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Tomorrow is Celebration Day. I don’t remember when this day was established. I don’t think anyone does either. Maybe those smart historians know. For the rest of us — you and me, it’s just another day to get free food and drinks and just have fun. But might not be so much fun for me since I work as a waiter at Mama Joe’s diner, which opens 24/7.
Mama Joe isn’t the most popular one. There are ten more diners with more popularity than us. The owner, Mr. Lang, told me once that “just do our best and the customers will keep coming.” He’s right about that. They do keep coming. Every year, we’d get an influx of customers on Celebration Day. People just keep pouring into the diner after most of the free food has been exhausted from the booths set up along the streets.
The most-ordered menu is bacons and pancakes.
Tonight is rather quiet. It’s like a calm before the storm. Me, Jonesy and Hendricks are the only ones still working. Jonathan, Alexandra and Mitchell left two hours ago. They did their shift and now it’s our turn.
My Casio wristwatch tells me the time. It’s eleven-thirty PM. I lie down on the chair with my feet hanging in the air. My baseball cap covers my eyes as I’m about to sleep. I have my arms as the pillows. It’s not the most ideal type of pillow but I don’t mind.
Both of my eyelids are about to close when I’m interrupted by a tall, muscular man with maroon-bleached hair. This is Jonesy and he’s tickling me right in my hips. I’m very sensitive in that spot and he knows.
One thing though — his light brown eyes are mesmerizing.
“Jonesy! I’m about to sleep, man!” I shout and hit him softly with my cap as I giggle.
“I know. Can’t be helped, though. You’re just too damn beautiful to resist.” Jonesy smiles. I do too, in reply. I move my face closer to him and give him a quick kiss.
“I like when you kiss me, handsome.”
“Well, you’re gonna get more of it after our shift ends.”
“Maybe I can get something else too?”
I smirk. “Ask and you shall receive, Jonesy.”
“I’ll be waiting then.” Jonesy smiles again. I can never get enough of that smile of his, really. He kisses me and disappears into the staff room where he would be reading comics for the rest of the hours to come. I’m pretty sure it’s The Siege of Fort Shiganshina he’s reading.
In the staff room, besides from Jonesy there’s Hendricks. She’s our chef. She’s been working at this diner for more than me and Jonesy. On the day I started working here, which was a year ago, Hendricks was already here doing her job and she’s good at it too.
Hendricks is also a woman of silence. She doesn’t talk much. When she does, it’s mostly about stories she’s read from the history books in the library.
“Do you know that there used to be gigantic creatures roaming the Earth and eating humans?” said Hendricks, a week ago.
“I do, yeah. I think we all know that. Didn’t they teach us about them when we were in high school?” I said.
“Yeah but the books I’ve been reading, man, it’s like — it’s like you’re there with those people as they tried their best to survive. And then there’s the story about the Survey Corps and all that.”
“Seems interesting.”
“It is. You wanna read about them?”
I shrugged. “Maybe later. Maybe not.”
I haven’t read them yet. Hell, I haven’t even been to the library at all.
Seeing that there aren’t any customers coming in, I resume back to what I did right before Jonesy tickled me. The cap covers my eyes once again as I’m about to take a nap.
Good thing no one is there to wake me up again.
According to the wristwatch, I have been sleeping for merely ten minutes when I hear a voice calling out to me.
I slowly open my eyes while removing the cap from my head. There’s a man looking at me. I sit straight up, with my hands rubbing my eyes. A yawn follows.
This man, of which I don’t know his name yet, dresses in black suit. I look down and see a blurry reflection of myself on his shiny black leather shoes. Beneath his suit is a white shirt. He’s also wearing a tie of the same color. Even his nails were painted in black.
“Ummm...can I order anything?” The man asks. His voice is soft. A slight piece of anxiety is also present in it too.
“Sure, sure. Take a seat and I’ll notify the chef.” I get up from the seat, straightening my shirt and moving to the right so the man can sit down. He takes a seat and picks up the menu. I grab the pen and notepad located in the left pocket of my shirt. Swinging the notepad open, I click the tip of the pen and wait for him to order.
“I’ll have...this set. You guys still serve breakfast at this time right?”
“We sure do, sir.” The man orders the number three set, which comprises of: three pancakes, four strips of bacon, two toasts, scrambled egg, a cup of tea or coffee and a glass of orange juice or milk.
The man chooses tea and orange juice.
“Pretty heavy for late night, sir.” I comment as I jot down the order.
“I haven’t got around to eat dinner. Been working all day, you know.” The man chuckles softly.
I smile back. “Well, your order will be in no time. As you can see, this place’s almost deserted.”
He nods. I go straight to the staff room, pushing the door wide open. Jonesy looks up from the comics. Hendricks takes off her earphones. “What’s up?” Jonesy asks.
“We have a customer. Set number three.”
