Lunch happened after the reunion. Boss invited us and paid for the food as I had no money with me and he also wanted to impress Zebby with some chivalry. Whether that in itself can be considered chivalry is beyond me though. I just didn't know what else to call it.
As for Vincent... I'm not sure why he's still here.
"Don't you have like some buddies to go home to? Have lunch with or something?" I asked Vincent. He was tearing off a piece of chicken like it was the luxury of a lifetime. He's famished just as I was. I don't think he had anything for breakfast.
Munching on the chicken, Vincent shook her head.
That in itself was suspicious. But I didn't press. I needed to remind myself that I wasn't supposed to care. 
By the time we were done, everyone decided that they would help me pack up.
"But how about your shops?" I asked both of them.
Zebby only shrugged, and I immediately understood why she was not the least bit bothered about it. So I turned to Boss, and he sighed.
"I'll be going then," he said.
When he was gone, I couldn't help but ask Zebby about something that I believe is to be of dire importance for her situation. "Did you tell Boss about how the shop has been doing?"
Zebby looked taken aback, which I was surprised that she is. Am I the only one who thinks that Boss should have a say in this? Probably. Sometimes I forget that the people I know aren't necessarily and automatically close to each other as the illusion of my circle tries to make it seem.
"I don't think it should matter," was her hesitant reply. Her tone gave me the idea that she was currently thinking about how mad I must have been to even suggest the notion.
If only Zebby knew the lengths of where Boss would go for her. I mean, I don't exactly know, but I can guess.
"Why wouldn't it? He's a friend, isn't he?" I said.
"Well, yeah." Zebby tucked a stray strand of her highlighted behind her ears, then blushed.
"Wait, are you hiding something from me?" I asked. Her face was flushed, her hands flustered in a tremble as a stray shy smile showed unto her face.
Boss did not!
"No." Zebby's high-pitched voice and violent shaking head didn't convince me, and so I raised an eyebrow.
"You are, aren't you? Did Boss finally do what I think he did? Was it yesterday? Did he ask you out at the festival? Am I right to assume that it was a date?"
"Stop. Stop with the questions!" Zebby said though it was practically through a suppressed giggle. But then her face went serious and I was certain that it didn't look like it was good news.
"Did you say no?" My question went to put words into her mouth.
"I didn't say anything. Not a yes, or a no," she finally answered with an exasperated sigh. "I don't really know him, don't I? We've only just recently hung out. And I only told him that I had other things in mind. You know just how much those are much more important than my love life. I don't have time for that."
"I clearly remember you saying the exact same thing when you were my age. I was a kid, but I tend to believe I have a sharp memory and remember things so well. So, that wouldn't be me just making things up," I harrumphed, my pouting showing the evident sign of displeased. "When will you have the time? Come on. Boss is sweet! It'll be a great pairing, trust me!"
Zebby laughed. I pouted even more.
"Probably, never? Until I fix what I have to fix, there's no time for anything Rebecca." We reached the stairs. She was trying to distract me and herself out of the reverie that was the prospect of having Boss by her side. "And I know how sweet George is. I'm just not sure how long it'll last."
My mouth opened, but I didn't speak. I didn't know what to say about that. The future was unknown, and the possibilities endless. One could have that chance of ending up like how I ended up. How my family ended up. So I clamped my lips shut.
We went inside the apartment, the conversation left hanging in the air, dispersed in this cloud of 'what ifs' and the underlying fear of the unknown.
Then, there was me, caught in my own problems once again.
I stacked my folded clothes inside a brown box, labeling them using a black marker. I bit the cap off and started labeling the rest of the boxes, my feet resting over the side so that they wouldn't ache as I sat down on the floor.
"Where should I put this?" Vince asked.
I glanced up, the cap still between my gritting teeth. He was holding a small notebook, worn and tattered. A flash of familiarity went through me, making me act before I could think. I had the urge to snatch it out of his hands before he could open it, forgetting that I was still injured and in pain.
Too late, I already stood up, losing my balance and tripping over the empty boxes and the torn-up cardboards. I exclaimed a yelp of pain tearing through the thin walls of my apartment and bringing Zebby's hurried frame towards mine.
I squinted my eyes in pain.
"Are you okay?" Vincent asked. He knelt close enough for me to be sure I could reach him.
Without explanation, I finally snatched the notebook from Vincent's grasp. He look startled, confused as to why the worn-out thing could force me to endure a fall. But he didn't ask. He helped me sit up as I clutched the notebook close to my chest and a heaving of breaths erupted out of my tightened lungs.
Nobody talked for a minute, which was awkwardness at its finest. Zebby couldn't talk because she didn't know what happened. Vince couldn't talk because he was just as confused as Zebby was even as he saw the whole thing unfold. I guess that seeing that made him even more confused.
I couldn't explain it to them either. There was still this barrier between me and my past when it comes to people who I knew and who thought they knew me. It leaves them disappointed and mistaken and so I try not to open any locked doors.
Maybe they would understand if I try. But I couldn't. Especially not like this.
That's when Zebby snapped her fingers, jolting me in shock like I was zapped and electrified. I looked at her. She looked giddy with excitement I can't place.
