal wave. On our senior year graduation day, Arthur had received a last-minute call for an audition. His mother opposed his acting dreams and had frozen all his bank cards. He’d cornered me at the back door of our classroom, leaning down slightly to look into my eyes. “Cathy, could you lend me 50 bucks for a taxi? My mom froze my cards.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, I reached into the inner pocket of my backpack and pulled out a handful of crumpled bills and coins.
Arthur was momentarily taken aback at the sight of that messy pile. “Wait, is this…”
“No, I still have plenty left,” I cut him off quickly, pressing the cash into his palm.
Asking no further questions, he grabbed his bag, waved the wad of money between two fingers, and let out a bright, reckless smile. “All right, I have a train to catch. Next time we see each other, I promise to pay you back 1 million dollars.”
That very night, I worked late washing dishes at a local restaurant, my wrists turning pale and wrinkled from the water. Yet all I could hold onto in my mind was the memory of Arthur’s parting grin.
That day, four grueling hours of scrubbing dishes earned me 40 dollars.
“So, I’m here today to honor my word.” The corner of Arthur’s mouth curved upwards as he picked up his phone and tapped away at the screen.
A soft chime echoed as my phone screen lit up. A notification flashed on the display, confirming a bank transfer of 1 million dollars into my account.
“No! I cannot possibly accept this!” My voice squeaked in outright panic as I shoved the phone screen back toward him.
Arthur cast a casual glance at the screen before leisurely sliding my phone back toward me. “Whether you keep it is entirely up to you. My part was simply sending it.”
“But this is far too much…”
Just as Arthur was about to reply, his phone began to vibrate. Glancing down at the screen, his brow furrowed slightly. “Excuse me, this is the crew calling. I need to take this.”
He stood up and stepped outside the room, shutting the door behind him. Left entirely alone on the plush sofa, I stared blankly at the endless string of zeros on my screen, stunned that he had actually sent 1 million dollars.
Suddenly, a sharp spasm twisted through my abdomen. A muffled groan escaped my lips as I doubled over, my trembling fingers scrambling through my purse for my pill bottle. Twisting the cap off, I spilled two pills into my hand and forced them down with a gulp of orange juice. The pills lodged awkwardly in my throat, sending a wave of bitter taste up my mouth. I sank back against the cushions, waiting for the agony to pass.
Another text popped up on my screen. It was from Arthur. “Can I come find you again once my schedule clears up? Would that be alright?”
I shoved my phone into my bag, forced myself to stand, and went to pay the bill. But the cashier told me Arthur had already paid. Stepping outside into the fresh air, a wave of nausea surged through my stomach. I crouched by the curb, dry-heaving painfully. A few passersby gave me concerned glances. Wiping the corners of my mouth, I pushed myself up and walked toward the subway station.
My phone vibrated once more with another message from Arthur. “Let me know when you get home safely.”
I typed out “I’m back,” but quickly erased it. In the end, I sent only one word. “Okay.”
Sleep evaded me that night. Giving up entirely, I sat up, flipped open my laptop, and logged into my web novel account. Over a dozen direct messages flooded my inbox, the most recent one coming from a faithful follower of five years who went by the username “Moonquake.”
“Oh goodness, is this story coming to an end soon? Is it going to be a sad ending? Why must it end badly!”
Forcing a faint, bitter smile, I typed a response. “The gap between them is simply too vast. They are not meant to be.”
A reply came back almost instantaneously. “But both of them are working so hard to bridge that distance and become better people together! Besides, in their hearts, aren’t they each other’s favorite person?”
I lingered over those words for a long time before replying. “Well, there’s still more to the story. I can’t spoil it for you yet!”
Moonquake sent over a smiling emoji. “Please don’t be so heartless! Is there really no chance for a happy ending? By the way, I’m visiting a church soon. Would it be okay if I sent you a little surprise afterward?”
My fingers froze over the keyboard at the mention of a church. Near the studio lot on the outskirts of San Francisco where Arthur was currently filming, there was indeed an old church that was famously known for granting wishes.
Clicking open Moonquake’s profile page, I noticed the account creation date was exactly five years ago, coinciding precisely with the year Arthur made his official showbiz debut.
I stared blankly at the screen for a lingering moment before closing out the profile page and resuming my typing.
Once finished, I read through the draft, only to delete the entire text and start over. I tossed and wrestled with my writing like this until dawn broke. In the end, I left behind not a single word.
