Running from Life - 2. Chapter 2: His house

I got out of bed early and put some music on, then pressed the button on the coffee machine. Unknowingly, I believe I have been waiting for this day for a few years now. I’m feeling really happy for the first time in ages. Well, I have been happy sometimes, but this is a different sensation. This happiness feels like it’s going to last for longer than a few hours.

While waiting for the fresh coffee, I open my inbox and check the mail from Seth, even though there are several new emails. I read that paragraph again.

“To be honest, I don't even know why I liked him. Of course, he is cute as hell, that helps, but that isn't my only reason, I guess. I don't know what other reason I could have, but just the looks of someone aren't enough for me. At least, I tend to think of myself as someone who doesn’t just like a person because they're good looking. I want someone with a wonderful personality as well. I can't know for sure if this guy is like that, I don’t know anything about him really. He is very mysterious. Maybe that's what I like about him? Could that be it? He probably is a real thinker, an overthinker. He is someone who could need love, maybe that's what makes him attractive? I can just imagine wrapping him up in my arms. Making him feel safe, feel loved, wanted.”

I feel warm inside. He called me cute and wants me to feel safe. Was it a bad call to leave? I could be in a loving embrace right now if I went back.

No, who am I trying to fool. I can’t love him back, I will screw it up . This was the right choice, I am finally feeling happy, for god’s sake!

I read the paragraph again before reading the other emails. One was about a blog entry awhile ago, the rest were about my last entry.

“Hello anonymous blogger,

I just had to tell you that I feel sorry for you. My own daughter had the same fear once. She talked about it sometimes, she tried to make me understand why she was so scared. She thought I should be just as afraid, she never accepted that I simply wasn’t. Maybe that’s the same for you? You simply can’t understand that other people don’t have the same fear.

Anyway, you talk about this topic a lot. I like your blog posts, but I have to be honest with you, it is annoying me a little bit lately. I won’t ever feel the same way about death, I can’t, I have my own image about it and it doesn’t have anything to do with god. Don’t worry, I don’t think you can convince me I should be afraid, just like I can’t convince you otherwise.

There is something I can do though. I bet you heard this a lot, but for real, try not to worry too much. That’s what my daughter did. Her fear of death kept her busy her whole life. Try to live it as best you can and don’t worry. I know this won’t work, you can’t simply tell someone to not worry, but still, I felt like I had to say this.

I’m looking forward to a blog post about something else! Keep strong,”

Maybe that woman is right, I should write about something else, something new. I think maybe I will lose my readers if I keep complaining like this; I need a new political or scientific topic to talk about, people always like that. I drink my coffee slowly while reading some more emails. There was one with a link in it, something about researching my true identity, it said. I decide to leave it for now. You never know if something like that could destroy my good mood.

I get up and take a small backpack out of my big traveller’s one. I put a small notepad in it. I didn’t really plan how to do this, but I know where to start. The address Yuri said he lived at.

After a ten-minute bus ride, I arrive at a street close to where I should be. I recognise the neighbourhood. I spent hours scrolling through these streets on Google maps street view, both before and after I found out the truth. For the past few months I’ve been so happy, but when I think back, I feel a sadness. Was it worth it in the end? I learned a lot, of course, and I was unbelievably happy like I never was before and never was after, but right now I feel so sad about it all. It feels like I threw away all those years.

I take the street on the right, to get to the backyard of the house. I want to take a good look first. He never broke up with me, I think with a sad smile, so officially we’re still a couple, right?

There is a swing in the backyard and I notice a sandpit with children’s toys. So, if Yuri ever lived here, he didn’t lie about moving away. I walk towards the front of the house and sit down on a bench across on the other side of the road. I put on some music, his music. Most of it is pretty slow-paced music, just as I used to like it. I thought it was great how his taste in music was so similar to mine and I was stupid enough to think it was all meant to be. Now I believe he did everything he could to make me feel that way.

But why? That’s the question I have asked so many times. Why would he have done that? I never met him in a casual way, I was the one who approached him. He can’t have been a your typical catfisher looking for prey. I met someone else first, someone real, I know that much. He met someone who knew Yuri. This couldn’t have been planned that way, it just couldn't!

