"Aren't delivery boys supposed to hit on bored housewives?"

While on a routine delivery, Milliardo runs into a eerily familiar young girl.

Well, nothing really changed. Other than now being obliged to tell anyone who asks that yes, I do have a girlfriend, it's the same old, same old. Just recently I read a story about some poor loser who got a beautiful young girlfriend just like me, who was also approached, just like me, but unlike me, his story ended by realizing he was being played from the very beginning. The lesson I learned vicariously was that if a beautiful girl approaches you and it seems too good to be true, odds are it probably is.
I feel bad for the guy and all, but you can't just blind yourself like that. For all the time he spent ignoring that voice in the back of his head, he could have done something useful. Live and learn, though, right? My point here is, that life isn't going to be suddenly be all sunshine and rainbows. Today, again, is just another day in the life of Milliardo Wright.

“We will deliver” is the slogan of the delivery company I work for. It's simple and may or may not actually be true, but it's enough of a promise to ensure a customer base. My days off here are basically relaxation periods. I wouldn't call myself a workaholic since I've little personal interest in this 'job', but if I ever stop then I start to think and then it's back to square one. To avoid this, I try to keep moving and don't give myself time to think about unnecessary things.
What this 'job' basically entails is that when a customer orders something online or from a catalog or where ever middle aged women tend to find the things they themselves can't find the time to go out and find for themselves like say shoes or a make-up kit, the things they want get sent to us and then it becomes our problem to take it to our customer. We're not a big company, though so we only operate within a certain area. We don't service the whole city. Thus, we all do our part to keep this big wheel called capitalism spinning and social order retains the status quo.
It requires a bit of legwork, but I don't mind since I enjoy taking the scenic route. The company itself doesn't give us worker ants any form of transportation so how we get where is up to us, be it bicycle or bus or in my case walking. So long as it gets us to where we need to go and in a punctual manner, it doesn't matter how.
Generally, it's an easy job once you get used to the neighborhoods and figure out your routes. Since I wasn't born here, it took me a while before I could get into the swing of things, but I know the area like the back of my hand now. All you have to worry about then is just getting the signature of the recipient and that's that, simple. However, as the situation with the Angel proved a while ago, life kind of has it out for me.
Case in point...
.
“'Angel,' eh?” Even their last names start with an 'r.' I hope that is all they have in common. It's a good thing their addresses are completely different. Compared to that apartment building, this street of small houses really seem like a nice place to live.
Well, her goes nothing. I ring the bell on the side of the door and waited for a response. It was only a few seconds, but the dramatic tension was higher than usual. It occurred to me then that the name 'Angel' didn't necessarily mean that a women was going to answer the door. Why am I so paranoid about her name, anyway?
The person who answered the door was a female, but a bit younger than I was expecting. She looked to be somewhere around around the ages of 11-13, had long straight black hair and brown eyes. Her face was cute as well, definitely going to be popular and troublesome in a few short years. Usually, this is the part where the other party says “yes?” but since I'm the 'adult' in this scene I ought to be the one to play the role here and now.
“Good afternoon, I have a delivery for....” I looked at the name on the package even though there was no need to and read it aloud, “...Angel Rose. Is she in?” That I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, I didn't even try to hide it.
“Ah-” the girl opened her mouth to say something....
“Iris, who is it?”...and was interrupted by a woman's voice from somewhere behind the scenes.
I don't know why, but that one simple distraction was enough to flip the entire atmosphere I had gone out of my way to create. The girl's expression became one of a person who was enraged for some reason and then, as if to shut out that voice, slammed the door.
And so, this is how I ended up standing outside with a prepubescent girl with an awkward tension building between us. I couldn't think of anything to say and so just passed glances at her face, at her emotions.
Unreasonable anger
shame
...Something like that, anyway. Like the moment when you act out of frustration and then immediately regret it. I recognized it because it wasn't exactly foreign to me. It wasn't so long ago that I saw something similar in another person, after all.
Now, this has nothing to do with me; not her or her problems. Common sense is telling me I should just talk this girl into giving me her signature or ignore her and get the other woman to sign instead and be on my way.
I close my eyes and think for a moment, what would the Angel do? Knowing her, she would probably....
“Hey, kid, I don't really know what's going on....and if you don't want to talk about it, fine, but if you do then, I'll hear you out. In return, can you sign for this delivery?”

