CHAPTER 18

Dinner had just ended, and I liked the brown rice frittata that Tita Cecile made. It made me curious to learn how to make it. I've been focusing on baking lately and wanted to try the main dishes again.

I helped Tita Cecile clean up after dinner. It was just the two of us left in the kitchen, and I kept praising her cooking throughout the chores.

Eric and Derek were busy fixing the drone that Tita Cecile gave her eldest son as a gift for making it to his school's basketball team. Derek is in grade twelve. Hans was in his room doing his homework. He was in seventh grade and diligent with his studies. He reminded me of myself when I was in elementary and high school.

Tita Cecile and I faced each other with an island module between us. She was washing the dishes while I was eating yogurt. I couldn't help but ask about their neighbor I'd seen a while ago because I couldn't hide my concern about them, especially the little boy's behavior.

"Clara, that family isn't sociable," Tita Cecile said while soaping a plate. "They're new here too."

"We rode the elevator with them earlier. We've met the child before."

"Oh? You know what? I find them a bit strange," she said as she rinsed the plate. "They often leave their unit; sometimes, I hear loud noises and cries inside when I walk past. I wanted to knock on their door but felt shy because they were not friendly."

She stacked the plates while I helped dry the spoons and forks. "You know, Tita, I just can't shake the feeling. When I met the child for the second time, he seemed scared. I could see it in his eyes. Something's wrong with that family."

"Baby, there you go again." Eric cut in. His sudden appearance made me pause talking. "You're meddling in other people's affairs again. We don't even know them, and the woman didn't acknowledge us earlier."

He grabbed a freshly washed glass and filled it with water from the water station.

Tita Cecile chimed in, suddenly sounding amused. "Oh, since when did you start calling each other 'baby'?"

Eric came over and put his arm around me, still holding the glass of water in his left hand, grinning. "Just earlier."

I touch and gently squeeze his chin. "He said it felt too formal if we called each other by name."

Tita Cecile smiled so wide that her eyes almost disappeared. "That relationship has reached the next level, huh? And if you only knew how much I'm giddying inside right now," she said.

Eric left us after he had drank water. I brought up the topic of mother and child again. I had never been so worried at that moment, and I couldn't explain it. As a 'public servant' on the radio every Saturday, I help those in need. Why didn't I talk to the mother a while ago in the elevator? My concern for them differed from that of our callers or listeners.

"Have you seen the father?" Again, I asked Tita Cecile. We were now leaning side by side in the pantry's counter. She joined me in eating yogurt.

"Last week, I was about to take out the trash when I saw him walking down the hallway. He's handsome but very serious-looking and scary. He has a serious face that looks like he could hit anyone. But in fairness, he's good-looking."

She suddenly stopped eating. "Clara, dear, why are you so concerned about that family?"

She looked at me with a furrowed brow. I explained to her why, with accompanying hand gestures. "I'm concerned about the child's behavior. He looks stressed, and it could cause trauma. That kind of environment is dangerous for a child's development."

"You are a psychologist for real, reading their behavior like that. Forget about it; if something bad happens in that family, we'll eventually find out on this floor."

"Yeah, you're right, Tita." I sighed, thinking about the child's face again. "Sorry for all the questions."

"Don't worry, I understand," she patted me on the shoulder.

My gaze shifted to their wall clock, and I suddenly exclaimed, "Oh no! It's already eight. I need to go home. I still have research to do for my radio program tomorrow."

"Did you know we're all avid listeners to yours here?" Tita Cecile replied.

"Thank you, Tita." I hugged her tightly.

"Eric! Your baby's going home," she called out. She winked at me, and I laughed, covering my mouth. "Drive her home."

Eric arrived, scratching his head. "Do you have to call me like a five-year-old?" he protested. He came closer and put his arm around me.

I slung the cream tote over my shoulder. "Tita, thanks for dinner. Your cooking was delicious. Teach me next time."

"Sure, anytime, Clara... It would be best if you had dinner here more often. Don't spend too much on eating out."

"Okay, let's go, baby," Eric chimed in.

I exchanged cheek kisses with Tita Cecile. I saw Derek waving his left hand, and I waved back.

As we left the door, we walked down the hallway toward the elevator lobby. While walking, I heard faint noises from the mother and child's unit. Although I couldn't understand the sounds, they were still audible. I stopped walking and glanced at their door.

But Eric pulled me by my right hand, his forehead creased. "That happens often, baby. Don't mind it; let's go."

I looked at him and nodded. We reached the elevator lobby and waited. I heard a door open, which made me glance down the hallway. I was surprised that it came from the mother and child's unit.

When a man emerged from there, my eyes widened. He had a strong presence with Sunkissed skin and a shaved head. He was tall and wearing a red basketball jersey, which made his muscular build evident. He was walking in our direction. Our eyes met, and he stared at me intensely. A pinch of anxiety suddenly rushes over me after seeing the man's face for the first time.

"Baby, let's go," Eric interrupted. He was already inside the elevator. I glanced back at him and hurriedly followed.

As the elevator doors closed, the man passed before us, and I saw him up close. He was heading to the other wing of the hallway and didn't notice us, but I noticed the many tattoos on his arms. He wore three earrings in his left ear, a mustache, a thin beard, and clenched his fists.

Fear registered in my mind. I was right all along; something terrible is happening in that family. I grew even more concerned.