The next day was utterly typical. Daniel did the same chores, but it was not exhausting because he did an excellent cleaning yesterday.

Then the afternoon came suddenly, and the heat wave was going strong. The boy grabbed a soda can from the fridge, hissed it open, and beat the heat. He once again swung the fridge door open and looked for something. It was crowded inside, filled with frozen products-boxed juices, sterilized milk, vegetables, fruits, and the like. The cold inside was inviting and comforting, easing the torturous heat brought by the cruel sunshine and failing ozone.

His attention was captured by a scarlet apple peeking behind the jars of pickled fruits. He stretched out his fingers between the narrow space of two jars, flicked the apple inwards, then grasped it. He examined the apple at the level of his eyes, turning it slowly with his fingers, meticulously, oddly. The outside appeared fresh, luring, and playing tricks on the beholder, inviting him to have a bite. But by upturning the apple-a hole was discovered. Underneath the seductive peel entombed a writhed worm feasting the succulent rotten flesh. Rotten like my life, he bleakly thought. He pitched the cursed apple to the trash bin, and the fruit disappeared into its pitch-black belly. Daniel stayed longer, standing by the open refrigerator, mesmerized by the crawling swirls of cold fog pecking his toes.

The doorbell chimed, and it bounced at every corner of the house. Daniel remembered that he had forgotten to close the gate, but the surprising ringing got him all excited. He wished his dad had come down from the ISS just to see him—a chance to make a bit of harmonious noise in their quiet home and feel a warm, tight hug. He pushed the fridge's door close, sprinted across the kitchen, turned left, passed the stairs, and dashed over the sofas in the living room.

Daniel could not hide his excitement, hearing the second melodic chimes ringing through his ear canals. Someone was outside, and that man or perhaps a woman brought a surprise. His heart pulsated at an unbelievable rate. His eyes widened, excited about the presence behind the door, which sparked the idea of his dad coming home.

He twisted the knob. A humid air greeted him. His pupils contracted to adjust against the bright afternoon light. He could see the silhouette of a man with a slender neck. Dangling at the end of the man's arms were a basket of groceries, a brown paper bag, and a black helmet.

The silhouette greeted him, "Daniel!" said the man enthusiastically in a familiar pleasant male voice.

It's better not to expect. Dad can't come down from space today just to say hello, he thought. His spirit cast off, draining his rosy cheeks ashen. "Uh, hello," he replied weakly, "Good afternoon, Nurse Samuel," he managed a smile hiding his dismay.

At least someone is here with a mouth I could talk to, he thought.

"Good afternoon," the visitor greeted back.

"Do you need help with those things?" he quickly asked.

"No, I can manage," he smiled, "I'm here for your mom, to check her health and to deliver some medicines," he shook the small paper bag on his right.

"Oh, okay... that's all?" the poor kid hopelessly asked.

"Where's the strong kid I remember, taking care of his mother all by himself?"

Daniel crouched down, trying to snatch the basket of groceries out of the nurse's hand. He derailed the conversation. "Let me help you. The usual-she is in her room."

"Okay-"

The boy interrupted, making Samuel's mouth open. "I'll leave the basket on the coffee table in the living room."

Samuel angled his chin toward the kitchen. "Better bring it to the kitchen and my helmet too. I'll stay here for the rest of the afternoon."

"Really? You don't have a job today?"

"I'm free this afternoon."

"Or maybe, you lost your job because of this little escape, an hour approximately once a month?"

Samuel inhaled, preparing his thoughts, but Daniel continued to ask him a sequence of questions before he could part his lips. "What are your plans this afternoon?"

"Um-" the nurse wasn't able to utter his reply.

"This basket is heavy. What do you have here?"

"Um—"

"You have a knapsack. I didn't notice that. Is it heavy too?"

"Uh—"

"Give it to me! I'll bring your bag and this grocery now to the kitchen."

Samuel interrupted and started with a deep voice, "Daniel." He got the kid's attention. "Do you want to know why I told you to bring those in the kitchen? Because I want to surprise you. We will cook some food for our snack this afternoon. Maybe I can see your spirit again, a happy kid," he smiled, "But first, let me go upstairs and visit your mother. Understood?"

Daniel couldn't believe it. He couldn't hide his delight. His crumbling world halted, fitting the pieces of jigsaw puzzles in place. At last, someone is here with me with hands that can cook, he thought.

"I'll wait for you down here in the kitchen!" the boy interjected.

