Vermilion ➳ [Zayn Malik]

[4] The Calm Before The Storm

Wow.  Um, it's been so long, and I really have no one else to blame for that other than myself.  I'm really sorry you guys.  Before reading this chapter, I think it would help if you reread the last chapter if you don't remember much of this story lol.  Or maybe even reread the whole thing, I dunno.  And just a heads up, I've changed Lenna's mother's name to Shireen.  It was Gretta before, but Lenna's mom is Afghani, so I decided Shireen would be more fitting.  So, Lenna is half British (her father is British) and half Afghani, just to clarify things. :)

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The Calm Before The Storm

             THERE IS NO ONE smarter than little kids, Lenna's mother once told her.

           The pair were seated on a wooden bench in the local park, the loud buzz of children's excited screams pleasantly infiltrating their ears. Lenna stopped chewing on her lamb kebab, her gaze leaving a trio of kindergartners wreaking havoc in the sandbox, and settling on her mother. So if you're a big kid, you aren't smart?

             Shireen D'Souza stared into those gray eyes that mirrored her own, big and wide, and shining with quiet inquisition. She was impressed that the deliberate error of her words hadn't slipped past the astonishingly mathematical mind of her seven-year-old daughter. Of course not, darling, she said. Big kids are smart too.

              Yes, big kids were definitely smart. With a height and maturity startlingly beyond her age, her daughter was the perfect example. Shireen laughed, the sound free and halcyon like a river without a dam. How she could have been so foolish to commit such a blunder, even if it was on purpose, escaped her. Let me rephrase that, she said.There is no one smarter than kids, period.

             Lenna smiled, satisfied with her mother's amendment. She turned her attention back toward the sandbox, and her smile grew wider when she saw the boisterous five year-olds whisking sand at each other, their attempts at building a sandcastle left abandoned. I agree, she said simply, and went back to chewing on her kebab, this time fully relishing the zing of the fried meat.

             That was before Shireen's laughter became restrained, and Lenna became vegetarian.

             “. . . now that, that's settled, Lenna, what would you prefer: mutton samosas or chicken biryani? Nadia has cooked both. She wasn't sure what to cook, but, well, since you have some Afghani in your blood, we assumed that you'd want something familiar and––” Frederick D'Souza stops midway his rambling when he sees the poignant stare that lasers off his niece's slate colored eyes.

             Actually, it isn't a stare per se but a cool, blank gaze that is––well––so blank, to the point it's completely disarming.

             “Is there . . .” Frederick clears his throat uncomfortably, “. . . a problem, darling?” He silently curses himself for using the term of endearment. But before he can rectify his careless tongue, the girl in question speaks.

             “Three,” she says.

             Frederick blinks. “Three?”

             “Three.”

             “Three what?” says Frederick stupidly.

             “Three problems,” says Lenna. 

             Frederick blinks again. “Oh.” He coughs. “I see.” He scratches his head, cringing when he feels the flecks of dandruff, roosting on his thinning wisps of gray hair. “Well, why don't we discuss them after dinner? I don't know about you, but I'm quite famished.” He smiles.