[Danial's Apartment]
'Sitting in my new apartment without anything to do was not part of the plan,'I thought to myself while playing whatever random song I can remember from my past life on the piano…
I mean, if I wanted to be alone, I could have gone to any of my other houses— The only reason I'm here is that I wanted to experience the life of the friends' gang, and because Monica lives here…
'Having so little friends sucks'
When I decided to go to college at six, I didn't fully understand the ramifications it would have on my social circle. But then again, I would have made the same choice even if I had known.
Still, despite what being the youngest in a group of adults does to a person, it has its own benefits…
'Sigh~, I'll find more friends to hangout with later, for now though I should go and visit my parents'
Standing up, I took out my pocket watch—a small, antique-looking golden pocket watch—This was the only thing I kept after my parents' death, along with the photos hanging in my bedroom.
Opening the watch, I saw the picture inside: me and my parents on the day I was born….
Their smiling faces remind me that, even though this is my second life, I still loved them a lot, and losing them still hurts.
*Knock* *Knock*
"Danial, you alive in there?" Monica's voice broke my train of thoughts after her knocking on the door failed to.
"Yeah, yeah, wait a second," I replied as I walked to open the door.
"Hey, where have you been? I haven't seen you at all for the last couple of days," Monica said as she barged inside—manners seem to be lacking these days.
"Please, come inside," I said sarcastically.
"Oh, don't give me that. Answer the question: where have you been? And what are you doing sitting here all alone?" she asked again.
"Oh, I was in the hospital until the chief said I had to go home," I grumbled.
"Do you need anything to drink?" I asked as I walked to the fridge, intending to get a bottle of water.
"No,thank you, I came to ask if you wanted to come to the coffee house with us, and also because Joey has been nagging me about the audition you told him about. He hasn't heard anything back yet."
"Oh, I don't know. Hanging out with you is cool and all, but there's always this tension with the group when I'm around, especially if Ross and Chandler are there," I told her. "As for Joey, the rest is up to him; if he got a role, his agent will inform him."
"Yeah, I forgot to ask you about that. What happened between you and Chandler? He really didn't want to tell me," she gave me her trademark pointed look.
"Oh, that. Well, I may or may not have threatened to rearrange his insides if he ever hurt you when we first met," I mumbled in a low voice.
"What? Why would you do that?"
"Well, I was a little sleep-deprived back then, and in my mind, he was still Ross's insensitive friend. Or did you forget how much you cried when he called you fat that time? Even Nana hated you for a while back then because of how much you cried whenever you called," I replied honestly.
I may have watched the show in my past life, but most of those memories are a bit fuzzy now.
"Oh, right. But that was in the past…" she said in a low voice.
"Look, Monica, you might be right. You've known him for a long time; he might have changed.
But to me, that day he was still the insensitive jerk who hurt you, so I did what I did."
"Fine, but please promise me you'll try to be nice to him. I don't care what you do with Ross; he deserves it—we all agreed you have every right to treat him how you want. But at least try to be nice to Chandler; I love him," Monica said, smiling as she said the last part.
'Huh, I guess she really does' I thought
"Consider it done. I will talk to him and clear the air." I smiled and said
"Okay, thank you," she exhaled, a little relieved.
"By the way, how do you like your new place?" she asked, changing the subject.
"Well, it looks fine. It's not really what I wanted, but at least the second floor is close to what I had in mind," I said, looking around.
The first floor was nothing more than a large living/dining room, a bathroom, and a kitchen, all decorated and furnished in a fairly elegant and modern way— True, it didn't have the Star Wars theme, the large game consoles, nor is it colored black, like I wanted but it still looks fine.
The second floor is my favorite, but that's for later…
"Oh, please! This is what a home should be like—comfy, clean, and homey…"
"Okay, okay! Please, I can't hear the same lecture over and over," I cut her off before she could continue.
"Fine. Anyway, are you sure you don't want to come? What are you going to do all alone? Stare at the ceiling like you used to?"
*I should have said okay the first time she asked,* I thought, watching Monica fire off a new line of questions.
"Well, no. I was just thinking about visiting my parents' graves before you came knocking," I replied honestly while opening the pocket watch again.
"Oh, can I come too?" She asked making me pause for a second to think about it
"You know, I miss them too, especially Aunt Emilia and her chocolate cheesecake; remember how she used to bake one just for me every time …" Monica said softly but stopped by the end.
I think she noticed how abrupt she shifted through the topics…
"Yeah, she liked you the most…She always thought Aunt Judy turned Ross into a spoiled sissy," I chuckled a little, remembering her rambling to my father about how they should keep me from turning out like him.
Monica gave me a strange look and asked, "Did she really say that? And how come you remember?"
"Oh, you don't know? I have eidetic memory. I remember everything that happened since I was a one-year-old child," I said with a smug grin.
"Ooh, that explains a lot," she whispered.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing, nothing," she said quickly, avoiding eye contact.
And then it clicked in my head "I can't believe it! You thought I was a weird little kid back then, didn't you?"
"Not weird, just weirdly mature."
"Yeah, it's the same thing! And for the record, anyone who has the same IQ as me, along with a memory that can retain everything they heard, read, saw, tasted, or touched, would have had the same maturity I had as a kid," I replied, more defensively than I intended—Of course, that was a bit of a lie, but how would she know?
"Ugh, I'm sorry, okay? I thought you were a little weird as a kid because you were smart, and that's it."
"Okay, apology accepted. And for the record, even my parents thought the same at some point. They even took me to different doctors just to be sure when I was three," I told her, smiling as I remembered what happened back then.
"Really? How did that happen? I thought you were the apple of their eye. I can't remember a time they weren't bragging about you"
"Well, as you know, I was a very smart kid—like, "picked up how to read and write because my mom read me bedtime stories when I was two"kind of smart.
Anyway, at first, my parents were thrilled to have a prodigy son— But when they saw I didn't really care about the playdates they arranged or making friends and playing with kids my age, they started to get concerned."
I paused to take a sip of water, and drink slowly trying to rile Monica up a little—which was clearly working, judging by the way she was shifting on the sofa, visibly growing irritated.
"Anyway, I only cared about reading different things. That's when they decided to take me to a specialist.
They took me to five different specialists over the span of six weeks after my third birthday. One of them said I was just too smart for my own good after seeing the results of the various IQ tests they conducted. The rest gave different diagnoses, from mental disorders to autism.
That's when my mom had it and decided I was just too much of a genius for a mediocre doctor to find anything wrong with me.
So she made a deal with me: I would try to make friends, and play for at least an hour a day, either with kids my own age or alone, and I could do what I wanted the rest of the day.
I remember saying, 'We could have done that from the beginning, couldn't we?' And She replied, 'Well, sweetheart, if we did that then I wouldn't have known just how special my baby boy is, would I?'
And so, from then on,I made a friend, I spent at least an hour a day playing with Mom, and occasionally with both Mom and Dad together if Dad was home." I stopped talking as I snapped out of my trip down memory lane, a smile on my face and my eyes a bit watery. Monica was already sitting on the arm of my sofa, her hand wrapped around my head, giving me a small hug.
*Cough, cough!* I pretended to cough lightly.
"So, the coffee house?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from turning into one about feelings, which I knew was coming up next.
"Danny, how about..." Monica tried to say something but I cut her off.
"Look, Monica, I appreciate it, I really do, but You need to go meet the gang, I need to go visit my parents. So how about we stop going down memory lane for now huh?"
"Fine, do what you want, I don't care anymore" she said while flailing her arms up in exasperation….
"Good, then let's get going"….
———-
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