Unknown Lover

What would you do?

If you discovered your boyfriend of four months had repeatedly cheated on you, and you weren't his only boyfriend...

If you fought with your father to the point of a physical altercation, and afterwards he treated you like you were invisible...

Would you try to make things better?

Or would you run away, like I'm doing?

..

..

"Mom, Blue doesn't want to be here, I don't want to go home, and I don't want to go to university," I muttered. "Mom, can I skip summer school? Can I stay at James's place?"

"That's putting a lot on James. You can't just stay at his house for months for free. Even if he's your best friend, you need to be considerate," Mom scolded, though not severely. She was a middle-aged woman who still looked good, tall and slender in a smart pantsuit and heels.

"Why don't you study a language? Do you think you can manage living alone?"

"Study a language...?" I hadn't considered that option.

"Yes. America, perhaps? Since you're looking to get away from home, you might as well do something productive. Study a language, experience living alone. You'll gain life experience and improve your skills."

I easily fell for it. Mom also gave me an ultimatum: if I was going to sleep somewhere other than home, it would only be if I was studying a language.

Mom came back with a pile of course options. I didn't know the difference between them, so I just randomly picked one.

"This place is good; it's close to the accommodation Mom found for you,"

Mom showed me pictures of the places. There were several, all in the same neighborhood. I felt bad that she was spending money because of my stubbornness and desire to avoid my dad, who'd been giving me the cold shoulder for months, and escape P'Phim. So I chose the cheapest option.

Even the cheapest one was almost forty thousand baht a month.

I had no idea what the inside looked like. The website only had two pictures: an exterior shot of the building and a few scant details. One available room, pet-friendly, washer/dryer, fireplace, shared kitchen.

Unlike the other accommodations, which had detailed photos from the front façade to the bedrooms and bathrooms.

But Mom said it was in a safe neighborhood, so it shouldn't be a problem.

Besides, she was the one who suggested it.

..

..

House nr 215

I left Thailand without telling anyone except my close friends. Even P'Phim, didn't know. As soon as my final exam for the second semester ended, I immediately got on a plane to New York. I slept through hundreds of rounds of the flight, then just moved as my exhausted brain would allow.

Before I knew it, the building, the same one from the website, was right in front of me.

I got out of the taxi and stared at the three-story building, a pale cream colored white. I was surprised; it looked much better than in the picture.

The website photo looked like someone had just quickly snapped a picture and filled out the information hastily, but the real thing was much nicer.

"Hello Mom, I've arrived at the accommodation, but I haven't gone in yet,"

Mom called at just the right moment. I moved to a walkway and dropped my bags on the ground.

Mom wished me well and hoped I'd find lovely housemates. The room type I was in shared all common areas, but I had my own bedroom and bathroom. Mom and I talked for several more minutes. I quickly wiped away the tears welling up in my eyes, touched by her blessings and warm voice, and by the fact that I was alone in a strange place.

"Don't worry, Blue. My child is strong."

A screeching sound came from behind before she even hung up. When I turned around, I saw a tall, thin man riding a skateboard toward me. His sleepy expression changed slightly when his eyes met mine.

Was I blocking his way...?

Realizing that, I stepped aside, but he stopped. He planted one foot on his skateboard, making it bounce up, then caught it in his arms. His light brown eyes looked at me before moving to stare at my many bags and luggage.

"Hi, you're the one staying here for four months, right?" he asked rapidly in English. Luckily, it wasn't difficult vocabulary, and the accent wasn't as jarring as it had been during my trip to England.

"Yes, hello," I replied quickly, stuffing my phone back into my pocket.

"Great, I'm Jasper." I extended my hand for a handshake, watching as he gestured towards the building and moved to help me with my bags. "Come on in. Nobody's back yet; they're all at university."

Once inside, I was even more stunned. So stunned I wondered if I'd come to the wrong place. This didn't look like the compartmentalized apartment building I'd envisioned. It wasn't a large building with the university dorm vibe I'd expected in Thailand.

The first floor was a large, open space with tiled floors and a raw concrete aesthetic. White walls, one of which was abrick wall, featured a modern black fireplace. There was a large square table that looked like it was for work, and a small kitchen counter area. This seemed to be a coworking space for the residents.

Going upstairs, I found an even larger kitchen. This floor also had a shared living area: a sofa set, a large TV, a dining area, and separate rooms. These must be the bedrooms.

"We don't have a caretaker because this isn't a dorm. If you need something or want something taken care of, tell anyone who's here, or leave a note on the dining table. If they aren't too lazy, they might help...

This is the common area. Help yourself to anything in the fridge as long as it doesn't have a name tag on it. That's Anwar's room, and that's Hazel's. There's another roommate in there named Ruby, but she doesn't show up much because they just had a fight," Jasper explained rapidly, pointing to different areas.

"Okay, come on, your room's on the top floor."

Jasper leaned his skateboard against the wall on the second floor before jogging up the stairs ahead of me.

"That's my room, and that's yours. Actually, it belonged to Jordan, but he got his heart broken and decided to go off to South Africa, so you're taking his place," I looked around the floor. There was a stylish laundry area, a sofa, a guitar, and a large bar.

"What's that?" I pointed to a clothing rack in the corner. Several outfits hung there, but they didn't look like normal clothes. They seemed more like art installations or something.

I couldn't describe them properly; I'm not that artistic.

"Oh, that's Anwar, from downstairs. He studies fashion," I nodded, finally understanding.

Jasper removed his bright red hat, revealing brown hair.

"These washing machines are free to use. If someone leaves their laundry and doesn't take it out, just toss it in that basket. And that's your room, go ahead and put your stuff away," Jasper emphasized the room again.

I nodded, quickly thanked him, and carried my belongings into the room.

It's exactly as I thought. This isn't a dorm, it's more like a house where friends share living space. Something like that, anyway. But if my room was Jordan's room, not an empty room, then it's not really a dorm as the other guy said.

And what if this Jordan guy decides to come back early and misses his home? Will I be kicked out to sleep on the streets?

At first, I thought Jordan's belongings would still be here, at least some of them, like clothes. But I was relieved when I opened the door and found it completely empty. Maybe someone cleaned it out before I arrived.

I was only halfway through unpacking when sleepiness attacked. I frowned.

My intention to finish organizing my room on the first day was immediately abandoned; my body was too tired to push through.

I quickly showered, changed clothes, and collapsed onto the bed. Being in a strange place, I couldn't sleep even though I yawned until I cried. I finally jumped up at 2 AM, went to get some water on the second floor, and saw someone's back. But they went into their room and closed the door before I could say anything. If that was their room, it must have been Anwar's.

I wouldn't dare shout a greeting to someone unless we were face-to-face anyway.

Oh well. I have four more months here. Whether I greet him today or not, I'm bound to run into him eventually.

I don't know why, but that brief description of him and the work I saw made me curious. I kept thinking about that fleeting glimpse of his back and his name.

Anwar... Anwar... A guy who studies fashion.

I wonder what he's like.