Chapter 2

"So where are you from, Pietro?"

We had been talking for a while, and my drink was mostly untouched. We had talked a lot about me. He didn't let me fit in many questions about him, but at this point he knew a lot about me. Favorite music, TV show, Movie, animal, my job, my hobbies. They were all surface characteristics, but it was still more than knew about Pietro. It started feeling like he was trying to keep me from knowing anything.

He took down the last bit of his drink, actually the last bit of his third drink, before he answered, "Sokovia," He waved to get another drink from the waiter and noted my confused expression, "Near Austria and the Czech Republic,"

I nodded and took a small sip of my drink; I wasn't a big drinker. "So what's your first language?"

He smiled, "I grew up learning speaking Serbian and learning English. So technically Serbian, but I know both equally well. I just have this stupid accent in English, as everyone likes to point out."

I laughed a bit, I was actually enjoying myself, out being social with a guy I just met. I couldn't remember the last time I was this happy, it must have been four years ago. I haven't been able to breath like this in four years. I took another drink.

"I don't think it's that stupid," I joked, which I hadn't been able to do in a while, "Anyway, why did you leave? Both you and your sister must have left if she's the one that's been telling you to get out more."

I could tell I hit a nerve when his smile dropped and he looked down at the bar, "That is privileged information," his hands gripped the edge of the bar and I could see his knuckles turning white. He took a deep break and looked up, trying to gather his playful demeanor back with that same smile he had been flashing at me this whole time, "I can't let you know all my secrets, I just met you."

I felt the need to laugh, like a small joke would diffuse the tension that built with that question, the question that had obviously brought Pietro back to somewhere he never wanted to be again. The laugh only had minimal effect, as we fell into a moment of silence where I rubbed the condensation off my glass with my thumb, and Pietro threw his back so fast there was no time for any liquid to form on the outside.

"What about you?" His voice brought my eyes back to him, "Are you from New York?"

I shook my head sadly, "No, Miami, In florida. I'd rather not talk about that,"

He dropped the subject as fast as he had brought it up, but I felt his eyes comb over me, as if he was waiting for me to burst into tears.

To be honest, I probably could have. Any mention of Miami always nearly made me cry: it held both the best and worst memories of my life. That city brought me an overwhelming mix of emotions.

"So," I tried to bring the conversation to a casual level, rather than emotional, "What do you do?"

He scratched the back of his neck, "Uh, Private security work, you know?"

I nodded, "Anywhere in particular?"
"No, no. Just, anywhere."

His answer was strange and kind of unnerving and it made me realize that I still didn't know much about Pietro. He could have been anyone, he could have done anything. He had been making me so comfortable, but he had avoided most of my questions.

All I really knew was where he was from.

"I should actually probably be going home," I stood up and ran a hand through my dirty, brown hair, "It was nice meeting you, Pietro." But before I could make my way to the door he grabbed my wrist.

"Could I have your phone number?" He asked, looking at me expectantly, "I like talking to you, I would like to do it again."

I shifted on my feet, I didn't really want him to have my phone number, but I gave it to him anyway, holding that small fear in the back of my mind of how he may react if I didn't hand it to him. And with that, he walked happily out the door after giving me a good night.

So I walked home as I did every night, just a bit later.

I gripped the pepper spray I owned a little tighter on the inside of my bag than I normally did that night.

It was really because of the time, since I stayed and talked with Pietro for so long, it was already dark, and I didn't exactly live in a very nice part of town. My pepper spray was actually my first purchase when I started making money, it was a necessity.

I made it home safely, and promptly jumped into the shower. Like always, the water was too cold for comfort and woke my body up when I should have been winding down for bed, but it gave me the energy to wash my work uniform and hang it up for the next morning.

I had started working in a breakfast restaurant on the other side of town a little over a year ago. It was my first job since coming to New York, and I took it the moment I got it.

Of course, it ended up being a ways away from the apartment that I got not too long after, but I just needed whatever I could afford, it didn't really matter how close it was to work. So, I needed to get up early for the 45 minute walk to the restaurant to get ready to open a 6:30, and I stayed all the way until 4 in the afternoon. I did what I had to in order to pay bills. To even get this apartment I had to take loans from some people in the area, the interest was high, but no banks would have taken me. I was homeless at the time. I was still paying off those loans, and it was getting more difficult every day.