———————

Nurse Samuel's heavy footsteps against the wooden stairsteps disturbed the balance of the lad sitting still on a little stool. "That was fast," Daniel sat up straight and looked at his phone for the time, "Just nine minutes with Mommy. Was she in a good mood when you talked to her?"

Samuel replied, grabbing the railing as he descended a few steps down, "Yes, she's all right. She's doing okay," he blinked an eye, "Now, without further ado, we're here to cook! Aren't you excited?"

Daniel twitched his lips, controlling his expression. "Ah... yes, I am excited," he stood and swung his arm as he stepped away from the stool toward the kitchen.

Samuel tapped his shoes against the floor and then followed the shy boy.

"Whoa! Is this your kitchen? I thought I was inside a supermarket," the nurse turned his head to survey the hanging cabinets and drew open some cupboards full of canned goods, condiments, spices, dry goods, and many more. "I can't believe it. I might sound a bit exaggerated. But whoa-" his face exploded.

"I ordered it," Daniel explained, pressing his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. "Well, Dad told me to buy our needs," he grabbed a gadget from his shorts, "With this phone... shopping is just one click away," he tapped the screen. "This is just an ordinary phone like everybody else's phones."

"Your father is a hardworking man, a provider, and um..." the nurse trailed off.

"But Daddy is not here, as always," he said softly.

"Do not think that his absence means a lack of love to you and your mother, your family. I once had a conversation with him on the phone. I called him after the physician gave him his phone number. He was not expressive, and I felt he was just calculating his distance. But based on his short and direct words, his tone was caring."

"I know, I must not question his ways," he swallowed, "But maybe I will be happy if he's here."

"Someday, I can foresee. Why not?" Samuel gazed upon the kid's blank eyes. "You are fortunate because both of your parents are alive, mine... I am praying that they're in paradise. And I thank them for this life."

Daniel nodded, releasing his grip from his jersey tank, leaving a jagged wrinkle.

"Think of all the beauty still left around. Mine is my grandfather," Samuel added.

Daniel nodded the second time, gripping the phone on his side.

The nurse looked at his pocket. "I want that phone of yours. Money is all in there, a giant bank!" he said jokingly to lighten up his mood.

The poor kid snorted and crackled a shy chuckle. "Do you want to see what's inside this fridge?" He swung the fridge door open.

"Whoa! Milk, pickles, and everything," his eyes widened, "I want to live here. Can I live here?

"What?"

"I am just kidding. Shall we start the cooking show?"

Daniel nodded, vaulted up on a chair, and huddled over the glass table, rummaging the groceries. "What's with the potatoes?"

"This nutritious tuber is the main ingredient of our snack," he said while holding a potato, showing all his teeth, encouraging the boy to join him, for he knew this activity would help the poor lad to feel like a kid again. "Are you going to help me... my little chef?"

The curly-haired boy blinked his eyes.

"We will taste something... ooh-lah-lah, a European snack with these," Samuel changed his accent, "From the land where pasta and pizza were invented."

"Italy!" Daniel interjected.

"Indeed, a dish from Italia... signore. We will cook..." he tapped the table with his hands with a climbing rhythm, mimicking a drumroll, "an Italian potato salad!"

"Is it difficult to prepare?"

"Let us see. Maybe help me to answer your question," Samuel raised a brow, "For your first task, kindly rinse and clean the potatoes."

"So easy, I can do that, and... after rinsing and washing, I need a large pan of water to boil them until tender. Am I right?"

Samuel replied, maintaining the accent. "You are right, my little assistant, and—"

"—and boil them for ten to fifteen minutes. I make mashed potatoes," Daniel added.

Daniel rushed to the sink while Samuel was busy staring at him, admiring the little boy who behaved too mature for his age. His skillful hands washed each large potato, scraped the peel off using a peeler, and rinsed them again. And then, he put them in a large stainless pan, turned the faucet to fill with water, and lifted the heavy pot with his lean arms.

"Done?" queried the nurse.

"Done," the kid plugged the induction cooker and set the timer, "15 minutes!"

Samuel continued his instructions. "Now, we will make a dressing. We will mix yogurt and mayonnaise in a bowl."

Daniel opened a cupboard, pulled out a bowl and a tablespoon, and gave them to Samuel.

"Thank you, Daniel," he tore a small box of unsweetened yogurt and poured it into the bowl, "After the organic yogurt, add at least five spoons full of mayonnaise. Mix them well together and season them with salt and pepper."

Daniel passed the salt and pepper shakers to him.

"It's good!" Samuel said while sticking a finger in his mouth, loving the explosion of flavors.

