Northern Downpour

The Open Gates (X.I)

X

It took them a while to get to their room, a mere 30 seconds of which no one was really aware. The door was closed, barely. The smell was great! It made Micael’s knees weak and helpless, like how exactly a lamb would act in a situation before it was caught. It was really delicious as if it was already tasted, as what you smell is what you, somehow, really would taste. While still outside, Micael was hearing some murmurs in their room.

It was faint, and yet he managed to hear it. Something irrelevant? No one really knew, for it was silent and deafening.  Either way, Micael grabbed the doorknob and looked at his father: “After you, I must say.” He opened the door, slowly and gracefully, as if it was a grand entrance inside a big, great auditorium hall. He never had the chance to take a preliminary glimpse on the room as his father was so big, which had blocked even his peripheral. Quite embarrassed, but not so as he remembered that time was somehow irrelevant, and important at the same time, as any time spent would be just the same as time wasted. His father had passed by him, and so did his thoughts.

He saw his mother, carrying the lamb into the table with precarious posture. She was quite clumsy but still trying. He saw the table. It was clean, very clean and with candles alight. There were five seats. No. There were six. It was basically like two family dinner, as one would have predicted, and it would be one. Thirds of the seats were occupied. The faces of the latter were not really clear for Micael, as they were in his very peripheral. He finally decided to enter the room. Cleaned his boat shoes with the rug on the door entrance, and he went on.

“Oh, Micael! Come on. Have a seat,” said his mother, and Micael seated on a seat where his mother was genuinely pointing at. Yes. Genuinely. “Mother is really clumsy, huh?” Asked Micael to his father, where his father only enunciated silence together with a smile. “Anyhow, Micael, I would like to meet our company.” Micael was surprised. He was not really expecting that a family of three would really be joining them in their dinner, and he was really shocked by the fact that his parents knew such family of theirs. It looked like they were a really fancy family, indeed. They wore sophisticated wearing, very abide-by postures, and looks of which was from elite politicians back their time. They were serious, and yet Micael had found someone lucky inside of their influences. The old man’s face was familiar.

Very familiar.

Gray slicky hair, a gray-to-white mustache, the noticeable jawline and quite of a look. It was very that of their school’s principal. “Micael, I would like you to meet Mr. Harry. He is your school principal’s older brother and a very close friend of mine,” his father uttered, as it turned to be the brother of his principal, making his mere but educated guests far from incorrect. Mr. Harry was a lawyer back then, too. He used to file lawsuits against some of the most renowned lawbreakers that time, however bad the outcome had become.

It was tense, as Micael would not had thought of any circumstance wherein he would meet someone more far than just the principal’s very relative, let alone his brother. “Anyhow, this is his wife, son. Mrs. Elise,” his father followed, following a quite wince behind his back, what seemed to be later noticed by Micael, and laughed inside his head, too. Elise looked so, normal? Meh, it really depended on how Micael would define what being normal really is. But all Micael knew that time was that ‘twas night which might turn into a romantic one, at most. And all he could thought of is their daughter, who was not yet inside the room.

Going back. White dress, elegant bag and a fedora? Very much of a common attire for such an elegant lady, but everyone, of course, wanted to be involved nonetheless. She was beautiful. She really was. But there were so much than just that. Micael gave himself a budge, and talked: “I beg your pardon, but my father said there’s going to be three of you. And I hope you won’t mind if I ask.” Mr. Harry removed his hat, placed it on his lap, and replied without any mere hesitation, or discrepancies at all: “You mean my daughter, Amelia? Oh, she is coming, my boy. One must prepare herself for a lad like you.” Micael was astonished. He could not even believe what had been just said, but for all he knew is that it would the night.

Oh. Nice. Better be reading this ‘You’re Fortunate…’ thing that my father gave me.

The door’s hinges squeaked, and so did the attention of everyone in the room. It moved elegantly, with grace behind its dingy wood-like appearance, and elegance followed. It was the daughter of Mr. Harry and Elise. It was Amelia. She was wearing a simple outfit. She was stunning, at least for Micael. She was blonde, she had a very nice blue-colored eyes, she wore a very simple ready-to-sleep outfit but she still managed to drop something out of the ordinary, and then she finally found her comfortable place on the room.

“Speaking of our beloved daughter, there she is,” said Mr. Harry while looking straight at his daughter. Without any mere palaver, Mr. Harry talked once more: “Micael, I would like you to be known to my daughter, Amelia. Amelia Peeks. But you can call her Amy.” Micael, as all boys would do, quickly got up unto his buttocks and handed his hand to Amy, and offered her a seat beside him as well. Amy never really responded, but she smiled. He accepted Micael’s hand and shook it, and from there she seated on a seat beside Micael’s, and Micael’s mother finally handed them all of the food whilst talking: “Stop dallying around, my friends, as the table is now completely set!” she sounded happy, and she really was happy. On the table were the cooked lamb, steam vegetables, omelet, and freshly baked scones that was one of his mother’s favorite food to bake, and rest around them were seated in a circle, and they proceeded gracefully.

...