4. Chapter FourChristian
Chapter Four
Christian
I would have stayed longer under the coolness of the shower if Fiona hadn’t been so diligent at her job.
I slipped out of the shower, dried myself, and wore a robe. Switching on the hair dryer, I dried my hair, and soon it was back to its proper shape, nice and sleek.
Strangely, I had overslept and had not realized the alarm ringing until I received a phone call from Fiona asking me to let her into the house.
My head felt lighter than ever, and my muscles were taut, though I had missed a few days at the gym.
“Would you like tea or coffee?” She asked as soon as I joined her in the living room.
“Tea will do this morning.”
“I have options-”
“Yunnan.”
“What?” She blinked.
“Yunnan. Have you never heard of it before?” I wondered.
Her innocent hazel eyes gazed at me with interest.
“It’s a kind of black tea. It’s pretty good. It’s right in the first cabinet.”
“Oh, okay.” She dropped her iPad and briskly walked towards the kitchen.
Funnily enough, I found her behavior cute.
“Is there any special procedure?” She soon returned to ask, still lost in her innocence.
“No. You can brew it with cold or hot water, but I prefer hot water.” I responded.
She shook her head in affirmation and returned to the kitchen.
“Be careful not to burn your tongue. I think it’s rather too hot.” She winced when I sipped.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“How does it taste?” She queried.
“Just fine. Didn’t you make a cup for yourself?”
“No, I-”
“You are entitled to have a cup of tea.” I let her know.
“Hm.” She gave a nod.
“Shall we leave?”
“Sure.”
Grabbing her purse and my jacket, she led the way, and Liam was already outside waiting for us.
*****
“We can be sure the project will skyrocket with these changes.” Mason was saying when Fiona walked in.
“Sorry to interrupt your conversation, Mr. Carr, but your attention is needed.” She looked somewhat perplexed.
“By whom?”
“Your mother.”
I sighed.
“She wants you to answer her call.” She continued. Glancing at my phone, I saw about seven missed calls from her.
“Alright. Thank you.”
“I’ll leave you be,” Mason said, preparing to leave.
“Fiona, please give the flash drive I gave to you earlier to the President.”
“Sure.” She said, exiting the room.
“I’ll see what I can put in place and get back to you,” Mason said as he followed her.
Then I was left alone. I contemplated picking up my mom’s calls or not. To think of it, I didn’t know what she wanted to say, but I had the palpable feeling that it would be to my detriment.
My mom was a conservative woman, and she was prone to doing things that she thought were best but, to me, was pretty biased. She and Allison often had conflicts regarding many things, but we managed to avoid such conflicts when we could.
My father, on the other hand, was a man who had an unrepentant attitude towards any course that would promote or contribute favorably to his business. So, I tried to veer away from such things, especially since I became CEO.
My mom’s call came in and broke my thoughts. This time, I answered.
“Have you now taken your own mother to be unimportant?” Her cool but authoritative voice could be heard from the other end.
“It’s not so; I was in the middle of a business meeting.”
“Well, I still don’t like to feel left out. You can answer the call when your father isn’t there, can’t you?”
I remained quiet. I had no suitable response to her question.
“Won’t you ask why I called? You really detest speaking with me, huh?” She cried.
“Why did you call?”
“Now you want to hear it, well, I am inviting you to have lunch with us over the weekend, Genevieve’s wedding is on Sunday. We can grace the occasion as a family.”
I knew it had to be because of something so insignificant. Who was Genevieve? I hated this flaunting of wealth she always indulged in.
“Seriously, Mom?”
“What now?”
“Nevermind. I have a busy weekend already.”
“Do you not know Genevieve? Her mother and I are friends; she attended the same kindergarten as you.”
“I don’t care, Mom. I can’t change my schedule for the wedding of someone I don’t even know!”
“Oh.”
“I have to go now.”
I immediately hung up before she introduced her tradition of manipulation.
Fortunately, I was reminded of the art opening I wanted to attend on Saturday. I was to come with a partner sort of or a date, better put. However, I didn’t have one and had not seriously considered it.
From my seat, through the conspicuous door panel, I could see Fiona working undistracted on her computer. Her eyes were sharply fixated on her screen, but when a trespassing tendril of hair flew towards her eyes, she dexterously tucked it behind her ear and went on working.
She was decent enough, but I wouldn’t know if she’d want to be my date. It appeared particularly weird, but that didn’t stop me from approaching her.
“Do you need anything, sir? You should have called.” She frowned.
“No, that’s not it. Actually, I need a favor from you.”
“A favor?”
“Yes.” I breathed in. “You know about the art opening scheduled for this Saturday,”
“Yes, I do.”
“Good, it requires me to come with a date.”
“Okay,” she nodded slowly.
“Basically, I don’t have one, so I’m asking you to fill the void.” I finally hit the nail on the head.
“Oh,” I watched as her face gradually reddened. A woman’s flush.
“I’d be glad if you could be my date.” I thought it wise to say it properly.