But working the next day was the same as every other day, both miserable and enjoyable. I didn't particularly enjoy being a waitress, but the diner got my mind off of things., even if it wasn't very busy. It was one of the few times I was fully distracted from the rest of my life. In fact, working was almost my whole life at this point.

But it only lasted until four, and I was forced to leave. I changed in the bathroom into running clothes and headed over to the track, like always.

I hadn't gotten any texts or calls from Pietro that day, but he did show up halfway through my run.

He stood on the inside of the fence this time, and leaned back into as he waited for me to get closer to him.

He looked the same as yesterday, if anything a little more tired, but still with a bit of a smile on his face.

"Anna-" he called me over when I was close enough.

I decided it would be best to go and talk to him rather than ignore him for the rest of the run, and I doubted he would just leave without talking, so I stopped and walked towards him.

"My sister was happy that I went and talked to someone," He said, "But she said I was too persistent and might have scared you. I wanted to apologize, I didn't intend to do that,"

I nodded with a small thankyou. I was worried yesterday, he was a bit too pushy.

"But I would like to talk to you again, I will text you so you have my number, " he put his hand on my arm, almost in a comforting way, "I'm always here if you need me, Anna."

And with that he said good bye, returning to his walk.

I was surprised, he had been really persistent the day before. His sister must have really dug into him if he was willing to apologize and leave without talking.

I wanted to meet her.

But Pietro had walked far enough away the I could hardly see his silver hair in the distance, so I just returned to my run and continued my day like any other.

After texting me just so I had his number, Pietro didn't reach out again.

He did walk by every day at the same time I was doing my run, but just sent over a wave and a smile without stopping to talk, and continued his walk. I started thinking about him more, wondering if he had lost all interest in me, or if his sister had just told him to keep his distance.

But after about a week of little connection, I arrived at the track and didn't walk through the gate.

Still wearing my work clothes, a white button up and black skirt, I waited on the outside of the fence for Pietro to come by on his daily walk.

It took him a little longer than usual, but he did come by, wearing a dark jacket to contrast his hair, and as always a smile on his face.

"Anna- you're not running?"

I looked down and pushed myself off of the fence, "No, I was waiting for you. I thought we could maybe, I don't know what I thought actually." I wrung my hands. I actually didn't come up with a plan, even with all of that time of waiting.

"Talk?" He offered.

I nodded, "Yeah, talking works,"

He looked down and kicked a rock with his shoe, "I have no money on me right now, and my sister is, uh, having people over so I can invite you over."

"That's okay, my apartment works," I started leading him in the direction of my apartment.

Being honest, I was nervous to show him where I stayed. It wasn't nice, and it wasn't in a nice area, I just didn't want to be judged for that.

But to take my mind off of it, I decided to ask him about the sister he always mentioned, "So, you live with your sister? You guys close?"

He nodded, "Yes, we live with a few other, uh, roommates. Her name is Wanda, and she's all I have left."

"Your parents stayed in Sokovia?" I asked.

He coughed uncomfortably as we walked up the stairs to my building, "They actually died."
I froze while putting my key in the lock and looked up at him, "I'm so sorry, Pietro. I didn't realize."

He waited for me to unlock the door and looked up at the sky, "It was a long time ago, Anna," after a pause he asked, "What about you, family?"

I sighed, starting to walk up the stairs to my apartment on the third floor.

"I haven't spoken to them in about four years, honestly. I think my dad died. As far as I know my mom is probably still in Miami, but I'm just too afraid to reach out at this point."

I noticed the shock on his face as I let him in, "You think? You're not sure?"
He walked into my apartment, taking the small area in.

There was a small kitchen directly next to the living space and two doors on the far wall, one for the bedroom and one for the bathroom. Everything was quite dingy, and you would think that I would have actually take the time to tidy up, but I didn't really plan on bringing him over.

"Yeah, I think I saw the obituary in the paper, but I was sitting next to someone on a bus and reading over his shoulder. He left right when I noticed, so I didn't get a good look at the paper," I picked up a few papers and magazines sitting on the coffee table and tossed them into my room and picked up the throw pillows and pushed them into the couch, hoping to make my apartment a little more presentable, "Sorry, It's not much. But, uh, its really all I can afford."

