“Awe, relax. You know there’s no one who can be more quiet than us.” I knew he was right, but still...I didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention.
“I just don’t want to rock the boat because I need this to work and you’re not helping.” As I said the words, I knew I needed to relax because the Emersons liked me.
Solomon placed a hand on each of my shoulders, the same way he always reassured me, and said, “My friend, the buzz killer, it’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. This is going to work out, so stop worrying already, would you?”
I knew why I was so anxious and it had nothing to do with the time of Solomon’s arrival. “Well, I’ve already had one kink I didn’t expect and it has me on edge.”
Solomon paused a moment, waiting for my offer of information, before asking, “Okay, what is your kink?”
“There’s a girl living in the house with the Emersons. She’s their granddaughter.”
“And?” he asked and waited for my explanation. When I didn’t respond, he continued, “That is a problem because...why?”
“I don’t know yet because I haven’t met her. I don’t smell anything in the house that would lead me to believe it’s a dangerous situation, but I am incredibly uneasy about this.”
He laughed at me. “You are always worried, unnecessarily. When you accomplish what it is that brought here, you are going to laugh at yourself for ever doubting it was a bad idea, so enjoy your time here because you deserve it.”
He didn’t get it. I needed to explain further. “I know I’m a worrier, but something strange happened the day I met the Emersons and I haven’t been able to shake it.”
I knew he was becoming irritated with me, but I was nervous about telling him how I had lied by omission all of these years, not to mention how I was spooked by a little girl’s portrait. It was a lot of information to offer up. “Just tell me already, Curry, minus the girly drama. What happened?”
“The wife, Mrs. Emerson, is an artist and she invited me into her studio when I interviewed with her.”
Solomon interrupted and said, “Oh, dude, don’t tell me some kind of kinky story that’s going to engrave a graphic image in my mind forever.”
“Shut up and listen, wise guy. I was looking at one of her art pieces. It was a portrait of a little girl on the beach, but I wasn’t just looking, I was studying it. I became mesmerized by it and thought I heard a whisper, so I asked Mrs. Emerson if she said anything. It wasn’t her, so I concluded my imagination was in overdrive and I returned to looking at the painting. I stood there staring into the eyes of the girl and I heard the whisper again and heard exactly what the voice said. I ask that my misplaced heart no longer wanders, lost and wounded, and finds it’s way into the arms that love me.”
Solomon looked at me strangely and said, “You’ve lost me. I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“There’s something I never told you about the day you found me.” I turned my back to Solomon because I couldn’t bear to look at him when I made my confession. “I was moments away from meeting my true death in the sun. I planned the whole thing. I was going to kill myself and seconds before I should have died, my heart made a plea for my lost soul. The words I heard whispered to me were the same words I pleaded as I thought I was going to die.” I turned to gage his reaction to hearing my confession.
“Why didn’t you tell me, you know you can tell me anything? Have we not been as close as brothers all these years?” he questioned and I saw the pain and disappointment in his eyes. I felt shame and could say nothing. He continued, “This could be what saved you that day, instead of Marsala angering the gods or it could be the combination of both. I don’t know, but whatever it was, you have not fulfilled your destiny yet, and there’s more in store for you. I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”
I knew he expected an explanation, but there was only one admission that could be made. “I was too ashamed to tell you.”
“Ashamed of what?” he asked.
It was embarrassing to admit my weakness. “Everything. I was going to kill myself because I was too weak to break free of a woman. I was being controlled by her and I was powerless to do anything about it.”
His frustration was showing more. “You know that was not your fault and I thought you had worked through that and moved on.”
My words fell short of making him understand. “I have moved past it now. My feelings today aren’t the same as they were, but I need you to understand how I felt back then, so you can understand. When I met you, you were so together and I was a complete mess, one that you took on like a charity project. Don’t misunderstand me, I appreciate everything you did for me. You saved me and I love you like a brother for it, but I wanted to be strong enough to save myself.”
I knew he thought I still didn’t get it because I saw it on his face. “Curry, I haven’t always had it together. I was a mess, too, but Sebastian showed me how to save myself and I showed you how to save yourself. You have never been able to see the forest for the trees.”
“Sol, it’s not how I feel today because I did get over it years ago. I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. I was too ashamed to admit my weakness to you when you found me and as time passed, it was never the right time to bring it up. I never thought is was important and I was more than glad to forget about it.”
I saw the understanding in his eyes and he knew I spoke the truth. He was my mentor and I couldn’t lie to him. “I believe you, friend, but these events are signs of what is to come. I don’t have a prediction and the gods don’t intend for us to know right now, so their plan will be revealed in it’s own time.” He started laughing and said, “Since you share a house with this child that has spooked you, I feel certain the plan will include her.” It was just like him to find humor in my situation and take the opportunity to be a comedian.
“She’s not a child,” I explained.
“Now, I’m confused again. I heard you say you were looking at the portrait of a child, one that spooked you I might add.”
“It was a portrait of a child that is now an adult.”
“That does change things. How old is she?”
“I don’t know because I haven’t met her yet. She isn’t home and I only discovered she was living here today.”
“Well, don’t worry yourself. It sounds like there is definitely something to this, but you are powerless to control it if it is the will of the gods.”
I knew he was right and it was out of my hands. With much effort, we could coexist with humans, but that was the extent of it and anything more went against nature’s way. End of story.
We moved the rest of my things inside and he wasted no time leaving me with the mess. He said it was good for me to figure this out, like a human, but he didn’t fool me. I knew he just wanted out of some work.
Evening turned into late night and the hours passed quickly while I put things in their place. I was forced to think and make decisions about where a human would place things and this made it easier to keep my mind off of the girl and the adult she had become.
The basement had no real style, so I was free to make it my own. All the walls were light khaki, making it easier for me to choose masculine colors and the furniture I chose was modern with clean lines. I made the largest room my living area and art studio, where I would spend the majority of my time. My new living room was filled with an oversized dark brown leather sectional and I knew I would never have company to fill the seating, but I liked it.
The smaller room was my new bedroom and I chose bedding in light blue and brown, with the assistance of a salesperson. She called it robin’s egg and chocolate and although the names weren’t masculine, the colors were. It looked inviting and I laid down on my freshly made bed to try it out. I had not enjoyed the comfort of my new bed for long when I heard the sound of a vehicle coming up the drive. It parked on the East side of my bedroom and I knew it was Chansey.
I lay silently while I listened cl
osely. She exited the vehicle, gently shut the car door and walked softly to the back steps as she tiptoed up each one. I heard the click, as her key unlocked the door, and the slow turning of the knob as she opened it. Quiet as a thief in the night, she slowly pushed the door closed and locked it behind her. I couldn’t decide if her stealth like ability was considerate, or sneaky.
She tiptoed down the hall like a graceful ballerina and the next door opened, then closed quietly. I heard her soft footsteps cross the floor directly above the ceiling over my bed, along with a click, the turning of a lamp switch. I recalled the bedside lamp and knew she reached her destination, the bedroom I once called my own.