"So that's the plan," I finish.

In the end, I couldn't sleep a wink last night either. My head was clouded with too many thoughts which kept piercing through my drowsy consciousness every time I was reaching the stage of Almost Asleep. Not to mention every time I drifted away, a vehicle would audibly pass by and disturb my light sleep. Perhaps I did fall asleep for like 10 minutes, and even that was consumed by a horrifying nightmare where Edgar was being forced to use the girls' washroom. I can still see his teary face every time I close my eyes.

"Ya trynna tell me, young man," asks a flabbergasted Mr. Azim, "that you gonna walk all the damn way down to the cedar forest?" A piece of noodles is dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Mr. Azim is the same bus driver whose wallet I prevented from getting stolen last night, and who thanked me endlessly because it was his daughter's birthday. He is a cheerful man on his late 30s. Coincidentally, both of us are back to the same restaurant at almost the same time for breakfast. Mr. Azim is having chicken noodles and potato salad for breakfast. I am having a delicious pancake (I could never tell mom that I wanted pancakes for breakfast). Mr. Azim has ordered a cup of milk tea for the both us.

When he saw me, he cracked a wide smile and immediately made himself home on the chair across from me, without even asking if he can. I was heavily uncomfortable at first, but the more we talked, I realized he is very friendly and became comfortable soon.

"That's the plan," I repeat, taking the last bite from the pancake and putting down my knife and fork.

"But it would take ya, like, five hours? Six? Even more? And do ya even know where the forest is, young man?"

I look down at the plate in embarrassment. "Uh . . . we were thinking of just checking the GPS."

"Huh? We? There's someone else with ya?"

Shit. "Ah no, I meant my, uh, me and my . . . bag." I pointed to the bag which is on the chair beside me, giving a nervous glance at July who is sitting on the chair beside Mr. Azim.

He lets out a hearty laughter. "Ayeh, I see!" He slurps on the noodles and then eats two spoonfuls of salad and then takes a sip from the tea, mixing all three in his mouth before starting to chew. I almost puke. So many kinds of people in this world.

He continues. "Anywho, the cedar forest ain't even in Greenwoods, it's jussa part of the Greenwoods forest, which stretches all the damn way up to Adeemore, two towns away, ya see? A portion of it falls in Greenwoods, though, but a very small portion. Issa lil' deep into the woods, but y'all can find a trail leading there easily. And that trail, if ya walk, is a bit hard to find, easy to miss, and woulda definitely take over five hours to reach. And that ain't the only trail out there, young man. You choose the wrong one, and instead of the cedar forest you reach into the gingerbread house of a damn witch. Ya know what I mean? Ya do know the story of Hansel and Gretel right?"

"Of course." I nod and let out a small laugh. Was it a gingerbread house though? I don't remember at all. "But I have no choice, Mr. Azim. I'm short on money, and I need to stay here for a while. Time is not a concern; I have no particular aim other than to visit the forest, come out, and somehow pass the next two weeks in this town. Or wherever the world takes me. I can relax. But I see your point. I truly don't have any real idea about how to go there."

"Ayeh, that's what I'm here for! Allah's definitely brought us togetha for this reason. Ya rememeber that I'm a bus driver, right? I can hop ya in."

"Ah, I'm sorry, Mr. Azim. The whole reason I am walking is to save the money. So I can't . . ."

"I'll let ya in for free as thanks."

"Oh no no no." I vigorously shake my head. "Please, I insist. I wouldn't be able to enjoy a ride I haven't paid for. Thanks a lot for the offer, though."

"Nayeh, lemme finish, young man! My bus leaves at . . . hmm, lessee-12 pm, right- at 12 pm today, just an hour before Zuhr, and I'm heading north, Inshallah. The trail falls on the way, I know where it is by heart. And I don't have seats to offer ya, alright? The house is booked. But there is a place I can fit ya in. Ya don't need to pay to sit there, 'cause that place is for luggages, mostly. I have sometimes taken in penniless hitchhikers and let 'em sit there. It's just something I do. I ain't calling ya a penniless hitchhiker though, don't gemme wrong, young man- I can tell ya from a good family - but yeah, ya get what I mean, right? Issokay. That seat is for special circumstances. I almost missed my only daughter's first birthday, but 'cause of ya, I didn't. That is payment enough. But jusso it makes ya feel better, I can offer ya that seat. And trust me when I say, it's the best seat in the whole damn bus."

Hmm. There's little to argue about. I take a sip from the tea, which is also delicious, and lean back against the chair. I glance at July, and ask him the question with my eyes. He shrugs and replies, "It's out of gratitude, dude. Think of this as a reward for something good you've done."