Rosewood, that's the name of the gigantic park in this city and the same place where the Angel and I had our first date. There are about three different entrances that I know of and we live relatively close to each one. I live towards the northern entrance and Angel lives directly south and this girl, Iris Kelly, lives on the eastern end of the park. The 'coincidences' sure have been piling up lately. I guess this is what happens when you get involved with women.
Iris Kelly, there's no real reason for me to help her or get involved with her personal problems. What I mean is, I'm not obliged to. I'm just a loser and in this situation, I am a fish out of water too. Beyond just listening and giving out some half-assed advice, I probably can't do anything more than that. Also, I'm surprised she came out here so willingly. She probably just wanted a reason to get away. I know that feeling well. Well, it's not like I'm planning anything shady. I just want to do my job and to do that, I need a signature.
For spring, it's a pretty warm day. This part of the park is different from the river Angel and I hung out at the other day. If my end could be identified by the baseball diamond, then this side could be identified by the wide open dual-trailed pavement road which leads into the more heavily wooded area of the park. This would on the other side of that suspicious dark tunnel. Incidentally, at the far south entrance, there's a soccer field which serves as a marker for the Angel's side.
On this long open stretch of empty road where there was but one bench beneath the sun and it was here that the kid decided to sit and after opening the ice cream bar I bought her on the way here on a whim, addressed the issue at hand.
“So, who are you supposed to be? Aren't delivery boys supposed to hit on bored housewives, not their daughters?”
Ah, that's right I forgot how precocious this generation is getting. I'm glad she's aware, though.
“I don't really know about that there. Trust me when I say that I can't be bothered with things like that.”
“So...what's your deal then? I thank you for the free ice cream and you don't look like the type who goes around helping everyone...but I've been wrong before.”
She's also got a smart mouth too.
“It's just...my job, really. “We will deliver” is our motto. Through hail storms, through blizzards, you name it, we will deliver. It sounds unbelievable, I know, but...that's how it is. I don't know what's eating you, kiddo, but if it's just listen to your problems I'll do it. If you want me to keep quiet about it and not say anything about, well, that's fine too. If someone's obviously upset...it's not like I could just ignore them, anyway.”
Whether or not she bought that on demand excuse, I don't know. With the exception of that last part, it was all pretty much the exaggerated truth and even then. The girl stared at her ice cream bar for a moment and then she closed her eyes.
“...I...don't want any parents anymore.” said the girl. “Adults are all the same. They pretend to be interested for a while, but then they just abandon me again. I admit that I had a bit of a temper when I was younger, but I don't really get angry anymore or cry anymore. I don't complain about anything, either.” She paused for a moment and leaned back. She opened her eyes to stare at the sky. “I've been thinking about it a lot, but it's like my life is an open door where people feel free to walk in and out as they please without caring about how I feel about it.” She turned her sad and angry eyes on me. “So don't try to 'help' me if you don't care. If you're not going to take me serious, then get lost.” she said in a completely flat voice.
When faced with their own helplessness, people have generally two reactions. The first reaction is either them giving up while pretending to to care and the second is seeking someone's else's power to make up for what they lack. I'm not a psychologist, but that much is common sense if you think about it.
What will you do, Milliardo? Will you abide by common sense or continue getting involved? Just be warned: don't climb a tree if you can't get back down.
“Well, I'm not sure about what I can do or not to help you...but as I said before, if you want to talk about it, I'll hear you out. Sometimes, it's easier to talk to strangers about your problems since they provide a fresh perspective and you don't have to worry about it coming back to bite you if it's something you want kept a secret. I don't like making promises, but you'll have to trust me that much.”
In hindsight, it was probably because I saw something similar in her that I did in the Angel when she was younger. I didn't do anything back then to help her and just stood by and watched like a real loser. However, that didn't occur to me then. “How could I say I've thrown away my past if I just repeat the same mistake again?” is what I was thinking. That, and that I really wanted to go home and sleep. The girl was silent for a bit as she stared at the ground. After taking a very deep breath, she told me what was bothering her.
“...Well...it's a long story, but...to begin it, I don't have any real parents.”

