Questions and answers

River 

Zara appeared a few moments later. 

She stepped out of the apartment building wearing a pair of fitted jeans, white sneakers and an oversized cream sweater with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. 

Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail that swayed gently as she walked. 

She looked….different.

In one hand, she dragged a large heavy suitcase that seemed determined to stay exactly where it was. Behind it bounced a smaller carry-on, its wheels catching every crack in the pavement. 

She stopped halfway way down the walkway, trying to wrestle both suitcases over the uneven curb. The larger one refused to cooperate.

She tugged once. 

Nothing. 

Twice. 

Nothing 

I watched through the windshield as she blew a loose strand of hair away from her face before looking in my direction. 

The moment our eyes met, she lifted one hand and gestured toward my window. 

I raised an eyebrow but pressed the switch anyway.

The window slid down smoothly. 

She rested both hands on the handle of her suitcase and stared at me. 

“Are you just going to sit there and pretend that you can’t see me struggling?” 

“I was considering it.” 

Her mouth fell open. “You were considering watching me struggle?” 

“I wanted to see how determined you were.” 

She let out a short, disbelieving laugh. 

“River!” She said very serious now, her eyes widened. 

“What!” 

“Aren’t you going to help me?” 

“I suppose I should.” 

“You suppose?”

I couldn’t stop the faint smile they tugged at the corner of her mouth. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

I pushed open the drivers door and stepped out. 

I could scent fresh bread in the air. There should be a bakery nearby. 

Up close, the suitcase looked heavier than I’d expected. 

“What did you pack?” I asked, lifting it effortlessly into the trunk. “Bricks?” 

She folded her arm. “Very funny.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“I packed clothes.” 

“But you know I could buy you new clothes whenever you needed them. And even everything you need.” 

She looked at the second suitcase. 

“I’m high maintenance.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

She shook her head, laughing quietly before walking toward the passenger side. 

By the time I settled back behind the wheel, she had already fastened her seatbelt. 

Neither of us spoke as I pulled way from the curb. 

The apartment buildings gradually disappeared as we moved and were replaced by busier roads and steady Sunday traffic. 

For several minutes the only sounds in the car were the soft hum of the engine and the occasional indicator clicking as I changed lanes. 

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable for me. 

I loved silence. 

Most people who had rode with me had learned not to interrupt it. Except Oliver though. 

Apparently, Zara hadn’t received that memo. 

“So……,” she began. 

I kept my eyes on the road. 

“Do you always kidnap women this early on Sundays?”

“I’m fairly certain kidnapping requires the victim to be unwilling.” 

“I suppose that's true.” 

She looked out of the window for a moment before glancing back at me.

“Don’t you listen to music at least. Because this ride is boring. And my earphones got bad a few days ago.”

I didn't answer her immediately. Music was not my thing. 

“I don’t listen to music. It’s disturbing.” 

“Alright.” 

She rested her elbow against the door, watching the city pass by. 

“So….” she said again, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Why don’t we get to know each other.” 

I spared a brief glance before returning my attention to the road. 

“Is that your way of interviewing me?” 

“It depends.” 

“On what?” 

“Whether you are going to answer me honestly.” 

“I make no promises,” I say, making a diversion on the road. 

She shifted slightly in her seat, turning just enough to face me. “Fine. I’ll start with something simple.” 

I waited. 

“What is your favorite color?”

I looked at her with a grin.”That’s your first question?” 

“I don’t want you to get uncomfortable with the questions I have in my head. So I think we should start with these ones first. And we have to go for interviews if necessary and I think knowing the few details about you will go a long way.”

“Black.” 

She made a face. “Of course.”

“What does that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you are the kind of person who’d say black. Even a two year old would get it right.”

“I will pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

“You are such a kill joy,” she said, folding her hands.”

I glanced at her for a few seconds before picking up my phone to send a text message. 

“My favourite color is green. Thanks for asking.” 

I nodded once. “I wouldn’t have guessed.” 

“I know.” 

“Why is it your favourite colour?” 

She looked at the window for a moment before answering. 

“My mum loved gardening.” 

Her voice softened. She looked down at her hands and I figured something was wrong with the way she played with it. 

“Our backyard was full of plants when I was growing up. She used to say green meant life.”

She smiled faintly. 

“So I guess it just stayed with me.” 

There was something different about the way she smiled after saying that. It was not the playful one she’d worn at the beginning of this drive. 

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. 

She looked at me. 

“For your mother.” 

“How did you know my mum was dead?” 

“You spoke about her in past tense. And your expression gave it away.”

The conversation drifted into a comfortable silence again. 

A few minutes later, she cleared her throat. 

“My turn.” 

“We were not taking turns in the first place.” 

“If you were not running your company….” 

She paused, studying me. 

“…..what do you think you would be doing?” 

It was a question I hadn’t thought about before. Because I’d never allowed myself the luxury of imagining one. 

My fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel as the traffic light ahead turned red. 

For the first time in a long time…..

I didn’t know what to say.