Roses & Bullets

XI. Questions

ERIK

So, I chose just to stay in my room and unpack my things. I guess I'm too tired to roam around the area after traveling. My flight didn't take too long, but still.

Once I'm done, I lie back in bed and check the photos on my phone. Most of the pictures are of my parents', and as I look at them, melancholy suddenly descends over me. They both look so happy in every shot that it makes me feel guilty I left.

But I shouldn't feel any guilt. I don't know how many times I have to remind myself that this is not about them. I continue browsing through the photos and push my sad thoughts aside.

At around seven in the evening, I hear the sound of a bell coming from downstairs. I figure that means dinner is now being served. I am famished, but I don't want to be around other people right now.

I ignore the sound of the bell and decide to go out later to find a place to order some takeout. After a few minutes, someone is once again knocking at my door. I'm not sure why, but my heart suddenly beats a little faster, thinking that it might be Claire.

When I open the door, a good-looking boy who looks exactly like Claire stands in front of me. They could be twins, for all I know. The only difference is the color of their eyes and hair.

"Are you coming down for dinner?" he asks, his head c****d to one side.

"I'm sorry?" I'm so amazed by the similarities he and Claire share that I barely heard what he said.

"My father wants to know if you're joining us for dinner," he replies, speaking up. "The other guests are already downstairs, and we're only waiting for you, Mr. Daniels."

"Please, call me Erik," I tell him. "And no, I won't be joining you."

"Suit yourself." He shrugs his shoulders and starts to leave.

"Did you say all the other guests are downstairs?"

"Yes," he says, looking back at me. "Claire prepares all the meals here, and they love her cooking."

"What's for dinner, then?"

"See for yourself." With that, he leaves without giving me another glance.

I close the door and immediately look for a plain shirt. After finding a white one, I take a quick look at myself in the bathroom mirror. Do I have to do this?

I don't know why I'm overthinking or why I'm having seconds thoughts. What's so f*****g hard about having dinner with others? Surely, it won't be that bad.

I put on my shoes and take one deep breath before going out. As I walk along the corridor, I feel like passing out that I almost ran back to my room. When I finally reach the top of the stairs, I hear Claire speaking.

"What did he say?" she asks someone, probably the boy who invited me to dinner.

"He's not coming, I think."

"I hope you didn't force him or anything," she worriedly tells him.

"I didn't, Claire. Relax."

"What is he going to eat then?" An old man asks, and I assume that it's their father.

"I'm not sure, dad," replies the boy. "I didn't ask."

"Well, if that's the case, then we better continue eating," their father announces. "We wouldn't want the food to get cold."

The sound of silverware on the plates is like music to my ears. I suddenly remember how hungry I am, especially because I can also smell the food. I start descending down the stairs, and five pairs of eyes turn to look at me as soon as I step into the kitchen.

"Ah, good evening, Mr. Daniels." The old man stands up and shakes my hand before guiding me to the vacant seat beside Claire. "I'm Frank Wilson, the owner of this hostel."

"Nice to meet you, sir."

"Please," he chuckles, "just call me Frank."

We shake hands, and I have to say that his grip is pretty firm for someone his age. I take the seat beside Claire, who seems determined to ignore my presence. Out of courtesy, I greet the other people at the table.

"This is my son, Corey," Frank tells me, pointing to the boy beside him. "These are our guests, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, and this is Claire, my eldest. I believe you two have already met."

"Yes."

"Claire, honey, please give Mr. Daniels his steak and some mashed potatoes." Frank then proceeds to eat his dinner and talk to the other guests.

"Yes, daddy."

Claire serves me my dinner, and I'm actually glad that I decided to join them. While the others are busy chatting with each other, Claire remains quiet, leaving me with no one to talk to. Well, this is awkward.

"So, what do you do, Mr. Daniels?" asks Frank as he helps himself with some gravy. Corey looks at me curiously, as well as the other two guests. Claire, however, continues to eat in silence.

"Erik would be fine, sir."

"Erik," he repeats.

"I was a Navy SEAL, sir."

"Oorah!" exclaims Corey, smiling.

"I believe that is for the Marines, son," Frank tells him.

"Sorry," Corey says, scratching his head. "How long did you serve? And where?"

Claire suddenly clears her throat and speaks, "Corey, that's a little personal, don't you think?"

Corey looks at their father, who shakes his head a little. Taking that as a sign that Claire is right, he apologizes before excusing himself from the table. The other two guests, Koreans, I think, also do the same.

"Please forgive my son," Frank says to me as soon as Corey is gone. "He's a tactless person, you see. That usually gets him in trouble."

"That's all right, sir. I don't mind."

"That's nice of you, Erik. Now, I'm afraid I'll have to leave you guys, too. I still need to take my medication before going to bed."

"I'll take you to your room, daddy," Claire offers, but her father refuses.

"There's no need for that, Claire," Frank replies, smiling. "Just stay here with Erik and keep him entertained. Have a good night, Erik."

"Good night, sir."

Frank leaves the kitchen, and silence immediately envelopes us. Claire takes the remaining plates from the table and puts them in the sink. I, on the other hand, start to eat my almost untouched steak.

This is really good. Corey wasn't joking when he said that everyone loves Claire's cooking. Maybe I should eat with them all the time.

Claire goes back to the table and sits in front of me.

"How's the food, Mr. Daniels?" Claire asks, not sounding really interested.

"Just call me Erik, Claire. And I would like to apologize for my behavior earlier. I'm sorry."

Claire only looks at me as if she didn't hear what I just said. We lock eyes for a few seconds before she finally looks away.

"That's okay, Erik."

"Why don't you go to bed?" I ask her.

"I'm still waiting for your plate," she answers.

"Oh."

"I mean, I need to clean up the kitchen first." She sounds embarrassed, and then she starts chewing on her bottom lip.

"I can do that for you," I tell her, not wanting to impose.

"No, you can't. You're a guest here, and that's my job."

"Oh, okay." I don't know what else to say. Claire takes out her phone and starts reading something, to which I'm grateful for because I suck at making small talk. I just want to eat in peace!

"I'll just wait for you to finish," Claire says without looking at me.

This is gonna be a long f*****g night.