As Dusk Descends

The day after their first date, Philip strolled into the café as usual, the bell over the door announcing his arrival. Just like the day before, he was no longer adorned in a crumpled formal suit. His casual yet smart outfit matched his lean physique.

“So you finally decided to stop wearing those crumpled suits?” Mildred greeted him with a teasing grin.

Philip chuckled, running a hand through his neatly combed hair. “Well, I didn’t care much about my appearance before… but if there’s a particular someone I want to look good for, why not?”

A moment later, he continued, his cheeks tinged with a blush. “Can I try to look good for you?”

Mildred laughed out loud. “Why not?”

Seeing her response, his face brightened. “So,” he began, his voice filled with a hopeful lilt, “When are you free next? Could we… maybe have another date then?”

Her reply was instant. “I’m free on Fridays and Saturdays.” She added, giving him a wink, “Oh, and my shift ends at 11, for your information.”

Philip whispered with a smile, as he glanced at another customer coming in behind him. “Let’s continue our discussion via text.”

And so their dating continued. Once, twice, and then many more times after. Thus blossomed a romance with Philip Jenkins.

* * *

About three months into their relationship, Mildred found herself comfortably settled at a small table in Philip’s kitchen. He was skillfully preparing fried rice, stirring the sizzling mixture with an ease that came from practice. As she watched him, she absently swung around a necklace with her fingers. It was a gift from Philip — a pretty piece adorned with a rich red stone centrepiece and tiny stones that sparkled even in the muted light.

At some point, frequent invitations to Philip’s flat had become the norm for them. He was an unexpectedly good cook, and he seemed to relish in the delight he saw on Mildred’s face whenever he placed a dish in front of her. Spending time at his home was a welcome escape from the cramped flat she shared with her two flatmates.

Still twirling the necklace idly, she questioned, “Is this a real jewel? Isn’t it expensive?”

“Yes, it’s garnet. It’s said to shine even at night. Seemed fitting, given our late meetings,” Philip replied, his eyes were fixed on the pan, yet his words conveyed smug satisfaction.

“Because of your peculiar post-sunset schedule,” she mumbled. For some reason, his availability was mostly limited to after sunset, and his daytime communication was often sporadic. His explanations for this pattern were vague and inconsistent, making them difficult to accept.

Her attention shifted to the tiny, colourless stones embedded next to the garnet. “And are these real diamonds?”

“The jewel I chose for you is garnet, Mildred. It doesn’t matter if small decorations are diamonds or not,” Philip grumbled, disappointed that his symbolic choice had gone unnoticed.

Mildred persisted, “So they’re real then?”

He sighed. “Yes, they are. But little bits are not expensive, so no need to worry.” He paused for a moment, a smirk playing on his lips as he added, “Or, maybe, does it disappoint you?”

“Hey, I was just curious about the price,” she retorted.

“Isn’t it a bit rude to ask about the price of a present?” Philip shrugged playfully. “To be honest, I don’t even remember.”

Indeed, his present giving was a recurring event. They were always high-quality, and some were even luxuriously expensive. In just a month and a half of dating, he had given her presents worth more than her monthly earnings. She had been taken aback, but as it became clear he expected nothing in return and was not hinting at marriage, she came to accept them graciously. Philip simply seemed to enjoy her happiness, and Mildred wasn’t one to turn down freebies.

“But are you sure it’s okay to give me these pricey gifts so often?” Mildred probed, her tone hesitant. “I mean, I know we’ve already talked about it, but I still worry.”

He chuckled, “I earn enough for a young barista not to worry.”

“Well, quite,” Mildred agreed nonchalantly, her eyes drifting around Philip’s flat. A one-bedroom flat, located near the café where she worked. It couldn’t be said to be overly spacious, but it was never cramped — that’s the point. In London, a residence that did not compromise on basic living standards was a privilege.

Mildred, deciding to halt her string of queries, quietly slipped the necklace around her neck. Tugging lightly on the chain to adjust the pendant, she asked, “How do I look?”

Philip, who had just finished garnishing the fried rice on the plate, turned his head and his face instantly lit up. “You look beautiful, Mildred.” Then he announced cheerfully, “And dinner’s ready!” He carried a steaming plate of fried rice to the table.

