![Free-eBooks.net](/resources/img/logo-nfe.png)
![All New Design](/resources/img/allnew.png)
Chapter 14
I slept a dreamless sleep in the cheapest hostel room I managed to find in Amsterdam. I was too exhausted to be scared or to realize that I hadn’t eaten for over 12 hours, all I knew was that I needed to collapse on a bed.
But now it’s all coming back to me: the man on the plane, the note. And I am hungry, so hungry my head spins when I stand. I slip back into my jeans and feel my pockets. The note is still there. Something tells me it would be safer to destroy it than to keep it, but I can’t get myself to tear it apart because I wonder if it contains hints, leads that would be forever lost if I did.
I tuck the note into my luggage anyways and head out, heavily leaning onto the handrail as I teeter down the stairs. The girl at the front-desk sees me and smiles casually, casting an appearance of normality to the oddness of the scene. I stare back at her blankly for few instants before pulling together some sort of crooked smile.
There’s a mirthful café right across the street, with flowers on the windows and on the tables outside, and that’s where I stop. I am in dire need for food, but in my current state of mind the colored flowers are almost as important as filling up my stomach. I have to keep the morale high, I can’t afford letting slip even for an instant without running the risk of breaking down completely.
I order a cappuccino and pastry with sophisticated names I can hardly pronounce. Sitting outside in the warm air filled with the smells of food and flowers, surrounded by the laughers and voices of people, one bite of almond pastry after the next I feel the hope flicker within me. I look at the street and smile, imagining the day I will sit here just like everyone else would, at peace with myself. Will this be possible, ever?
I don’t know, but I will try. I will be fine, one way or the other.
“Hey, I can’t believe we’re meeting here!”, I hear behind my back
I feel a pinch of irritation, sudden and acute, and when I turn around it must show on my face.
“Did I startle you?”, asks the blond who seems so enthusiastic about meeting me
I have a vague recollection of her face, but I cannot really place it anywhere. When people don’t strike me in any particular way I blank them out within minutes. This must show on my face too, because the blond tells me, “You remember me from school, don’t you?”
Yes, now I do. We took courses together, me and this blond whose name I’ve forgotten, and she has always been like that with me, always so eager to interact. How comes she’s here?
“Sure I do”, I say, doing my best to be civil
“Can I join you?”, she asks, and starts pulling up a chair for herself before I get the chance to reply
She talks for a while, about places to see and about her plans here in Amsterdam and about school. A bunch of words I don’t really listen to, but to which I nod every now and then while wondering how I can get rid of the woman.
“You know I forgot your name, though?”, she says at a point, and so I tell her
“Mine is Melissa…just in case”, she says and winks
I smile and nod. When is she going to leave?
“What are you up to today?”, she asks, and then, without pausing, “A friend of mine has been here before and she told me about this place, the drinks they make and their beer are awesome. I think we must try it out”
“Well…”, I start
“Do you have plans already?”, she interrupts
“Sort of”, I say
“The place is not far from here, you know”, she insists and starts describing all the wonderful things she’s been told about it. After chatting away for a while she tells me the name of the pub.
And the pub is the one I should go to, the one from where Veronica called.
“’The black Lion, you said?”, I ask
“Yes! Do you know about it?”, she wants to know, her excitement bubbling out, unstoppable
“Never heard about it, I just find the name curious”, I say
“Are you in then?”, Melissa insists
If I go there with someone like Melissa my reasons for being there are going to be less obvious, she’ll be a good element of distraction because she just doesn’t seem to know how to shut up. Finding this chatter-box here in Amsterdam might have not been bad luck after all. I’ll have to get rid of her at some point, but I’ll deal with that later.
“Ok”, I tell her, shrugging