The Attic

Chapter 3 - Rival

Day: Two

Date:  February 29, 2012

Time:  Unknown (Probably morning)

                The events from yesterday kept me awake for hours and the sole reason for why I was able to sleep was that I didn’t have the strength to keep my eyes open anymore, and not because I was drowsy.

                I’m not sure if I did get any rest at all; it seemed only several minutes ago when my eyelids gave up and almost at the same time learned that the earliest of the sun’s golden fingers have found their way through my window.

                Today was the blessing of my house, and I checked my watch only to discover that I didn’t have the right to stay in bed, for in less than three hours, the guests would swarm and it would be a great shame for the host himself to be unpunctual.

                I managed to escape the gravitational pull of my bed, tossing the blanket onto the side to trick myself that I wasn’t sleepy. Getting late for something was always a good countermeasure against the bed’s offer of more shuteye. A few moments after stepping under the shower which awakened my senses only partially, the ones in charge of catering services pulled over some distance away from the reception area. Eager to get things done, I immediately had them place the food I ordered on the tables, as well as arrange the plates onto their respective places. As they did their job, which they did without me hearing a single complaint at my bossiness (I just stood and watched as they put everything in place), my eyes caught sight of something peculiar about the place I bought. I intentionally made for them to come not too early to keep the food as fresh as possible, just in case.

                I traced the height of my house from ground level to the roof’s apex and adjusted my line of sight a few notches down when I found a small window which was round in shape and had intersecting planks as grilles. Puzzled as to which room in my house the window belonged to, I realized that I’ve never peeked through the circular hole for I’d already been to every corner of my home.

                Or have I?

                The workers who did the restorations weren’t invited, and I didn’t have a single contact on any one of them except an engineer whom I employed for his opinion whether the house was still in good condition or the weakest quake would tear the seemingly decades-old building to the ground, which I wouldn’t want because I bought the property for the house and not the lot. I wanted to make sure that my house wouldn’t be reduced into rubble in less than a year after I occupied it, so I had the engineer tell me where bracing was necessary. Almost immediately, I grabbed my cell out of my pocket and hunted his number in the endless list of names in my phonebook. His phone must have rang for more than a minute before he picked it up.

                “Hello?”

                I cleared my throat, failing to suppress the cough I produced over the line, “Good day sir. Are you busy today?”

                “Ah, no, why? Is everything okay?”

                “Everything’s fine. I was wondering if you could come here, actually. I’m going to have my house blessed in about an hour. I have a question I’d like to ask you too about my house.”

                “What’s that?”

                “It’s something I’d prefer to ask you personally. I think you’ll have to be here and see for yourself. But please, if you can manage, I’d love to have you join us later in the blessing,” I persuaded.