CHAPTER TWO

"I'm sorry, my child." The old man pulled her for a hug, and she completely melted in his warmth. "It will be fine, you'll see." He patted her back softly, allowing her sobs to pass.

"I'm only here so that I can finally let go of all the anger, and start afresh," Claire said as they pulled apart, sniffling. "I want to be free. I'll let go of all the hatred so that I can live my life without resentment."

"I understand, and that's very wise." He smiled proudly. "So, does this mean you're ready to take what he's left you?"

Claire blinked, but immediately recalled the meaning.

"I think so. It's what he wanted for me, right? I'll accept it now." She forced a smile despite finding it weird.

"Very well, that means you're a grown up now," her grandfather remarked, making them both laugh.

"I'll have to visit him. I'd like to do it right away," said Claire. "I believe a lot will change from today. I can feel it." She smiled optimistically, and the old man had nothing else to say, other feeling happy for her.

It was two in the afternoon, when Claire arrived at the cemetery. Nothing had changed, she thought. It had been four years since her father died, and that was her first visit since the burial. It felt terrible, but she had to do it.

Sighing heavily at the sight of several graves, scribbled with the names, dates, and lovely titles of someone's loved ones, Claire went straight to that of her father. It was in a great condition, green grass adorning it.

Swallowing hard, Claire placed a large bouquet of flowers on top of it, taking her sunglasses off. She slowly squatted down and ran a hand on the engraved words on the silver plate on the ground, her dad's name beaming.

"Hi, Dad," she uttered, smiling faintly. "It's me . . . your Claire." She pressed her lips together, fighting the tears.

She really wished that the dead could hear. She hoped her father could hear.

"It took me so long, huh? I know, I had no courage to face you. I just couldn't stand the sight of you anymore. You weren't the same dad I knew before; not that friendly one who loved me."

She broke into uncontrollable tears, sitting down on the soft grass.

"I'm going to be an interior designer, just as I wanted," she proceeded. "But you are not going to see it. You didn't even see me wearing the graduation gown. As always, you didn't show up. You're so cruel, Mr. Levy."

Claire knew it was pointless blaming the dead, but she needed to vent anyway. She just blurted all that she'd kept inside. Minutes passed, and she felt better somehow.

It was time to say goodbye.

With a deep sigh, Claire decided it was enough, hence made her way out. Fine or not, she felt like something was off her throat, and that made her feel better. Oblivious of anything and anyone, she suddenly realized that she had an audience.

What the hell? She screamed inside.

"Are you feeling better now?" a male voice asked.

Claire swerved around. "Are you talking to me?" she asked the owner of the voice, frowning.

"Yes, you," he replied, and she looked at him, puzzled.

"I'm not sure if I'm supposed to receive that from a stranger, but thanks for your concern anyway," Claire replied casually, and turned to where she was heading.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you, I should've introduced myself first, maybe?" he remarked, his manners gallant. "Hi, I'm Bruno." His bashful smile would have driven any woman crazy; but not Claire.

All she wanted was to get out of this place that could never be a meeting place, and definitely a place to exchange pleasantries from a stranger. For heaven's sake, he could even be a ghost! She thought.

She paced a few steps towards him, nonchalantly, and stopped. "Are you a journalist, by any chance?" she queried. "Because I don't have any scoop for you, in case that's your issue."

He better be a journalist and not a ghost, she kept thinking.

Bruno bursted out laughing, vividly amused. "A journalist? No, I just saw you in there and I felt concerned, that's why I couldn't ignore you."

"Oh, really now? How sweet of you, huh?" Claire retorted. "Well, you should stay

here and do the charity job then, don't you think? Thank you for your concern, Bruno, but I'm fine."

"Ouch," he muttered, holding his heart as though highly wounded. "I'm sorry if I was rude, but you honestly looked devastated there. But well, I can see you are full of energy now, so I'll take my leave."

Eyeing him leaving, Claire felt somewhat guilty for lashing out without any grand reason.

"Wait," she urged.

"Yes?" Bruno quipped.

"I'm sorry. I'm not having a good day to be honest," she confessed.

"Apology accepted." Bruno beamed kindly. "And I'm sorry, I can tell you're having it bad."

"Well, thanks." She sighed, and they slowly continued to walk.

"I think I said my name, but I haven't heard yours yet," said Bruno while staring at her with a mischievous gleam.

"Claire," she told him softly.

"Oh. Such a pretty name." His voice was teasing with warmth.

"Um . . . thanks." Claire had no reason to stay sullen; her face brightened with an indulgent smile.

"So, are you new around here? I've never seen you before," Bruno proceeded.

"Oh, aren't you a know-it-all? How can you tell if I'm new or not?" she replied accusingly, and he laughed heartily. They were already outside the cemetery.

"Well, you can say that out loud," he bragged. "I know almost everyone around here, but this is the first charming face to meet the eyes."

"So that's how you get into them ladies, huh?"

"You're beautiful and funny," Bruno uttered, laughing. "Would you mind having a cup of coffee?" he flatly proposed.

"You're not flirting with me, are you?" Claire asked, and laughter escaped Bruno. "Well, I'm just warning you, because I'm not easy to handle."

"I really had no plans to, but I guess I've changed my mind a second ago," Bruno replied, and she gasped incredulously. "I'm just kidding, Claire. I'm only inviting you for a coffee, nothing more."

"Cool, let's have coffee," she relented with a little smile.