He sat down and I followed. Pietro looked around, soaking in the small space and all of the imperfections, "Its perfectly fine," he admitted, "It looks like the apartment I had with my family back in Sokovia."

I took a seat next to him and we both looked at each other expectantly, it dawned on me that I had no actual plan or no real idea on what to talk to him about. This was just a decision I made on a whim with no actual plan.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" He asked.

"I-uh," I paused and laughed for a moment, "I'm not actually sure, I didn't really think about that. I just, I don't know, haven't really spend any time casually with someone in so long. I don't know what I was really planning."

He nodded and folded his hands into his lap, "How was work?"

I figured that was a good enough place to start, so I told him all about it. About the man that complained that we didn't serve hamburgers, about the old lady who talked to me about standing tall and being confident, about the kids that forgot to leave tips. I told him about everything all the way to how much I didn't like the clothes I had to wear.

But he avoided the questions I had about his job.

I decided to ask more about his sister, Wanda.
He told me about how close they were, being twins and all. About how forceful she could be with him, even though he was a whole twelve minutes older. About how glad she will be that he isn't home yet, and that he couldn't live without her.

"I'd like to meet her sometime," I admitted, "She sounds wonderful,"

"She would like to meet you too," he laughed to himself for a moment, "Just watch out, sometimes it feels like she can read your mind."

It felt like an inside joke but I laughed along anyway, being around him was starting to get easier. He was just a very comfortable person. He put my mind at ease when I was around him.

"So, Anna, why do you run so much? Everytime I walk by you're always running."

It was an innocent enough question, but it forced me to squirm in my spot. Running was such a personal subject, it was how I escaped my past. Both literally and figuratively, it protected me.

"I just, you know, enjoy it. It keeps me active." I lied through my teeth.

He nodded, "I think running is quite fun, but I am quite good at it, so that may be why."

After than we started talking about inane things; the weather and news and politics. Getting stuck in daily conversation that I had been missing for years.

It almost felt intimate.

And it turned to interests, how he had recently discovered American television, how he loved 'Friends', how I wished I could cook, and how I always wanted to keep plants.

Before we were aware, it was late, and I needed to start to get ready to wake up early the next morning for work.

When I walked him to the door, Pietro admitted, "This was nice, we should talk more. I enjoy spending time with you, Anna."

"I enjoyed it too," Pietro reached down for a hug and I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. I could feel his muscles move under my arms as he squeezed me tight. I didn't realize just how built he was before that moment.

"Goodnight,"

And with that he was out of my apartment for the night.

I did truthfully hope that he would want to spend time together again. His presence was so comforting. We could actually be friends, he could be the first friend I've had in years.

With Pietro still on my mind, I got ready for bed, dreading the fact that I would have to work a long day before I had the chance to see him once again.

But the next day came quickly once my head hit the pillow, and with Pietro's talks to look forward to, I just wanted to speed through the day.

And that's how the next week or so went.

I would work all day and Pietro would meet me at the track later. It was an unannounced agreement between us; I would run, and Pietro would talk my ear off.

We can gotten quite comfortable with each other, he even suggested that he would bring his sister by. He said she wanted to meet me.

Things were going well, I was glad to have my new friend.

When I walked into work on saturday morning, the manager and owner of the restaurant was sitting at the breakfast bar, hunched over his Iphone and scrolling through his emails.

Like every morning, I said hello and began taking the chairs off of the tables so we could set up for the saturday morning rush.

But he got up and stopped me.

Mr. Reeds was an older man that I had brought myself to look up to in the past year.

He had started with very little, but his and his wife's dream was to make people happy, and they way they did it was through food. I felt that his achievements could be an example for me, that I didn't have to be stuck in this state of my life forever.

"Ms. Anna, can I speak with you, there's no need to do that just take a seat with me."

I obliged and sat next to him at the bar, curious as to what he had to say. Though I did look up to Mr. Reeds, we hardly spoke.

He took a moment to compose himself, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and taking a deep breath.

"I'm afraid that we're shutting down the restaurant."