Hmm. It will be exhausting to walk that long a way for sure. Not to mention how we can in no way take the risk of getting lost in a forest as huge as this. If this kind man can give us a free ride and even show us the direction, then there really is little to argue about. Moreover, it might make him feel better to be able to do something as a token of gratitude.

I smile at him and look at my watch. It's a little past 8 now. Still a lot of time to kill. I sit straight and reply, "I'll take that offer then. Thanks a lot, Mr. Azim. You're truly a savior."

"Tabarakallah!" He laughs. "Then I'll see ya at the bus station. Oh! Where are you staying right now?"

"Oh, uh . . . I stayed the night at a bus stop," I shyly reply.

He laughs again. "I ain't surprised. Ya wanna come over to my house, to kill the remaining time? My wife is a sweet woman."

I politely shake my head. "It's okay, Mr. Azim. I'm gonna stay around, maybe read a book. But once again, thanks for the offer."

"I get it. But it ain't like we gonna meet again, eh? I'm just someone passing by."

I smile. "So am I."

"So you are." He nods and stands up. "Then I'll see ya later at the bus stop nearby, young man. You gonna stay here for a while?"

"Yes. I have a very important call to make."

-------------------------

It completely slipped from my mind that today is a school day.

Which means I can't call Edgar yet. It's still only a bit past 8:30 am, and the lunch break is at 10. So I will call him a few minutes after 10. I am pretty sure he is gonna kill me over the phone for being so late in contacting him, so it's nice that I have one and a half hour to prepare. I just hope I can find enough gap between his cursing to push in the fact that I didn't call him last night because I thought he was asleep.

The restaurant isn't that much crowded right now. The rush hour was apparently at 7 to 8, and so it's slowly getting calmer. I don't think anyone will have a problem with me if I just sit here at a corner minding my own business. So I reach into my bag and take out Norwegian Wood.

The cup of tea is tasty, even more so because I didn't have to pay for it, but I drink it slowly to buy more time. It will probably turn into a cold sorbet by the time I am done. I glance at July, who is just looking at people around him. He seems to find great interest in observing people, and maybe that's why he can judge them so fast and accurately. Right now, he is observing a young woman sitting alone in a table for four like mine on the other corner of the room.

I lightly kick his leg under the table. Surprised, he looks under the table with a frown, and then looks at me. I hide a smile. He is so cute.

Stop it, Cedar.

Shaking my head, I slightly hold up the book and say in my thoughts, "I'm gonna read a little."

He shrugs and says, "Okay." And then turns back to the woman. She has ordered a plate of red pasta. Her long, wavy, black hair is covering her neck and shoulders like a veil. Her dark skin reminds me of roasted coffee beans. Somehow she radiates an aura of mystery.

Shaking my head again, I open to the next Dawn's note in Norwegian Wood.

It is a short one, only a few pages after, quoting the line where Toru said he doubted whether he could really love anybody.

This kind of reminds me of brother Dale. Hey Ced, I really hope one day he will get the love he deserves. Until then, why don't you give it to him?

—D

I smile at the note. I hope Dawn is happy to know that Dale is finally getting the love he deserves, and that the relationship between the two of us has developed ever since July came.

Now that I think about it, Dawn is the one who made it all happen, directly or indirectly.

Wow.

Dawn had always told me to sometimes try to talk with Dale, but I never really bothered with it. I should have listened to him more often.

Instead I chose to only think of myself.

A bitter taste returns to my tongue, and I take another sip from the already cold coffee to wash it away. Then I move on to the next note.

I find it only a few pages later too. I close the book and examine the side of it. There are many sticky notes inside it, making it thicker than it actually is. I'm only 40 pages in and I've already found six notes, which probably means that there are parts where Dawn hasn't written a note for several pages.

I open it again to the note. Here Dawn's handwriting looks a bit messy, and there is a word over which the ink has scattered a bit because of water. My heart sinks. Was he crying while writing this?

Toru and Naoko have such a strange, undefinable relationship. Both of them are leaving so many things unspoken, that I'm almost sure something will go wrong at some point.

Well, he predicted that correctly.

However, in some small ways, they remind me of us. Cedar, I don't know if you have ever realized this, but we too have left many words unspoken, and many conversations unfinished between us. It's too late now though, isn't it?

I swallow the lump in my throat. An ache rises in my chest when the vivid images of that certain night attempt to pierce into my mind. It's the one thing I don't want to think about, and yet, the smallest things drive my mind to that place. I swallow again, and read the rest.