Daniel interrupted, holding a spice up in the air. "You forgot to slice these sun-dried tomatoes."

"Oh, thank you for reminding me."

"I'll be happy if I'll chop these for you." Daniel grabbed a small kitchen knife and a chopping board and sliced the ten sun-dried tomatoes at lightning speed. "Now, shall I add these into the bowl?"

"Yes, and I want you to stir the dressing while I chop a few of this parsley," he chopped it faster and more precisely than Daniel did with the sun-dried tomatoes, showing his knife skills. "I'm a nurse, and I know... scalpel!" he said jokingly.

He added the chopped leaves into the bowl as the boy kept stirring the dressing. Daniel dipped his bony little finger and tasted it, "Whoa, this is different."

A pitchy beep interrupted his glee. "The potatoes are done!"

Samuel drained the pan thoroughly and set aside the hot potatoes to let cool. He asked Daniel for the chopping board, a new knife, and a fork. He cut the tubers into medium-sized chunks even though they were still warm and steaming. Daniel blew the hot vapors to help them cool. After carefully reducing them to fragments, Samuel asked the kid for a large bowl, then transferred the cut potatoes into it, poured the dressing over them, and tossed it again and again until they were completely coated.

"Is it done? Can I serve a few of those for Mommy?" Daniel asked.

"Not yet, kid," he grabbed a roll of cellophane from the basket, "We need to chill the potato salad in the fridge for about half an hour," he dashed around and halted by the gray refrigerator.

Daniel scooted under the table and grabbed the refrigerator's handle. "Let me open it, and for sure, there is no space for that huge bowl inside this chock-full fridge." He emptied an area, taking out some fruit juices, boxed fresh milk, and glass vessels.

"You seem energized!" said Samuel as he put the bowl carefully inside. "The eagle has landed!" he interjected and winked an eye.

Daniel extended his neck, quickly peered, and closed the fridge. "Nurse Samuel, you can have this apple fruit juice. You seem very thirsty."

"Oh, thank you," he twisted the cap open and gulped it in a jiff. "It's refreshing! You can have some too."

Daniel grabbed a bottle of grapefruit juice. "Thirty minutes is a long wait," he scratched his nape.

"Well, we can do a lot of things in thirty minutes. Like, we can look for a place for those fruit juices and jars for better storage, and we can start to clean the dishes," the nurse crossed his arms, "And maybe some chitchat about you and your family."

Daniel pushed his back and swiftly grabbed the drinks, choking on the idea of chatting. There is no point in sharing my life, he thought. "My life is boring, actually too boring and too normal, nothing amusing. It will be just me and the house," he paused, "I'm going back to school soon," he murmured.

"That's good," Samuel folded his long sleeves up while nodding. He bared his healthy copper skin and started with the dishes. He squinted, looking focally to Daniel, who was busily wiping the table with a waste cloth. His lungs felt heavy, thinking of the trail of the poor kid's life experiences. He bit his lip, digging up something in his mind, squeezing his brain for a remedy to upturn the stale air between them. He tilted his head, gazing at the ceiling and eyeing a tiny crawling spider. He squeezed his brain more and turned up and down all its compartments, but his memories were all volumes of hospital thingamabob. An itch in his left eye made him exasperated, dissipating his thoughts into clouds. It was impossible to scratch his eye with his soapy hands, and it was unlikely to spark a chat.

Daniel kept his distance from the nurse, not because he didn't trust him. He appreciated his help ever since he volunteered that night. He didn't want to open his book. Not for now. He was not ready. His core was like a lump of coal, an ember, glowing dimly, smoldering slowly into ashes. He wanted to hide his emotion and mask it under his neutral face. He looked at the nurse, who was now done with the dishes, drying his hand with a towel. He remembered his dad, also thin and with a slender neck but taller. To drop off his longing and the deafening silence, he began to open his mouth, vibrate his chords, and uttered, "Finished!"

The stale air bizarrely became a little lighter.

"I am finished, too," Samuel said.

Daniel checked his phone for the time. Seventeen minutes had flown, he thought.

The kid left the kitchen and quietly headed to the living room, tiptoeing his track. He flopped into the leather sofa facing a painting. Appreciating the difficult art's shapes, lines, and colors was fathomless. Nevertheless, this painting did a great job of stabilizing him a little whenever he was light-headed and confused.

Nurse Samuel sprouted behind him. "Do you like this painting?"

He whispered, "No."

"Why?"