To hear the girl explain it, it was just something of a fact of life. She doesn't remember who her real parents are and have had many different people take her in. Always moving from household to household and it was always temporary. This new young woman named Angel was kind enough to take her in last year and for the most part, she was the nicest of those who took her in and so she made up her mind to do her best not to give her problems or be too much of a burden even if the whole concept of 'family' was as foreign to her as having hopes and dreams was to me. She was really detached about it all, though, even joked about it at one point.
Still, even though she tried to hide it, there was the unmistakeable touch of sadness and hurt just below the surface, and she was desperately trying to hold it back. Every so often, her voice would crack just a bit and would fumble on her words. I couldn't say why it bothered me so much. Maybe it was because this whole thing seemed like a real case of deja vu.
You know, it's kids under these circumstances that just end up becoming another Milliardo Wright; kids who shouldn't have to deal with reality so soon. If you're asking me how to 'help' this person, there is probably one way to do it.
“...So, what's the problem then? Is there is something you're not telling me?”
“...Well, it's not like it hasn't happened before, but...Angel is...going to leave me too. I know, already, that I might just be paranoid, but I've seen it all before, first they stop talking to you and doing all the little things they did before and it's like their attention goes somewhere else. She's been doing it too, now. Ever since that man came into the picture.”
“So what exactly has been going on? What's this guy like?”
“His name is William. I've only seen him a few times, but Angel really seems to like him and she spends more time with him now with him than with me. This happened once before with the last person too. He got a girlfriend, started avoiding me and then disappeared one day and left a note. I know it's happening again, but...so what? That's why I'm just...going to leave. There's no point in staying where I'm not...needed.”
The girl stood up and stretched her arms out. She walked over to the trash can a little ways off and tossed the wrapper. With her back turned towards me like that, I tried to see into her future. Where would she end up if she did run away and never return. If she decided now to never trust anyone ever again, what kind of person would she become? Would she, like the Angel, overcome her problems and follow society or would she become a loser like me, walking alone with their shadow for company? Will she too, end up waiting for a chance in life that will never come?
I read once somewhere that “Life's all about the people you meet” and whether you have the right person to guide you along or the wrong person to corrupt you will determine just the kind of person who decide to be. I wonder if that's true. Nothing is ever that simple, especially the minds of people. Where ever that glue doesn't stick on those threads of webs we all follow is what we call personal freedom. It's very narrow and there aren't many of them, either. When you're denied even that...
“So you've heard me.” said the girl suddenly, interrupting my train of thought. “I've...thought about it a lot, I have so I know there's no helping it, really. I'm willing to wait and see since, you know, I've got nothing else to do, but...” She turned back around and walked towards me. “I can already see what's going to happen.” She stopped in front of me. “I don't want you to say anything...just give me the thing to sign. I don't have anything to write with though, so...”
“Right...” Ever since I was held up a while ago with Angel, I've been thinking about unnecessary things and have been bringing a pen with me just in case. You don't really think these precautions come in handy until they do.
After signing for it, the girl took the item in question, thanked me again, and strolled off. Even though my original was accomplished, I still feel disappointed. In truth, there's no point in blaming someone for how we end up. We can't even blame ourselves. We're born into circumstances that exist not because of any social issues, but simply because this is the reality we live in and it's utterly worthless to blame something that can't accept that blame.
...And that is why there will always be a Milliardo Wright.