“I’m on it.” Hendricks replies. I hand her the order. She takes it and goes right into the kitchen. I take a quick look. She’s already wearing an apron. That’s quick of her.
“Anything you want me to do?” Jonesy questions. I reply, “nothing. Not now. Maybe later but we’ll see.”
“Just come in when you need me then.” He shoots a smile. I go back to where the man is. A clanking sound comes from the kitchen. Hendricks is at work.
I go over to the man’s desk. He’s staring out at the view outside from the foggy window. His eyes fixed at the movements of cars passing by and pedestrians walking.
“Would you like me to clear the view for you?” I ask.
The man turns around, a shy smile on his face. “It’s alright. I don’t mind the fog. Also, would you like to sit? I guess you’ve been standing all day long, yes?”
“You’re half-right, sir. Standing during the day and the night, well, not much. You caught me taking a nap as well.”
He laughs, but not too loud. He has his hand covers his mouth when he does it.
“I guess sitting would be okay.” I sit down on the seat across from him. I observe his outer appearance. The man has short, dark hair and green eyes. My eyes catch his painted nails. A sentence comes out of my mouth, “where did you get that?” My right index finger pointing at it for a brief moment.
“I did it all by myself this morning. Thought I’d try on the nail polish my friend bought for me as a present.”
“Looks great.” I compliment.
“Thanks.” He replies.
I ask him another question. “So, are you like a businessman? ‘Cause you dress like one.”
“Not really. I’m just a secretary.”
“A secretary who dresses this neat?”
The man giggles. “It’s a job requirement. She gave me this suit right on the first day I started working. Boss said it’s what she does with every other secretary too.”
“Sounds like she’s a great person.”
“I think so too, yeah.”
The man leans his head against the window, his eyes gazing at the world outside and then back at me. “Do you like what you do here?”
“Uh-huh. I mean, the money’s not as nice as you but it’s alright. Plus, I get to work with my boyfriend so that’s a plus.”
“Must be nice.”
I nod. The man moves his head away from the window. Hendricks comes out of the kitchen with the food in the plate. “Be right back,” I say, and get the plate for him. “Thanks, Hendricks.”
“My pleasure. Also, we’re out of tea bags. Ask him if he’s fine with just orange juice” she says. Hendricks puts the place in my hands where I carefully set it down right in front of the man. He smiles. The man grabs a pair of fork and knife. The orange juice is on the counter. Hendricks sets it there. I take it and put the glass next to the plate.
“We’re out of tea. Sorry, sir.” I apologize. “That’s okay.” He replies.
Hendricks takes the apron off and goes back to the kitchen where she hangs it on the wall. She goes to the staff room. The door pushes open and swings shut.
I’m back at the seat again.
The man eats his food at a pace that’s not too fast or too slow. Seems to me that he’s found the perfect timing for eating. Not many people can do that. Some eat too fast and don’t get to fully use their taste-buds. Others eat too slow and the flavors are gone, dissipated by their saliva.
He’s cutting the bacons, not eating them whole. He cuts them into little pieces. Strange. I haven’t seen anyone does this. Not that it’s a bad thing. Just...strange.
“I hope it taste good.” I say.
The man chews and swallows the bacon. “It’s great. Really great.”
I smile. “Just so you know, tomorrow every menu is discounted.”
“Nice. I might come back here again. In case I get hungry.”
“I suggest you call us for a reservation if you really wanna come here. People are gonna be packin’”
“Celebration Day, right?”
“Yep.”
“Never celebrate that day in my life, you know. I bet no one really knows why there’s this particular day.”
The man goes back to eating. He takes one of the toasts and bites it. “It’s true, yeah. No one knows. Maybe those—”
“Historians? They don’t know. They know nothing. They pretend to know.” The man says, after he finishes chewing the food. I haven’t seen him speaks while there’s food in his mouth at all.
He puts the knife and fork down. The man reaches the glass and drinks the juice. It’s now half-emptied. He wipes his mouth using his own handkerchief.
“But would you like to know?” The man inquires.
Curiosity is born. I move closer to him.
“Do tell.” I answer.
“Of all the things they taught you in high school. Of all the things they teach those little children. There’s one thing that’s missing. And that thing is — who’s the Colossal Titan?”
My eyebrows furrow. “And you know who?”
“I do, yeah.”
“I mean, how come you know who? It’s been so long. Like, really long since the titans existed.”
“25,000 years to be precise.” The man speaks. This is where the tone of his voice changes into a more serious one.
“Go on.” I say.
“It’s a man named BERTHOLDT HOOVER.”
“Weird name.” I laugh.
“You wouldn’t be laughing if you know him.”
I stop. My mouth mouths the word “sorry”.
“He done things. Horrible things. He was the catalyst of humanity’s greatest downfall. Forget about Reiner Braun or Annie Leonhart. This’s guy the real deal.”
“I know those two. I’ve read Annie died a long time ago when the crystal surrounding her breaks and crushes her. And with Reiner, I think he was killed in action or something like that.”