I can’t cry now, please. I still have to ring the bell, I have to ask them if they know Yuri. That’s going to be my only lead, I think, so I shouldn’t cry. I pick my backpack up off the ground and stand up, but then I reconsider. I hesitate and take a little flask from my backpack. It used to be my dad’s. I got it when I was nine, but I never even touched it. I took it with me now, because I knew I would need some vodka. I take a huge gulp and feel tears welling in my eyes as the warm liquid makes its way down my sore throat. I take another swig and sit back down on the bench. I can see a man walking around the living room in the house. Well, at least someone’s home. He takes something off the floor and puts it away in a big box. Then he walks to the hallway and I don’t see him for another five minutes. I get my notepad out of the backpack and flip through it. It’s full of things Yuri said, which I found noteworthy when I was reading back all of our conversations a few weeks ago. All the things I could use to trace him. I take another sip and notice the man returning to the living room, but this time with a kid on his shoulders. The man runs through the house and the kid raises his arms in the air. I can see the boy is laughing.

Smiling, I stand up, but I feel a little dizzy, still that won’t be a problem, with Dutch courage I dare to actually walk up to the door. I ring the bell and with my heart pumping through my chest wait for the man to answer. I think about running away, but the door has already opened. It isn’t the man, but a beautiful woman.

“Oh hello, what can I do for you?” she asks.

“Well, uh,” I start and I see the man walking towards me as well. He gets behind his wife or girlfriend - I don’t know - and looks at me with a questioning look. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Who is this,” the man asks the woman. I hate it when people do that, it’s just a simple social trick people use because in some way we are all just biological creatures that developed according to several social rules. He wants to show me they are in control, by changing the direction of our conversation whenever they want.

“I don’t know…” she says and turns her attention to me. “Yet.”

“I am looking for someone,” I stumble. I feel tears welling in my eyes again. Why am I doing this?! “He was supposed to live here.”

“Well, we are living here and I bet you weren’t looking for us, were you?” the man says.

“Who were you looking for, love?” the woman asks.

“He is called Yuri… Yuri Martin or maybe Yuri Ryan?”

“No one lives here by that name,” the man says. “I’m sorry.”

No you’re not! “No problem,” I manage to say and turn around to walk away. I cry.

“Wait, we’re not letting you go like this. You’ve been drinking, haven't you? What about you come in a moment and I make us some coffee."

I turn around again and wipe the tears from my face. I notice that the man looks at the woman kind of severe, as if he didn’t agree with this. The woman motions me to come inside, and it made me realise once again just how the woman is the boss in most relationships. The man orders his children to go upstairs as I enter the house. I feel uncomfortable, they obviously don’t want me here, they just feel like it would be irresponsible to let me leave right now. Maybe they will even call the police, that would destroy my whole vacation. But that doesn’t matter to me now, I’m in the house I spent so many time looking at on streetview!

The woman sits down at the dinner table and beckons me to sit across of her. The man, however, chooses to sit on the backside of the sofa. Another sign of control; he won’t sit down at the same table. Needless to say: I feel safer with the lady. “So tell me,” she says with her sweet voice, “why did you think the guy you are looking for lives here? And how come you don’t know his exact name?”

"I... uh... Didn't know him in real life, only on the internet."

"So he was like, a game buddy or something?" The man asks and I nod.

"But why are you looking for him then? And why have you been drinking?" The woman smiles at me, probably to show me she's friendly. I already know that much. "He meant something to you, didn't he? You can tell us, we want to help."

Screw it, new river and all, right? “He wasn't a game buddy, you're right. He is a guy I met a few years ago on the internet.” I hesitate. “I was uncertain about my sexuality, so I looked for sites that might give me answers. I made a topic on a forum and explained who I was. I told gave my hobbies, hoping they could decide whether I was gay or not.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” the dad says.

Well, duhh. “I didn’t know that when I was 12. But you're right, people replied to the topic the same way you did.” I can see I’m rambling, stuttering even. I’m talking really fast, as if I want to get this over with. “There was a guy my age who replied, he tried to help me. On this website there was a place for people who liked to write, and I found out he had his story on there too. So, long story short, I got in touch with him. He knew someone, whom he met on the same website. Anyway, through that person I met Yuri.”

“And he told you he lived here?” the woman asks.

Her husband adds: “Never trust anyone on the internet.”

“Rob!” she sneers at him.

“I talked to him every day for a few weeks straight. I really liked it. You see, I’ve never been someone to share my personal thoughts like that” And yeah, I notice the irony, because my blog is nothing but my own thoughts. “But I talked to him about everything. I was supposed to meet him. Here. But a day before I planned on coming here, he told me it wasn’t possible anymore. A co-worker of his dad, who was a friend of the family, just died. They had to go and see them. But, that was in Australia. So he would probably be gone for a few months.”