"What's wrong?" I asked, anxious about unexpected surprises which I am dreading this to be.
"I finally remembered what the Doctor said to me. I couldn't recall when I got here because I had a massive headache from all the crying and bawling that—well, you don't need to know about it! But, yeah! I finally remembered!" She exclaimed.
"You were crying," Vincent asked.
"Right! Rigel told the Doctor something," Zebby answered, which was all towards the wrong question that I hadn't asked.
"What did he tell her? Rigel to the Doctor I mean?"
"Well... I can't exactly remember," she admitted. I grunted. "But! It definitely had something to do with that notebook. I don't know why, but it was all the Doctor was talking about and she was as confused as we are right now."
It made sense to me in some way they wouldn't have known. I told Rigel about the existence of the notebook, about what it was and how it was here. His name was technically written and came from here, or at least the name that I call him by. But what I want to know is why would this be significant to the situation.
I frantically opened the pages, searching for some kind of clue. I immediately looked for his name, searching for that star symbol that would lead me to it.
The names were strung haphazardly without much of a pattern. I scanned through Melissa, Ricky, Richard, Taylor, and Midge. I ran across simple ones like Michaela, Jane, George, and John. The panic inside me as my hands trembled and almost tore the delicate paper made it three times harder than how easy the task should be. I just have to look for his name. It's that easy. Why couldn't I find it?
"It's here, I know it is," I cried.
"Let me," said Vincent. He said it like he knew what he was supposed to do. Like he can understand what I feel and what I'm searching for. I shook my head because I know that was not possible. Only I knew what I want.
I was stubborn, not letting him touch a single corner. But I eventually gave in. Vincent was persistent just as much. He wouldn't back down knowing I'm not really helping my case. Zebby only stared at us, bewildered and unsure.
Vincent flipped through the pages. His hands were calm and collected. Nothing like mine which was still shaking, tucked within the comfort of my chest, warm and throbbing.
After a moment, he handed the notebook to me. It was opened on a page that has no star.
"This isn't what I'm looking for," I said.
"Just read it," he said. His face gave way nothing.
I looked back and examined the paper. It wasn't anything unusual. Georgina, the name on the left side said, followed by Cerulean. Then, there was no more. It was the end of the collection.
I looked again, sure that I was missing something.
A few bits of paper were stuck on the spring that held the pieces of paper together in a book. It hangs sticking there, taunting me and saying hi.
I flipped to the next page. I ran my eyes through the scribbles that were so unfamiliar, so foreign, and different. The lines were too crooked. The squiggles too uneven. It sticks out like a sore thumb from the graceful cursive words that ran the previous pages.
But I have no idea why I was crying as I saw it. I had no idea why these alien-like scribbles felt so at home written in here as if they belonged in this treasure—my treasure.
"What's wrong?" Zebby asked. She placed her hand on my trembling shoulder. "What does it say?"
I continued reading. I read some more, then repeated by scanning the same words. I did not and could not trust what my tearing eyes could see through the blurry vision.
This can't be. All this time, it was so near all along.
"What's wrong?" Zebby asked again.
While he, he was just there listening. He hasn't said a thing since. I glared at him. He looked like he couldn't care less. Yet for just a second, I could see an apology he couldn't say out loud.
I'm tired. I thought. "I'm tired," I thought again, but said out loud.
"Why don't you rest for a while? Me and Vincent will handle the rest. You should've been resting from the start. You're injured!" She looked at Vince. "Why did we let her do the work when she's injured?"
"She insisted." Again, a calm and collected voice. Why isn't he bothered by this?
"Yes, I did. Didn't I?" I mocked. "I guess I was dumb to do that," I said, talking about a different matter.
"Maybe."
"Why aren't you sure?" I asked.
"It depends."
"On what?" Another question. I had lots.
"On you." He stared at me knowingly. I glared back, rage blazing in me. What's with the smartass answers? Makes me more irritated.
Zebby clapped her hands two times within a beat. Ever the musician.
"Okay, back to work. No more of this... Whatever it is," Zebby looked at me. "Rebecca, just rest here and stay in bed. We'll take care of everything." I nodded as she gathered all the empty boxes beside me as well as those filled with my clothes, dragging all of them out of the room.
Suddenly, there was a thud, followed by a yelp. "A little help here!"
Pulled out of his trance, Vincent clumsily walked with leisure towards the struggling Zebby. He gave me one more look before he and Zebby proceeded out of the bedroom.
I laid down, confused as ever. I'm just so out of it. But I also just want to run away, like for the last time. I know I would have to go back to this problem sooner or later. But for now, all I want is to run away. Let the anxiety gnaw on me till I would remember that I do care and that I am not numb as I currently am or thought to be.
I stared at the small pink notebook in my hand not daring to open it. I know what was inside. Keeping it hidden makes up the illusion that isn't there. That I didn't read what I did and that I'm not caught up in a tangle of a messed up past and possibly a hell of a messed up future as well.
I sighed, wondering where it went wrong. Then sighed again as I realize that it was all wrong before this even started.
Yes, I'm running away again. Yes, it just means that I'm sleeping this out till the next morning. And sleep I did.
Soon... I dreamt. It's all ending soon.