As he placed it before her, Mildred noticed that he hadn’t brought any food for himself. Again. In fact, it seemed she had rarely seen him eat unless she explicitly invited him to do so, or scooped him a serving. What was he playing at?

Noticing her gaze, Philip offered a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not particularly hungry.”

“What do you usually eat, Philip?” Mildred asked. “You can’t possibly survive on the few bites you take when we’re together. Are you enjoying some secret dish that I can’t see?”

Philip shrugged nonchalantly, pulling out the chair across from her to sit. “Ironically, I don’t actually eat what I cook.”

“But… didn’t you say you love cooking?”

“Yes, I do,” Philip admitted. “But have you ever tried to cook while you’re starving? It’s quite tedious. However, watching someone else enjoy the food I’ve prepared? That’s a real pleasure. It’s part of why I appreciate our relationship so much. I hadn’t had that opportunity before.”

His response left her in quiet contemplation for a moment before she recalled something peculiar. She asked, “Was that why your kitchen was so bare when I first came here? No cooking utensils, no fridge, not even a mug. I almost thought I’d walked into some romance novel hero’s desolate apartment. You know, the kind of place that doesn’t even seem lived-in.” She giggled.

At her words, Philip seemed to flinch slightly, his grin becoming strained. “Ah, well, as I’ve mentioned before, my place was under renovation at that time.”

While Mildred couldn’t make sense of what kind of renovation would rid even the cups from a home, she decided to let it pass.

“Anyway,” she continued, “if you don’t eat what you cook, what do you actually eat?”

Philip rolled his eyes, giving her an unconvincing answer. “Protein bars, mostly.”

“Protein bars, huh?” Mildred looked him up and down, her gaze landing on his forearm, lean but not muscular. She smirked, “Somehow, I’m not convinced.”

Philip immediately pouted at her response. “Hey, I’m a scholar. You can’t expect me to be all muscle. That’s asking too much.”

“Are you a scholar? I didn’t know.” She blinked.

Caught slightly off guard, Philip responded, “Well, if not, what do you think all this is about?” he gestured widely around his home.

Her mind followed his gesture. Sure, his bedroom-library was filled with strange, occult books, and the cabinets in his tidy living room housed equally bizarre collectibles. But what did that prove?

“Yes, it seems very scholarly,” Mildred commented sarcastically.

“Magic is a legitimate academic discipline,” he defended, blushing slightly. “And I even have a PhD in Magic. So, I can certainly call myself a scholar.”

“Seriously, Philip? A PhD in Magic?” Mildred chuckled, scooping rice onto her spoon. “I was barely convinced by your claim that you were a freelance sorcerer. But a Hogwarts graduate? A bit too much to believe.”

“It’s definitely not a joke!” Philip protested. “Of course there is no Hogwarts. We undergo formal education at universities.”

“You really expect me to believe that magic is an academic field?” Mildred immediately pulled out her phone and began searching. To her surprise, she found that several old universities indeed had departments dedicated to the study of magic. Sighing, she chuckled. “OK, you won.”

“I told you so,” Philip grumbled, looking slightly deflated. Noticing Philip’s sulky expression, Mildred decided it was time to switch gears.

“Alright, alright, I’ll quit the teasing,” she conceded, waving a hand dismissively as she took another spoonful of rice. “You know, we both know looks aren’t everything. It was quite impressive you lifted that entire double bed — frame and mattress together. I never thought you were a weakling.”

At her words, Philip’s face instantly lit up in a triumphant grin. “Well, I do have my moments.”

“Want to see something else impressive? Watch this,” Caught up in confidence, Philip decided to take his chance. He quickly sprang to his feet and rushed over to the stove, grabbing the pan with the leftover fried rice.

Mildred watched, wide-eyed, as Philip sent the rice soaring into the air with a swift upward motion. Flames danced above the pan. It was a rather impressive spectacle. That was, until the rice swished perfectly into the sink, entirely missing the pan. His face instantly turned bright red.

“That was a great performance,” Mildred tried to find something to compliment, “of… throwing leftovers out.”

“Yes, of course that was my intent.” His limp voice made it hard to tell whether he was speaking sarcastically or really pretending he had intended it.

At that point, Mildred burst out laughing uncontrollably. Philip exclaimed, still blushing. “That wasn’t supposed to happen!”

As she watched Philip’s antics, she couldn’t help but consider the peculiar man before her.

