Morrie left at half-past eight the next morning, taking Tony with him. He leaves for his parents' house during the weekends, and would come back with groceries for the dogs and the two of us. I tried to refuse him at first, but Morrie was so persistent on sharing with me the supplies he got from his parents. This was because, unbeknownst to his family, Morrie was avoiding red meat, and would only consider eating meat if it was poultry or seafood. It did not surprise me at all, seeing Morrie's preference for tie-dyed shirts, ripped jeans and sandals. He has been growing his hair for a year when I met him, and it falls to his waist now. Looking at him would give anyone the impression that Morrie anticipates the Woodstock Festival.
Morrie's parents would give him a call at least once a day, which does not seem to annoy him like any other grown son would. It seems that he shared a healthy and loving relationship with his family. Oftentimes, it made me wonder how things would be if I grew up with my parents. For some reason, however, my usually vivid imagination would not even conceive such a picture. Maybe this was because I have refrained from thinking of my parents ever since I was a child. I had convinced myself that I was an orphan and was content with that notion until I saw the surname Graham-Lecter attached to my name for the first time.
"I'm taking Tony for grooming." Morrie had said before he left. He was already standing by the door, cradling the Shih Tzu in his arms the time he said so. "Speaking of grooming, Abiel," he began, and I thought he mentioned Tony's grooming just so he can say what he was about to say. "You should shave your beard."
I smirked. "Don't try to be my mother, Morrie, I do not even have one."
"Well, I have two." He said with what looked like a pout. It was the first time he spoke of his parents, but then again, our conversations often occur only when we were under the influence of alcohol. "If they see you, they'll probably tell you that. It used to suit your long curls, but not now that you have cut them short."
I gave him a deadpan look. "I'm seriously hearing this from you now?"
Morrie shrugged. "Just suggesting." He replied. "I better get going before we start a row."
"Yeah, run on, guru." I replied and sipped my coffee.
"See you on Monday." He said before slamming the door shut.
Having been left alone with my dogs, my mind began to drift back to my encounter with Hannibal Lecter. If Dawn's barking did not pull me out of my thoughts, I would not have noticed that I was gritting my teeth intensely, the knuckles wrapped around my knife have grown white as if the bones were about to break out of my skin, and the knife itself has dug four centimeters deep into the surface of the wooden table. I drew a deep breath and calmed myself before standing up to clear the table. Though Morrie's suggestion had somehow irked me, I shaved my beard that same morning.
It was about a quarter past nine when I took my dogs for a walk. I held Dawn's and Merry's leashes in my left hand, and Tristan's in my right. The weather was fine that day, the sun was bright but not too hot and a light breeze was constantly blowing. It was perfect to get my mind off of yesterday's events.
As I was walking them thus, a man who has been walking beside me seemed to take an interest in the dogs.
"Hi there," the man greeted, "Are they all yours?" He asked.
"Yes." I replied curtly. I was not able to look at him as I said so because Tristan began growling at a cat and I had to pull him away.
The man chuckled. "Seems like a handful."
"Quite literally," I said. This time, Merry and Dawn began sniffing at the wheel of a parked car.
"Are you taking them to the park?" The man asked.
"Yes." I replied, but it was more like an exhalation. The man was starting to annoy me as my dogs kept finding things to distract them.
"I'm going there too. I can lend you a hand." He said.
"You sure?" I asked, half prepared to hand him Merry's leash. I did not really mind if he meant to abduct one of my dogs because, though I did not get a proper look at him, I reckoned the man had to be in his late forties to early fifties and that chasing him with a German Shepherd and a Rottweiler would not be difficult.
"Yeah," he said, reaching out with an open palm.
I handed him Merry's leash, and the dog was too busy admiring tree trunks to care.
The man chuckled as he watched Merry prance about. "He's a giddy one, huh," He said. "What's his name?"
"Merry," I replied.
"That's a fitting name." He noted.
I chuckled and we walked on.
We reached the park soon enough, and the man, whose breathing was getting heavy, suggested we find a bench to rest on. "My dogs are not as young as this one." He said. "And I'm not getting any younger myself."
We found a bench and it was only then that we saw each other face to face. We studied each other for a few seconds before I dropped onto the bench, sitting with my eyes staring blankly ahead.
He sat beside me and sighed. "So," he began, "you must be Abiel."
My lips have gone dry, and I licked them before I replied. "And you must be my father." Coldness began to creep unto me again. The park has vanished, the clamor has quieted, the dogs have stopped barking, and in my mind, the world has left me sitting on that bench with Will Graham.
Author's Note:
Apologies for the delayed update.
Yesterday was the day I realized I should not get too comfortable in Abiel's shoes because, after all, we are of the same size. In other words, I needed to take a break from assuming this guy's point of view. It makes me wish I did Morrie's side instead. Dude's more fun, but then again, things are not what they seem.
I hope I'm not creeping you out of reviewing or following this story!