"The painting's called," he clenched his teeth, "The Mother and Child," he uttered, moving only his lower lip.

"Oh-"

Daniel went on. "It's colorful, yes, but rubbish. Where are the mother and the child there?"

"Well, it is abstract," Samuel explained, raising a brow.

"Abstract like my future, our future... we know that the day after this day is tomorrow, but everything that will happen tomorrow is unforeseeable."

"That's the mystery of tomorrow, unpredictable and finite of possibilities," Samuel narrowed his sight, examining the painting, "I can't see either the mother or the child, but I am sure that abstract painting embodies the soul of the artist."

"Soul?" he closed his eyes, remembering the tragic night, "Is it even real?"

"I don't know. Maybe we need to look at it from another angle to enlighten us and see beyond the superficial. The enigma in this painting is one of those."

They hung up. The clock ticked its hand, racing round and round.

Daniel scratched his nape, making a quizzical face. "I give up."

Samuel jerked his neck and saw the hands of the wall clock. "In a minute, our snack is ready," he smiled.

Daniel swung his legs off the sofa, slid his lazy feet into his slippers, and grabbed Samuel's hand, dragging him back to the fridge. Then, they started to taste the potato salad.

"Buon appetito!" the nurse enunciated.

"The taste is unfamiliar," Daniel popped another chunk of potato, "But I like it."

"My grandfather loves this dish," Samuel served an extra plate. "Here, give it to your mom. I'm sure she'll like it."

Daniel followed his command immediately. After knocking and leaving the plate inside the room, he rushed back to Samuel. "I want to hear your story. Do you have a child?"

"None—"

"Why?"

"I chose this life. I dreamed of having a family, a beautiful wife, and two kids, a boy and a girl. But all I have is my grandfather, who cared for and loved me after my parents died in an earthquake. I was nine back then. I was in school, and they wanted to see if I was okay after the quake. They were driving from work to pick me up at my school, but a strong tremor hit again, collapsing a road. A giant sinkhole suddenly appeared, engulfing automobiles, including the car they were riding. I can imagine the darkness of the pit-cars and debris fell, smashing the metals and the people. Trapped! Saying their prayers and crying for help. It was like a mass grave."

Daniel finished his plate clean and served another.

"My grandfather became my guardian. He is a person with a disability. He had a small pawnshop. It was enough to support us, but sometimes business dwindled. He purchased a second-hand photocopying machine, another source of income, and I was the one operating it. After school and on weekends, I was there in his pawnshop, helping him. At afterglow, we strolled a block with his crutches in, bought some potatoes in the street, and walked a few meters to reach the sixteen-story apartment building. I am thankful the building has an elevator because our apartment is on the ninth. We cooked the potatoes and made this, his favorite," he lifted his plate, "Italian potato salad, and sometimes it is our dinner. He is a strong man, but he's getting older. He whines whenever his muscles ache and his arthritis attacks. I massage his limbs tenderly and slowly, seeing his face easing from pain, smiling back at me. And he keeps on telling me that I am an angel. That is why I became a nurse. My life is for my grandfather. And now he's 90 years old."

Samuel ate the last potato and gulped a glass of water. "That's me."

"I don't believe in angels or fairies," Daniel looked directly into his eyes, "but you are."

"Real or not real... you are an angel too."

"I am not," he whispered, looking down.

Samuel searched for his leather watch inside his knapsack and donned it on his wrist. "Oh! It's 4:00. My grandfather is expecting me today. I want to surprise him too."

"You're leaving?"

"Don't be sad," he pulled something from his bag, "Here... for you."

"A Rubik's cube?"

"I used it as a paperweight. I am trying to solve it, but I can't."

"Its complexity is unsolvable," Daniel twisted the three-by-three cube.

"Someday, you will untwist it back to its original form," Samuel smiled genuinely. "In due time."

Daniel accompanied the nurse to the exit. He couldn't say goodbye. His lips were sewn, itching to say something, speechless, dumbfounded. He stood by the door, watching the nurse treading on the gravel path out of the garden. His right arm dangled on one side. His left hand was in his pocket, holding the Rubik's cube, gripping it firmly, clinging on to the last seconds to have somebody in the house. Goodbye, I'll see you another day, next month, he thought.

Samuel dragged his head through a gap in the driveway gate. "Maybe, try to go outside, commune with nature, meet new friends, or be alone, finding peace in troubles!" he shouted, swaying his helmet aloft.

The boy craned his neck, trying to see the motorcycle running the long, straight road ahead. "Bye," he said, then he lowered his head.