The Other Side

(short story. comments welcome.)
(Credits: I just attempted to paint another side of Nutty's post. Read hers first.)

I don't know why my parents named me Keith. I never liked that name. Imagine schoolmates having fun at my expense, 'Keith Keith, Funky Teeth'. OK - I got some funny looking teeth in front, but so what?

But I do not plan to talk about myself. It's about this lovely lady who lives in the apartment complex across the street from my bank. I first noticed her walking to work from the window next to my seat. I always wanted that window seat, and that day I realized why. I could just watch her in morning walking brisk, looking at her wrist watch every few seconds. My boss never knew why I started showing up early in the morning despite my Kirsch hangovers. She was the reason.

One day, I saw her walking in to our bank. Was she our customer? I didn't know THAT. It turned out she wasn't. She had come to see one of my colleagues - Marc. I saw Marc and her having a quick chatter, which seemed to turn into an argument. I couldn't listen much through the glass, but both of them looked annoyed towards the end. She did not have a good expression on her face when she left. Neither did Marc.

I finally dared and asked Marc over lunch, "Who was that woman that came to see you today?" He stopped eating, and stared at me. Then after a few seconds, he suddenly blurted, "Oh her? She is a good friend." I sighed in relief. I dreaded hearing something like "She's my girlfriend" or "fiancée". But Good Lord - she was just a friend. Marc is known to be an honest and open person, so I trusted him at that. I didn't ask anything about their argument. Instead, I opened my position, "She is very pretty." He stopped eating again, stared at me for a while, and then smiled. "She is very nice too. You like her?", he put the question forward. I was not expecting that. "Umm... yeah. I want to know more about her.", I somehow managed to articulate that. He drew me closer and whispered, "Why don't you go ahead and talk to her? I know she hurt her foot today, so very sure she is not going to work for a few days. Why don't you send her some flowers?"

OK, I am not the kind of guy who would send a bunch of blossoms to a woman I never talked to. I can be very open and confident, well... sometimes, but this is way out of my methods. But I find myself nodding in affirmation.

After a full day of 'tutoring' by Marc, I had it all planned out. Send flowers. Present myself. Talk to her. Help her out. Be nice. Get to know her better. Marc warned me not to tell her about my conversations with him. I was supposed to refer to the 'cleaning lady' for any source of information I got.

Marc even knew what flowers she liked. He was the one who ordered and paid for them. I marveled at the details he knew about his friend. We saw the delivery boy go into the apartment building. I was ready to go. Marc tapped on my shoulder and whispered, "I have also ordered some donuts from the bakery she stops for coffee on her way to work. She loves them. And remember, she doesn't like it if you eat them before she does." How thoughtful of him! I never understood why a man would do all this for another, but this guy was wonderful. He was actually helping me out to get along with his friend. Such nice guys don't exist anymore.

The delivery boy was done. My heart was pounding loudly. I knocked. There she was. So beautiful, with her hair falling on her face, and a zing of sleepiness in her eyes. Her foot really hurt it seemed, because she was about to fall when I caught her inches from the floor. I can't explain what went through my heart and body at that time. The woman I had been watching for so long, was in my arms.

The rest, it all went as planned. I made coffee for her, and she liked it. The only unexpected part was the knock on the door, which turned out to be a delivery-boy with donuts. For some reason, he seemed like the same delivery boy wearing a different shirt. Was I going crazy with suspicion at that moment of time? I shrugged any such thoughts, and handled the situation at hand. She apparently wasn't expecting something like donuts for her breakfast, but she liked them. I think she had started liking my presence, except for an instant where she suddenly asked me to leave. I knew how to handle that situation; Marc had taught me well. I brought her phone's receiver and told her she could call the cops if she wished, and I would actually leave before it is even needed. I was there to help her. She understood. I could see the trust in her eyes.

After taking her pain killers, she was almost falling asleep. I think my coffee didn't work. I was massaging her foot. It was a lovely time - I would have lost myself in the beauty of the moment had I not heard another knock on the door.

Another knock. I hated to get up, and check who it was.
Marc. With two other men I had never seen before.

Marc hurried into the room. He looked at her and smiled. I couldn't understand what that smile meant. I had never seen Marc with that smile ... it looked vicious. He didn't pause for long though. He instructed the two men who had barged in along with him, "Go look for the photographs. I'll take care of her." Now, that alarmed me. What was going on? Marc clearly didn't seem to have good intentions here. Then something hit me from behind. I didn't know what, but I dropped on the floor.

Next, I find myself looking at the open sky. I am on a terrace - probably the same apartment complex. My arms and legs have been tied - I can't move. Trying to shuffle around, my right arm hurts. There's a used injection and syringe lying on a side. It seems they injected something - I can't figure out what.

I don't know what happened at her apartment after that. I hope she's still OK. The sky is getting blurry again, and my head is getting heavier. Is it what they injected? I don't know... I hope she's still OK.....