Cedar, I want to tell you this, but please never ignore your feelings. Start the sentences and finish them. Whatever happens afterwards will happen. At the end of the day, no matter how much your actions speak louder than your words, words will be the only means of affirmation.

—D

But you were the one who didn't let me finish my sentence back then, Dawn.

I forcibly pull the brake. No way am I going there, not right now, in full daylight, while sitting in a restaurant. So I close the book. My eyes slowly move to July.

He is looking at me right now.

Cheek buried in his arms on the table, his eyes regard me with a strange look of understanding from under the lashes. A gentle ray of sunlight partially illuminates his face. One of his eyes glimmers in that sunlight. I can't hold his gaze for too long. He might read everything inside me, even the lines I myself can't read, even the lines I'm skipping while reading. He might dig out buried time capsules from the lowest corner of my heart, and he might open it up and see what's inside. I can't let him do that. I can't let him know everything.

So I look away, and focus on the cup of murky tea instead. Having lost all my appetite, the delicious milk tea looks repelling to me. I still drink the remaining portion of it at once. The cold tea is now tasteless, making me feel uncomfortable as it runs down my throat. I sigh.

July's hand slowly comes and lands gently over mine.

He takes my fingers and lightly squeezes them. His skin looks even more pale beside my brown one. I glance at him, and feel relieved seeing him looking somewhere else. This small act of support is enough to make me feel better.

I spend some more time in the restaurant, waiting for the clock to strike ten. I meet the little waiter boy from last night again—the kid who was so happy to hear me say thanks to him—and he introduces himself as Rajesh. He is awfully happy to see me, as he thought I left last night. Apparently this restaurant is run by his father. When I ask him why he didn't go to school today, he tells me his father stopped letting him go after seeing he isn't doing well in the exams. So instead, he helps around the restaurant.

"It's not that I don't like studying," he says with a sulky face, "it's just that exams scare me. My brain freezes. But Abba doesn't understand. He thinks I'm just lazy."

I internally sigh. I'm tired of hearing about parents who don't listen to their kids, who don't try to understand their kids. It's just so wrong.

"Oh!" Rajesh exclaims with a clap. "I have something for you! Wait." Then he runs off towards the kitchen. He comes back a while later with a handmade paper swan.

He hands it to me and says, "Abba taught me how to make this last night! So I made a paper bird."

My face flushes up. I look at the paper swan, then back to Rajesh, and say, "Th-thank you. It's- it's amazing." A laughter of joy bubbles within me. "I love it so much."

The boy only giggles. Who would have thought a random kid from a random restaurant in a random town would end up making me so happy?

I fondly look at the swan, and then I put my hand on Rajesh's shoulder. I get the deepest urge to somehow adopt this child right now as my son and just take him home with me and raise him with lots of love and care. But I know I can't do that, because first of all, I'm a child too.

I tell him, "You know what, Rajesh? You shouldn't always remain confined within these walls, making only paper birds and getting scolded by people all the time. There is a vast world outside, filled with real birds, and so many different kinds of people. One day you should go out and explore a bit, and find a road you want to pick for the journey. I'm pretty sure you won't regret it."

He thinks about something for a while, then just as he is about to open his mouth, a thick and harsh voice of a man calls him from the kitchen, and says something in another language. Rajesh glances there, a look of urgency and nervousness falling over his face. My heart sinks at the sight of a child growing up fearing his own birthgivers. Is this how pathetic I always looked?

My hand drops from his shoulder. He looks back at me and says, "Abba is calling me."

I nod. "You should go."

He nods as well. Before he leaves, he tells me with a smile, "Amma tells me of the vast world outside every night. I know about it. And one day, I will surely fly with the real birds."

.
.
.
.
.
.

07.02.2021

hello lovely readers! hope you and the ones you care about are all doing well :)

i keep getting the feeling that this book is starting off a bit boring :/ it's my first time writing a sequel, which is probably why i'm not doing a good job at it. idk, but i just want to put it all out there for now. maybe i will edit stuff later to make it better.

today is an important date. i don't know if you all remember, but TWFH was dedicated to an uncle of mine named Prince. today is his 1 year death anniversary.

it's hard to believe that it has been a year already, especially because i remember today from a year ago in a crystal clear way, and i can still feel the pain with almost the same intensity. it's strange. but this same pain led me to write TWFH, to lock the pain of losing someone you love for the first time in words, and i suppose that's the only good thing that came out of it.

Please take care of yourselves, and watch over the ones you love. thank you so much for reading.

— love, Poma