Lemuria: The City of Mysts

Chapter 17: A Gift for a Stranger

Chapter 17: A Gift for a Stranger

The splash of water ran down his face. It was just a coincidence, Fred tried to convince himself. Speaking about the past with James must have done it. No. Returning to the Mysts had been a bad idea. He was connecting two different things because of a picture of a stag in a forest. Anyone who has a vivid imagination with a matching talent could paint a stag in a forest.

The eyes that stared back in the mirror saw only the painting. The animal resembled Electra’s forest friend too much. There has to be an explanation. It has to or he would go mad.

Fred wiped his face with tissue and stepped out of the restroom. His chauffeur pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning on. Tony had been waiting, his concern visible and genuine.

An unspoken question passed between them.

His shoulders shook in silent laughter. He felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff. Another step and he would fall to insanity. His mom was aware of his secretive nature. She had warned him that some secrets have a way of eating you up until nothing is left. The only cure was for the truth to come out. Fred had lost something precious when Electra had unwittingly bound him to an oath of secrecy.

The chauffeur grew more agitated with his client’s behaviour.

“I’m sorry”, Fred said, pulling a straight face. “I should’ve warned you about my mild phobia with enclosed spaces.”

Tony accepted though not wholly convinced with Fred’s lame excuse. The man looked completely spooked by one harmless painting. But the lie had been said, closing the subject before it even started.

Still numb with shock, Fred made a beeline towards the exit. Mr. Thomson, however, blocked him. Transactions and arrangements had to be made for the purchase of the paintings. Fred could see the man mouthing the words but failed to understand what was being said. His face blank, the chauffeur came to his aid.

“Are you still buying the paintings, sir?” Tony asked.

“Yes”, Fred managed to say.

Yep. He’s totally out of it, Tony thought. The lack of reaction to being addressed as ‘sir’ proved it. To the agent, he said: “Mr. Thomson, would you make an exemption for my friend by reserving the paintings he wanted? He’ll be back tomorrow to finalise everything.”

The middle-aged man looked from one to the other. Tony’s companion was visibly paler after returning from the studio. He nodded and let them through.

Fred was back in the park. It wasn’t his intention to return to the area so soon, but he had to strengthen his alibi. He had noticed that Tony doubted that he suffered from claustrophobia. The park seemed the best place – being nearer than the hotel. He could get some peace here as long as people continued to ignore him. Fred strolled through the park and admired its gardens until he found an empty bench. He sat and found it the perfect spot to relax. It shaded him from the mid-afternoon sun and offered a view of the cloudless blue sky.

The weather didn’t help lift the black mood Fred was in. It was unfair that the world looked so right when gales of wind were battering him inside. What was he looking for? Sympathy was the last thing he wanted. There had been too much of that for years.

The bench underneath him shifted as it took on another weight. From the corner of his eye, Fred saw he was no longer alone. The person deposited her bag between them. He closed his eyes, making it obvious he wasn’t interested in making short talk. The afternoon was quiet, save for the pencil scratching against paper. Fred listened to it for some time, finding comfort in something so trivial. When a gust of wind blew past him, carrying a familiar scent, he couldn’t help peek at the person sharing his seat.