Roland woke up feeling very exhausted. It was like even though he had slept and taken a good amount of rest for about 9 hours, he still knew he was too restless in his sleep that it amounted to nothing.
He went to calm himself and wash his face in the mirror. Once again, he was met by that face that wasn't there.
Roland tried to ignore it, and went to sit on the edge of the bed. He picked one of his vinyls, and chose a gift by Artea Holmwood. She gave him a collection of tango, jazz and other mellow music that she claimed often helped her think or lose some steam.
He picked at random, and accidentally picked 'Ojos negros, que facinan'.
The dark eyes that fascinates.
Roland frowned, feeling even more restless at the lyrics he understood. But he still kept listening to it, until he did find his mind settling a bit.
He had to take care of Felix Garcia's case. They still had to peek into the memories of the boy that night. He gave Harker a call, though he was a bit hesitant, and because it was already 12:51 pm. He must be having lunch.
When there was still no response, Roland sighed and thought he should just go over there later.
But eventually, Harker's voice came, seemingly breathless.
"Ugh… Hello? Who is this? Dad?"
The voice of the tenor singer in the vinyl record came just in time to sing the lines:
"Ojos negros, dulces ojos~
Son tan crueles y tan piadosos~"
Roland swallowed. "Hey… It's me. Are you up to visit Felix now?"
Harker sounded so relieved when he replied. "Roland! Oh thank god, you're awake now…. I was worried. You sure you okay?"
The song continued on the background:
"Ojos negros, que arrebatan~
Ojos negros, que me matan~"
"Yeah." Roland replied.
His heart felt like it was beating in that same, rhythmic thumping of the tango music. The more he spoke to Harker, the more it gradually quickens in pace. Accelerando.
"Really? I'll be on my way there. I have something to tell you before we go over to Felix. It's about Ivan and that 'circus'."
The singer was getting emotional now as he sang the bridge:
"Voy pasando por mi vida atormentada~
Bajo el fuego abrasador de tu mirada~"
Roland nodded softly. "Okay…. I'll wait for you."
He sat down, and just listened to the song with his eyes closed. Like the mirror, it seemed to reflect a part of him. A part that he doesn't like seeing.
"Voy cruzando por la vida~
Como una pobre sombra perdida~"
He looked at his own shadow at this. The dark thing kept on following him wherever he went. He wished it would just go away.
"En el fondo de mi alma ya no brilla~
Más que el fuego abrasador de tu pupila~"
Dark eyes that haunt him, dark pupils. It's everywhere he goes, burning him….
"En el fondo de mi alma~
Donde siempre tu amor vivira~"
He heard someone else's voice with Harker there. He knew why he was breathing roughly. He could almost imagine it vividly…
That was Mina's voice.
His fingers in her golden hair, pulling her close... Possibly whispering sweet nothings as they shared lingering kisses….
The door suddenly opened just as the song ended on that lingering note, and Roland joltled.
"You seriously need to buy new teacups, Roland. Or at least ask the servers to clean them properly. There's stains in them."
It was the familiar voice of a dark-eyed woman. Roland felt the heavy feeling go away, at least temporarily.
Artea Holmwood was here, holding a teacup. She handed it to Roland, and didn't say anything for a while. She knew how this guy likes to keep things like speaking his mind at his own pace. She had to tread carefully like walking through a path of mimosa leaves, or else he would fold shyly like them.
Roland took a sip, then said. "I had…. I think it was an anxiety attack."
Artea nodded. "Second time this month. I think you should get it checked."
"I'll be fine. I probably know how to deal with it better than any shrink. I'll just take some of the pills that I used since high school." Roland sighed.
Artea's dark eyes were covered by her thick and luscious dark eyelashes. It was so dark that it was almost pure black.
Just like…
"The problems of the soul can't be fixed with a cure for the body." She just said. "It's a different disease that you have, Roland. It's been with you since you were so young. And the best solution is…."
"Pluck out the source. I know. But I can't." Roland bit his lower lip.
She frowned at this. "Why do you have to involve him in the case too? Why do you have to follow him everywhere he goes? I just don't understand…. I'm sorry. I really don't."
"It's alright. I know you don't. You never felt that way." Roland said.
"I don't think I ever will." She smiled. "That's why you wanted to marry me, right? Because you know it won't be so complicated with someone like me. Someone incapable of that thing."
Roland rubbed his chin. "Have you ever thought…. That you just haven't met the right person yet?"
Artea laughed bitterly. "I did. For a long time even. But that's not it. There's a lot of people like me too."
"Of course. I know that. It's just that… people change."
"I know that too. If I did change..." She looked wistfully. "If I somehow feel it, even in just small amounts….. I don't know. It just felt like more trouble than it's worth. I have many things to do. I can't have that kind of thing interfering with my life, and I'm happy the way I am. The way I feel around people. I love people, I love a lot of people. That's why I want to serve them and this country."
"Yeah. That's also a good way to live. A good passion." Roland nodded. "I envy you."
The woman smiled. "It's not that you wish you're like me who never feels it. Actually, I don't think you hate feeling at all. You just hate the pain."
She was right.
He leaned his head on her shoulder. "I had a chance to get rid of this pain. Just erase it all. But I didn't. Now I feel stupid for not accepting that."
She scoffed. "That's because you won't be the same person anymore. You can't pull out the weed because it has placed its roots too deep inside you. Taking that away would be taking away who you were your whole life."
"You were defined by it."
She was right again. That's all he was. All his life, he was the one who was in constant pain, who kept a secret and hid in the shadows.
The door swung open once more as his familiar voice came.
"Roland, I'm here—"
Harker stopped in his tracks when he saw them embracing like that. Roland raised his head up slowly from Artea's shoulder, looking sickly and pale.
"Hello, Hark."
Harker just grumbled. "She's here again. Whatever. Maybe she's an expert in tarot too, I don't know. Anyway…"
Roland couldn't pay attention to what he was saying as he noticed the marks on Harker's neck.
".... So I need to have you interpret this for me. The Lover's card. Why would Ivan hand this as evidence, and say those words?"
"The Lovers…" Roland mumbled softly as he took the card.
As he did….
He could feel those dark eyes gazing at him. So dark that it could reflect him clearly and show what he truly was. What he was hiding.
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