Plantaesapien: An Unlikely Beggining

Chapter 3

I look back and forth between the two men, my eyes practically pleading with them to start talking to me.

Mr Costello cleared his throat, "Ah, Daniel. . .perhaps you could go into the kitchen and make us some tea?"

My eyes flicked back to Danny as he turned away from me. I watched him disappear into the kitchen.

I stayed by the edge of the stairs, curled up into a ball gripping at the struts. My eyes flicked back to Mr Costello.

He held out his hand, much like he did when I was younger, "Why don't we go some place more comfortable?"

Gingerly, as though I were a deer foal taking its first steps, I got up. I reached out for his hand and took it cautiously. This whole situation is weird and I am feeling incredibly uncomfortable right now.

I shuffled behind while Mr Costello lead the way to the lounge room. I internally scoffed when I realized where he had taken me to. This had to be the least comfortable room in this place. 

The room was antique; filled with varying shades of brown with the occasional smattering of moss green or oxide red. Two brown leather lounges that faced eachother, divided by a solid mahogany coffee table. Running the length of the room were bookshelves that stood floor to ceiling in place of a wall. The books that covered the shelves were mostly leather bound, some falling apart in their age. Intricate details glittered along the spines of the books. I think Mr Costello believes the books will perish the moment our grimy little hands get to them and so these books were not to be touched. At each end of the lounge was a single mahogany desk, made similarly in design to the coffee table. I don't think I've ever actually seen this room used as a lounge space. More often then not it's used as a study by Mr Costello himself. The rest of us rarely use the space as it feels like all happiness is drained out the moment you walk in.

I sat down across from Mr Costello, biting nervously at my nails.

The sound of the kettle whistling could be heard in the background while he rubbed his hands together. I could practically hear the cogs turning in his brain as he tried to think of where to start.

I crossed my leg over the other and wrapped my arm around my stomach, crouching in on myself as if trying to protect myself from the blow of what he might say.

"So how long exactly had you been standing there?"

"Not long." I replied while chewing away at a nail, struggling to look him in the face.

He nodded absently, looking at his clasped hands.

Danny rounded the corner with a tray in his hands, a pot of tea, cups and biscuits balanced on top. He laid the tray between us on the coffee table and took a step back, awkwardly looking back and forth between the two of us.

I could see he wanted to say something but he seemed to think better of it and instead leant up against the door frame to my left, folding his arms infront of himself.

Mr Costello cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him.

He began almost gingerly, like he was carefully planning out each word as he spoke, "I've been battling with myself over whether or not I should have this conversation with you for a long time. And, if it weren't for earlier, I wouldn't have told you till you were much older."

I let out a shaky breath.

Mr Costello paused for a moment and gave a side eye to Daniel. As if on cue, he jumped forward from his position against the door frame and poured out the tea, placing a cup in front of Mr Costello and handing one to me. I gave a small smile as I took the cup.

He continued, "Not everything has been as it seems. I'm sure you've had some incling by now with those nightmares of yours. . ."

I nodded, acknowledging what he said, though I can't say I really understood him. He was being so vague.

"There's more to the story of your mother then what you know. . . but I want to warn you now, this is going to be alot of information."

I looked at Danny, who was leaning back against the door frame, hoping for some kind of reassurance but his gaze was focused on a spot on the ground.

Mr Costello took a deep breath in, "Chino your mother didn't just pass away from heart failure. . . she was murdered."