“Well, who am I to say no?” She wryly chuckled.
But that was not the response I wanted, and as if she could read my mind, she added softly,
“I will be your date.”
Though I didn’t seek her opinion on what was best per se, I consulted Allison’s stylist, and she put me through it all. I ordered an entire package with a dress and accessories to be delivered to her by the end of the day.
*****
We stood side-by-side with our eyes fixated on a peculiar piece that strangely consisted of a human skull ridiculously adorned with several diamonds.
“ For the Love of Life, Damien Hirst.“ Fiona read aloud.
“For the love of Life, how many diamonds are on that skull?”
“Thousands,” she muttered, turning her head here and there to satisfy her eyes.
“I don’t like paintings,” I murmured and gulped down my glass of wine in frustration.
“I think I know what it’s saying,” she glanced at me, her face glowing softly against the lights. She was pretty, and I was pleased with all I had chosen for her, but one suited her taste and skin color.
Unfortunately, she was not a fan of necklaces, so I had to have the French-customized filigree piece returned to the store.
“What is it saying?”
“Materialism.” Her eyes remained glued on it. “It is decrying the excesses of materialism.” She added insightfully.
“Perhaps,” I wanted to say more, but I was interrupted by the tinkling of wine glasses. The proprietress wanted to give her speech.
After the speech, I formally congratulated her.
“Thank you for honoring my invite.” She beamed a smile.
“It’s my pleasure. Your place is really beautiful.”
“Oh, my.” She chuckled. “Is this your girlfriend?” She was referring to Fiona. “She’s pretty.”
“No-”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Phoebe.” She had not let me finish before she introduced herself to Fiona. I guess she was a little impatient, perhaps out of excitement.
“Nice to meet you, Phoebe, I’m Fiona,” she grinned.
“I hope you are having a good time.”
“Yes, of course. You’ve done a wonderful job here. It’s impressive.”
“Oh, thank you so much. I really appreciate you coming.”
“You’re welcome and-”
“I’m so sorry,” she suddenly gasped. “Excuse me, please. I need to catch up with someone lest he gets spirited away.” She laughed and then disappeared among the numerous guests she had invited from different places across the world.
“Would you like to have another drink?” I asked Fiona.
“Yes, thank you. “
“I’ll be right back.”
By the time I returned, she was already staring at another painting. I could feel the connection between her and the painting from how she gazed upon the artwork. Momentarily, her eyes fluttered, and her lips parted.
“I think you have a predilection for paintings.” I came to stand next to her, handing her a drink.
“Thank you.” She smiled.
“Now, what do we have here?” I attempted to study the brainchild manifested through strokes of brushes before me.
It was a presentation of a personality. My eyes wandered to the bottom ward corner where the title was written.
Leigh Bowery.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
“No.”
“What does it say?” I thought she might have more reasonable feedback for the artist.
“Sheer expression.” She sipped from her glass.
When Fiona eventually snatched her mind from the infatuating magic of Phoebe’s walls of paintings, we could settle in a corner of the large hall far from the inevitable chit-chatting and ridiculous critiquing of many of the guests.
Fiona had brought up the memories of our silly childhood acts, especially those of Allison’s, and we were seriously cracking at them.
“Do you remember her doing that silly impersonation of Mr. Bean?” She said amidst fits of laughter.
“How can I ever forget the great ridicule she made of herself?” I laughed.
“And her silly pranks,”
“They are a zillion...” I chuckled.
“Seriously!” She chortled. “I wish she was here and could watch us make fun of her.”
“Yeah, but I doubt she’d spare us.”
“Not at all.” She smiled. I could see the light bouncing off her round cheeks. I might as well tell her she was cute.
“There was a time you posed as Marilyn Monroe,” she jerked as if she had suddenly remembered after trying so hard.
I wouldn’t agree with that stupid behavior, though I knew and remembered that I had done it.
“I’m certain you did.” She pouted.
“When was that?” I pretentiously asked.
“I think it was during a time on the boat. One of the swimming Saturdays.”
Ah! She really could recollect, but I would never be the one to admit it. It was so awkward and undignified.
“No, that never happened,” I lied to cover up the spontaneous silliness the teen version of myself had irrationally exhibited.
“I don’t agree. You should remember,” she pressed. “ Allison caught a trout that day and,” she paused for a moment. “ It had also rained heavily that morning.”
But I wasn’t still going to admit it.
“Really?” I feigned ignorance.
“Yes, I wonder why you can’t remember it. It was so funny.” She muttered to herself, her lashes fluttering. I found the mere act so cute.
“Are you hungry?” I immediately veered the conversation towards a new direction.
However, sincerely, my stomach was already grumbling for food. We had only had drinks since the gala began.
“Ah, I am, actually-”
“Christian?”
Someone called my name.
Shifting my gaze from Fiona, I was welcomed by a pair of dancing, mischievous eyes. They were the ones I was so familiar with, and they reminded me of quite a number of unpleasant experiences.
Aurora.