The Meaning of Happiness

I stared at him in disbelief. There is no way it was once his father's. And even if it was, why would he sell it? Or did he just give it away which then ended up in a second-hand shop?

"It can't be. My parents gave this to me." I tried to convince him but I wasn't as sure as I thought I was. "Besides, this is an old watch. I don't think your father would wear anything that was used before unless it's an heirloom.

"Why, yours isn't?" He asked involuntarily and I saw in his expression that he regretted it immediately.

"Of course not. An average person cannot afford to buy designer watches, you know. Unless they're really wealthy." I saw on his face that he already realized this but I said it out loud anyway. I didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable or anything but couldn't help it.

He seemed to be thinking about something for a while, then suddenly grabbed my arm without a warning and took a closer look at my watch. He looked at it from every angle. He even took it off and looked at its backside as well. I don't know what he was looking for that intensely but I wished he would just stop.

The moment his fingers touched the skin on my arm I became nervous and felt uneasy. I won't pretend like I don't know why.

"What is it?" I asked instead, to distract myself, while trying to make my voice sound calm.

"I just wanted to see if I was wrong."

"And were you?"

"No. It even has his name engraved on it."

I didn't believe him at first. I couldn't remember anything like this being engraved on it but then again, I didn't take my time looking at it. I took the watch from him and after confirming that what he said was true, I put it back on.

I didn't look up but I felt like his eyes were following the movement of my fingers as I fastened its straps on my wrist.

"Now what?" I tried to sound casual, I even put my hands in my pockets but I still had some lingering unease within me.

"As I said, we should read these." He pointed at the stack of books before us. "You read half of it, I read the other half. If either of us finds anything that might be useful, we take notes." The way he said it, felt like a beginning of an adventure rather than my life being turned upside down. I rolled down my sleeves and turned to the table again.

While buttoning the sleeve of my shirt, I looked at the books before me, trying to figure out which ones were at least mildly interesting. If I were to read hundreds of pages, I have to enjoy it at least.

I suddenly felt a sense of guilt. He took the time and effort to visit a library, select books, and take them out just for me. Perhaps, he didn't have to carry them but at least he is going to read some of them which is already a big help. I don't know what made him change his mind and made him believe me. He could have accused me of stealing the watch from his father, even though, mine looks old and used, while I bet his father's look brand new.

I picked up exactly half of the books. Not more, not less. Before leaving, I wondered if I should say it but then I made up my mind to do so.

"Don't worry. I'll find you the best assistant there is."

I looked back from the doorstep one last time and saw him picking up one book after another as if he was just in the middle of deciding what to read. As I have already noticed before, he looked somewhat lonely and a bit unhappy for some reason. He could have everything he wanted, even an employee at his beck and call, even though, he isn't even working yet. But still, he is just... unhappy.

I closed the door behind me carefully, not wanting to make a noise and when I turned to go to my room, I felt my soul leave my body at the sight of his father standing a few feet away from me. I didn't see him coming, he was just suddenly there out of nowhere which made me feel like I was in a cheap horror movie.

"He... The young master lent me some of his books to read in my free time." I told him nervously while praying that he believed my excuse.

"I don't think a personal assistant has that much free time," he said matter-of-factly and looked at the books in my hands.

Great. I haven't even been working here for that long and now I'm called a bad workforce. Even if indirectly, it still counts.

"You are right, sir," I agreed automatically.

I felt it a bit rude to just leave him there, so I stood there and waited. At last, he decided to say something after all.

"Do you think he is happy?"

"Beg your pardon, sir?" I asked stunned, having no idea what got into him all of a sudden. Could he have also seen that sad expression in his son's eyes? Then why is he asking me and not him about it?

"Of course, I hope he is, but I cannot be sure about that. His mother died when he was little and I am always working to be able to give him everything he needs."

The way he said this, it sounded as if he was working in a mine every day just to put food on the table.

"I see."

"Sometimes I wonder whether I am a good father to him at all. I try my best to do what is best for him. But I just...

"Perhaps, you should talk to him, sir," I told him and regretted it immediately. If he decides to take my advice and open his door, he'll see a black cat lying casually in one of the corners of his son's room and only hell knows what he is gonna do after that.

Fortunately, he decided not to and just walked away instead. I just stared at his disappearing shadow and after he was no longer to be seen, I went into my room quickly, dropped the books on the desk, and almost ripped off my shirt in my struggle to get that damned watch off me. When I finally managed to do so, I just looked at it for minutes and wondered how such an innocent-looking device could cause so much harm. I wanted my old life back with my average salary, small apartment, and average life instead of this seemingly comfortable yet hard one. Still, something kept me from adjusting the time on the watch in an attempt to go back to my time. I convinced myself that it was because I was afraid that I would do something wrong and end up somewhere way worse since I didn't even know the theory behind how this works. Maybe somewhere far into the future? Or quite the opposite, when my great grandparents were born, for example?

I don't know what the meaning of happiness is and I neither do know why I didn't tell his father that I believe he is unhappy but there's one thing I do know. There must be a reason why he feels like that and I somehow doubt the reason is that he grew up without a mother. Perhaps, it's his loneliness that defines him.

I slapped myself hard across the face for thinking this. No one should be defined by such a negative characteristic. He deserves to be happy just like any of us.