I pause. “But this is the first time I’ve heard of Bertholdt.”
“Then again, he wasn’t proud of what he did. He regretted them. He thought about them — all the lives he took away from this Earth. To be honest, Annie and Reiner felt the same too.”
“How many?” I ask.
“A lot. Way too many that he lost count.”
“Why did he do it, then?”
“He had to. He, Reiner and Annie were led to believe they were doing the right thing. That they would find salvation. Or maybe, saving someone.”
“what did they find?”
“Death. Nothing else but that.” The man takes a sip of the juice. He clears his throat.
The man resumes. “Months later, Reiner was killed by Jean Kirschtein.”
“Wasn’t it Eren who killed him?”
“It was Jean Kirschtein. The textbooks lied. As I said, those historians knew nothing.”
“How did he die?”
The man swallows his own saliva. He takes a deep breath. Dread is present in his eyes.
“One day, Reiner and Bertholdt were captured by the Survey Corps. And some of the people in that were their friends from way back. During the time of their capture, all of the another titans were already decimated. So, they were the only two left in the world.”
I speak no words. My logic questions: should I believe what he’s telling me?
The man goes on. “Corporal Levi Ackerman asked them of what they wanted to do. Since the order they got was clear — to eliminate all living titans.”
“What did they do?”
“No one did anything. Until Jean stepped out with a gun in his hand. He loaded the bullets and cocked it. He aimed at Bertholdt first but—”
The man pauses.
“He changes his mind. He diverts to Reiner instead. Jean was crying. Tears of rage, you know. He said this:
“Bertholdt, I will make you feel the pain that I’ve felt. You and him killed Marco. Do you know what it feels like to have someone that I loved the most taken away? I guess you’ll find out now.”
“And just that, he-” The man pauses. “He—” He pauses again. I can see tears forming in his eyes.
“—shot Reiner. Right in his head. Blood splattered on Bertholdt’s face. He screamed. Jean almost shot Bertholdt as well.”
Tears ran down his cheeks. The man quickly wipes them away.
“I get emotional when telling this story. Every damn time.” The man chuckles, but it ain’t a happy one.
“What happened next?” I question the man.
“Well, they left Bertholdt right where Jean executed Reiner. Imagine that. A man losing the person he cared so much. A man who he built many memories with. And with a bullet—it’s gone in an instant.”
“Why didn’t they kill Bertholdt, though?”
“He couldn’t die, that’s why. They knew he couldn’t. He’s immortal and could regenerate.”
“My God...”
“Nights after nights. He was there with Reiner’s lifeless body. He watched as the animals came and ate Reiner. After that, he was alone. He had nowhere to go. So, he got up and walked. Just walked and walked...miles after miles without a clear destination.”
The man drinks the juice. All of it. The glass is now empty. He wipes his mouth.
“Anything else after that?” I ask.
“Some conspiracy theorists said he’s still out there in the world. Just living and trying to survive. Govts would want him since he’s basically the last one of his kind.”
“But do you believe he’s out there?”
“I do. Simply because I met him once. But it was a long time ago. When he finished telling the story, he told me this:
“Death. That’s one thing I’ll never get to experience. I wish for it, you know. How can a man endures thousands and thousands of years of loneliness?”
“And that’s it. I’ve never met him again. He just left, you know. Came into my house during the night. Almost called the cops.”
“I’m....I don’t know what to say.” My brain tells me: maybe it’s true. Maybe you can believe in what he just told you.
“It’s okay. Sorry for telling such story like this on a beautiful night.” The man looks at the plate, still full with food. “What a shame. I can’t finish it. How much is it?”
“12 credits, sir.” I reply.
The man pays with his card. I take it and taps on the card scanner located on the counter. I return the card to him. He thanks me. The man gets up. He straightens his suit.
“Thanks for a wonderful meal. Send my compliments to the chef.” The man says.
“I will.”
I watch, as the man walks to the front door. As he’s pulling the door wide open, I say to him — “I like the story.”
The man stops. He turns, with a smirk. “I’m glad you like it.”
The thunder roars. Rain starts to fall down. Everyone who’s outside rushes to find cover.
“Hey, sir, can I ask one thing?”
“Sure.”
“What’s your name, if I may ask.”
“Why should I tell?” The man gazes at me with an intense stare.
He’s gone quiet.
Then, he switches to soft eyes. He smiles and laughs. “I’m just kidding. I already told you.”
“What do you mean?”
“What’s the first name you heard in the story?” He says.
“Bertholdt Hoover.” I reply.
“Then you’ve got your answer.” The man smiles back and leaves.
I watch as he walks further and further away from the diner until he leaves my line of sight. I stand there, pondering what he just said.
A train of thought hits me. My brain just tells me of a revelation.
My eyes widen. I gasp.
My brain shouts right back at me: and now you know.
And now I know, indeed.