Staccato

Weakened By You

~*~

We walk into the great hall together.

A speech is ongoing at the podium. The board of directors of Astral Corp, Tyler Inc, Aster are all sat along as a panel. It is one of the Tyler Inc members who is speaking from the lectern to the crowd sitting before him around pretty silk-draped tables with varying degrees of either engrossment or boredom.

No sooner have we walked a few steps into the glittery yellow hall, than Brian Tyler's icy blue eyes fix on us from the podium.

The chill of it touches me instantly.

I evade that cold stare quickly, trying not to let it affect me, and maintain an indifferent expression.

But then I see my dad who is sitting to the right side of the panel. He's looking at me with a fond smile; then he winks at me. I give him a quick smile as I walk along the wide aisle of the hall with Efrim, and the bite of that chill abates as I realise that I am nowhere else but in the safety of my home.

I wonder where we'll be sitting. Will we be going back to our families?

But Efrim moves to an empty table, one of the last ones.

He looks at me with silent invitation in his eyes.

Are we really going to be sitting together?

If we are, that means we will be crossing Efrim's dad. I only have to look up to feel a laser-sharp interdiction pierce into me.

The idea of us sitting together, as has been this evening, seems unreal.

Maybe it's just that we don't want to weave our way through the tightly packed crowd and disturb that sophisticated air.

Or maybe it's just that Efrim wants to be with me after what transpired between us under the spell of cold breeze, out in that starlit night, under the embrace of lofty, dry-leaved trees, where we bonded after nine long years.

I follow him to the lonely table at the corner, the impulse to follow him clamping down strongly in me.

The next thing I know, we are sitting next to each other.

His presence is like burning fire next to me. I feel shaken, and my heart hasn't really returned to its normal pace ever since I saw him this evening. And it has been fluttering in timid elation ever since he greeted me in his quiet manner.

And it keeps skipping a beat every time I remember those flashes of images. I want to think about them, I want to analyse minutely the storm in his eyes when those images flashed through my mind, but I just can't seem to focus.

My thoughts are all over the place. I feel scatty, sitting next to him. Him in his dark suit, elegant and poised, him sitting next to me so cool and collected, legs crossed, slacks crisp, a slice of the greys of his socks visible between the hem of the slacks and the gleaming black of his shoes.

He is looking straight ahead, and I think I know who he is looking at so steadily. I think he is returning a certain cold stare, with equally piercing frostiness.

I realise that I am witnessing, in real time, Efrim Tyler openly challenging his dad. After all he did send packing a bunch of Time magazine people his dad had sent to interview him.

Or his 'father', as he keeps calling him. Honestly, who calls their dad 'father' these days?

As for me, I think I might do something stupid, like drop the glass of breezer that I am reaching for. I chug it down, hoping it'd calm my nerves. I think I might embarrass myself horribly at any moment, I think I might choke on the breezer the next instant.