Initially, he had seemed a somewhat brooding figure, until she initiated a conversation with him at the café. He also had been very cautious in the early stages of dating. But as they grew closer, Philip had revealed a side of him that was cheerful, playful, and even childish at times. He was easily elated, easily discouraged, and sometimes annoyingly stubborn. When conversations veered towards topics he seemed uncomfortable with, he’d attempt to change the subject with almost comically poor skills.

He might have been a bit awkward for a man apparently over thirty, and he had his fair share of moments where he was insufferable as a boyfriend. Yet, in a way, it was this mix of charm and annoyance that kept her hooked.

As her laughter had died down with the passing thought, she decided to comfort him. “The fried rice was delicious, Philip. Even without the dramatic show.”

Philip calmed down a bit, the compliment easing his frustration. With a sheepish smile, he admitted, “You know, it probably would have tasted even better with some garlic. But, alas, I’m allergic.”

He chuckled, a playful twinkle in his eyes as he added, “And considering the… umm, series of events that usually follow our dinners, it’s probably best we skip the garlic for practical reasons, anyway.”

Mildred giggled at his euphemism. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a shared anticipation of the intimate moments that often followed their meals together.

Deciding to shift the focus away from the botched performance, Mildred quickly scooped up the last bit of fried rice and took a sip of water to cleanse her palate. Sliding closer to Philip, she placed a gentle kiss on his lips, a intimate gesture meant to comfort him. “Let’s forget about the fried rice,” she whispered against his lips.

Philip’s response was a soft hum of agreement, his attention now solely on her. As they kissed, Mildred was reminded once again of the unique charm that was Philip – his slightly elongated canine teeth, a detail only someone who had kissed him would know.

* * *

After their tender moment had ended, Philip saw Mildred home. He bade her goodnight, and then he was gone, swallowed by the shadow of the city.

Once inside her room, Mildred fell onto her bed and gazed at the ceiling in contemplation. Philip’s revelation about his PhD in Magic had left her curious.

Despite their three-month relationship, Philip was still very much a mystery to her. She didn’t even know his exact age yet. She had been waiting for him to share that information, but it seemed he wasn’t going to reveal it until pushed.

Doctoral dissertations were public knowledge. Mildred could probably dig into his academic career and learn more about him. Lying comfortably on the bed, she picked up her phone and began to delve into the online academic databases. Search: Philip Jenkins.

To her disappointment, or perhaps to further pique her interest, she could find no recent dissertations under his name. The only publication she could find was one by a Philip Jenkins from decades ago.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t even a direct match. The first and last names were identical, but the author of this old dissertation had published under his middle name, not his first. Well, to be fair, Mildred didn’t know Philip’s middle name.

Despite the publication date, the discovery led her down a far-fetched idea: What if Philip was an ageless sorcerer, having achieved immortality through magical means? If he was in fact as old as her grandfather, his reluctance to reveal his age would make sense.

However, she quickly discarded this theory when she found a Wikipedia article stating the older Jenkins had passed away over thirty years ago.

The only plausible explanation seemed to be that Philip was exaggerating his academic achievements. Had he dropped out of a postgraduate course? At least, his fascination with magic and his pride as a scholar didn’t seem to be a lie. Maybe he embellished his status to impress her, or to convince himself. It seemed a very Philip thing to do.

Although, confronting him felt unnecessarily cruel. Mildred didn’t want to inject discomfort into their relationship by pointing out his bravado. After all, she already knew he was a bit of a pretentious fool.

The harvest of information was smaller than anticipated, yet she was satisfied. She had learned a little secret about her elusive boyfriend. She decided it was time to sleep, to lay down the questions and revelations of the night and embrace the calm oblivion of rest.

As her eyelids grew heavy, a wild idea flickered through her mind. What if Philip was really the late Philip Jenkins – though he wasn’t even known as ‘Philip’ Jenkins, strictly speaking? His peculiar post-sunset schedule, his lack of eating, his slightly elongated canines, and his allergy to garlic…

It was a ludicrous thought. Yet she couldn’t help but imagine, if she were to point out his academic falsification, Philip would likely start claiming he was a vampire as a way to refute it. It was just so… Philip. A soft chuckle escaped at the absurdity of it all.

A smile lingered on her lips as Mildred finally succumbed to sleep, the wild imaginings of the night fading away into the tranquillity of dreams.