“Well, he can’t just leave the country for a few months. He is obliged to go to school.” This was the first kind of nice thing the dad said at all.

“I know. I told him the same thing, but he said an exception was being made, he could do his schoolwork in Australia.”

“You think he lied?” the woman asks. “Do you want some more coffee by the way?”

I shake my head. “I think he lied. After a month or something, he told me his father was taking over the job of his friend. So they had to stay even longer. In the end, he supposedly never came back.”

“So why are you looking for him here? You know he didn’t come back?”

“Many things in his story didn’t add up. I’ve been researching it for a year or so now. This was one of my leads. I wanted to know if he ever lived here.”

“Well, we’ve been living here for about five years now, so I think he lied about that too?”

I sigh. “There are things that are correct about his story. And the guy through who I met Yuri is real too, I met him. And he supposedly knew Yuri in real life, so that would mean he was real. I just can’t imagine why he lied about all this.”

“Did you ever confront him with the lies you discovered?” Rob asks.

“As a matter of fact, I did. I asked what school in Lily City he attended and he lied about that. I found out, because I called the school and I told him I was the brother of Yuri Ryan, because that was his name according to him. I told the school that Yuri fell off his bike on the way to school and that I had to call 911. My parents didn’t pick up their phone, so I had to call the school myself.”

“And they didn’t know anyone called Yuri Ryan?”

“No, they didn’t. I confronted him, and he gave me the same excuse he gave me a few times earlier. He said he lied because of his dad’s job. He wasn’t allowed to talk about those details, people shouldn’t be able to find out where they lived and things like that. He told me his family name wasn’t Ryan, but Martin. He wasn’t allowed to tell me what school he attended, at least not on the internet, because you could never know who was reading it. That was, he said, the same reason he didn’t have a facebook page.”

“No offence, but it all sounds like bullshit to me,” Rob says.

I notice how the mom looks at him with an angry expression. “None taken,” I quickly say, trying to avoid any confrontation between the two. I want to continue talking about this. Finally I can let this all go! “I told him I was gonna call all the schools in the neighbourhood to find out which school he went to, but he told me it was useless. The school had signed a contract stating they would deny anyone called Yuri Martin attending it.”

“All his lies are non-traceable. People who lie like this should be put behind bars immediately.” Rob gets off the sofa and sits down at the end of the dinner table, which is a good sign, I think. He wants to be actively part of the conversation now.

“The worst thing is, I don’t really know if it was a lie. I called the schools and all of them had to look on the computer when I asked them if anyone called Yuri Martin attended the school, only to tell me after a few minutes, that no one of that name existed in their online database. There was one school, however, I told them I was looking for a friend of mine called Yuri Martin, because he was supposed to be at my house at 3 o’clock, but he still wasn’t here. They immediately, without accessing the computer, told me they weren’t allowed to talk about their students unless I was able to identify myself as being family of the student.”

“Sounds fair,” the woman says.

“I know. I called that school a week later, with a similar story, but with a made up name. This time they did go on the computer and they told me no one with that name went to that school. So, when I asked for Yuri, they immediately tell me they can’t talk about it, but with someone else they suddenly can?”

“Was it the same person you spoke to?” Rob asks.

I nod.

“What do your parents think about this?”

“I never told them… I, you know, I kinda have a difficult relationship with my parents.” That’s a lie, which feels weird to tell them after being so open with them about someone who kept lying to me.

“Ava, can I talk to you for a minute?” Rob asks. She nods, so they disappear into the hallway. I take the time alone to look around. I can’t help but feel as if this is Yuri’s house. This is where he lived, in my mind anyway. They came back after a minute or two.

“We decided to… wait, we don’t even know your name?” Ava says.

A split second I think about introducing myself as Matt, but I’ve been almost 100% truthful up to now, so let’s not destroy that already. “I’m Adam.”

“Well Adam, I’m a professor at the university of Lily City. I studied linguistics and mastered in quantitative linguistics. You said Yuri was from Australia, right?”

I grant them a puzzled look. “Yeah.”

“Well, if you would be willing to show me the emails he sent or your chat history, I’ll be able to establish whether or not he is from Australia. We can go to the university tomorrow and figure it out.”

“Would you do that for me?” I ask, in disbelief. Even though I do not quite understand what he just offered, I still feel grateful. These people, who don’t even know me, are willing to help me! I think it was a good call to leave home, I’ve met so many great people already.

“Of course,” Rob replies, and Ava adds: “Do you want to stay for dinner?”