~*~
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.
I am kind of surprised when I place the glass back down, having gotten through it quite uneventfully. I remember spectacularly breaking that burette in school and am gratified nothing of the sort has happened here with the delicate glassware sitting on our table.
I turn my face slightly and catch the sight of his beautifully sharp, dignified profile, and a sense of giddy, panicky smugness flutters through me.
Once again, it's counterintuitive. Giddy, panicky smugness.
But I have noticed enough by now how everything that's got to do with Efrim is usually just that. Counterintuitive.
My siblings, and all of my friends from school- Jake, Quinn, Alex, Josh - had unerringly caught us entering, and all of them look shocked. Laurie is looking at me with wide, popping eyes, and a faintly amused quirk to her lips.
My mom, who hadn't seen us entering, catches their blatant goggling and turns back to see for herself what's the deal.
She finds us. Her dark eyes go wide, too, but then a certain nervousness comes over her.
And then I see Mrs. Tyler.
She, pretty in her beige dress, is sat alone, for her husband is with the panel, and her son is with me.
I don't know why I feel an instinctive sadness at the sight of her sitting by herself.
By now, she, who seemed to be engrossed in her phone, looks up, looking a little forlorn and lost. Her eyes find us readily enough. Perhaps because she was already thinking of her son who had left her sitting alone - only to come find me, and rekindle a long lost friendship.
The same that was kindled nine years ago, and the same that she herself had so cruelly extinguished, unheeding of my mother's beseeching tears.
Linda Tyler's reaction is the most puzzling and extraordinary.
She stares at us soulfully with wide, unblinking eyes, lips parted, as though she drew in a breath in stunned surprise. It's as if a deeply poignant epiphany hit her, or something within her broke into pieces.
The only person who seems fairly calm is my dad.
But I know he is only hiding his tenseness.
Two people deciding to sit next to each other isn't a big deal, I try to defend my action to myself.
Except that it is a big deal.
Efrim has never willingly initiated cordiality to anyone else. Except now, to me.
The fact that he has to me now has clearly sent everyone, including, as it seems, our parents, into shock.
And then, Efrim's mom rises from her chair, and is making her way through the crowd. She has a handkerchief held to her mouth, her nose is red, and through the strands of sleek brown hair veiling her eyes, as she keeps her head bowed and picks her way as quickly as she could, I can see the smudged mascara and the brimming eyes.
And this, I know, is more than just plain shock.
"What's wrong, is she leaving?" I ask Efrim, reining in my perplexity and utter anxiety.
Efrim is deadpan, indifferently following the sight of his mom exiting our elaborate front door in a flutter of beige dress and brown hair.
He turns and faces to the front, and gives one faint shrug of an elegant shoulder. "Yeah. Probably."
I want to say more - why are you letting her leave, aren't you going to ask her why is she leaving - but words die in my throat at the cool apathy on his face.
And that's when I, for the first time, shudder at the similarity it bears to Brian Tyler.
And that's when I just know that Tyler is more of a jerk he seems. Lilly's words ring in my ears - if I start talking of all the different ways he has played and aggressively competed you'll be crying your eyes out.
I suddenly don't want the man to be even sitting in our home.
The speech that is being presented sounded like vague noises to my ear until now. I try to focus on the words being spoken to calm myself the down.
But they are hardly words that would calm me down.
I thought this was a celebratory night. I am however rapidly finding out, as I focus on the words being spoken, that I was mistaken.
Because currently, it's our Chairman Paul Eliasson with the microphone at the lectern, standing tall and lean, looking like the quintessential businessman with his salt-and-pepper dark hair. And when he speaks, his tone is quite grave.
"It's true we have as our customers NASA," he pauses for it to sink in, with a certain urgency in his eyes, as though we all must see the significance of his point at once.
"Since the launch of our Astral Jet Propulsion unit in 2000," he continues. "And IBM has been our standard client since the very inception of Astral, for it's where Stephen's brainchild EXIM grew into the global phenomenon that it is today. And we all are indebted to every foray into the field of computing that we did since then." he nods in brisk acceptance.
"We all are indebted-" he turns and looks at my dad, who is all-ears, sitting back with his legs crossed with a foot on his knee, much like how Efrim is sat beside me.
"We all are indebted to Stephen's competent management and sheer intelligence. It is solely because of his hard work and determination that we opened our cloud computing unit in Washington, and developed our semiconductor technologies and x86-based server technologies, which have been sold to several big companies for billions.
"But it is my humble request, Stephen, that we stop right here with these cost-incentive cutting-edge technological endeavours. We have gained enormously from the projects we undertook. I think-" he pauses, taking the time to turn his gaze back at my dad, "that it is time we cut down on our cognitive computing projects. They cost us tremendously, but the output barely justifies the prolonged continuation of it." saying so, he ends on that clipped note - several heads nodding among the panel, and I am pained to find that among them are Quinn and Jake's dads.
Eliasson puts the mic in its stand and steps back, and takes his seat.
My father, who had been listening to all this with a calm front, puts his foot down from his knee and rises from his chair with a cool yet purposeful air. It's that same look he gets when he is about to drop some amazing news on us - like maybe we're going on a vacation to some far off place, or that he has struck upon some new genius, creative idea...
I am, however, shell shocked, when the first thing he does after taking hold of the mic is take my name.
"I was waiting for my son Noah to show up from wherever he had left for. Now that he is here, looking the worse for wear-" he turns and looks at Eliasson with a teasing smile -"maybe it's because of that ultimatum you spooked us all with, Paul." A murmur of laughter rushes through the hall. Eliasson grins at my dad, and I can't decide whether it's genuine or fake.
"Anyway, I have something to say that would cheer you up, Noah." my dad smiles at me, and I smile back, trying not to cringe at the entire hall's attention that has switched from the podium to the last table.
They all look comical as they twist and turn from where they are sat to catch a glimpse of me - it's pointless, it's not like what my dad is about to say is painted across my forehead.
I squirm where I sit in expectancy, and discomfort. I know my dad's intention was only to make me feel special, but this was a very dad-way to do it, which obviously has resulted into making me feel not special, but completely embarrassed.
It's all the more worse, because I can feel the heat of Efrim's presence near me, and his gaze burning into me.
But my dad turned the attention of the entire crowd on me for nothing, because he turns his eyes away from me and addresses everyone, not just me. I think he just wanted to say he thought this would cheer me up.
"It's the launching of another unit," he says, "It'll be called Cygnus A, for active space exploration, our most ambitious aim being working up steadily to building the resources to plan a manned mission to Mars."
My jaw slackens in disbelief.
What?
I vaguely hear the crowd bursting into wild cheer and applause.
"I know it isn't fair that I decided on this without consulting with you, Paul." dad tells him, "Or the rest of the members of the management. But I just went ahead with it because I had to, because I knew it's probable that not everyone of you would hop on board as readily as I wished you would. And since this endeavour has been planned without consultation, it's for that very reason that I am beginning this as a venture independent of Astral Corp. This will be undertaken independently by me, solely with my resources, and not a fraction of Astral Corp's capital will be incorporated into this. But it has been a dream that has been held for long, and now I think it's high time that it must be given a chance to become a reality. I think it's high time, because our own government's space programs have been feeble since the past few decades, as is apparent with the government's cancellation of funds to build what would have been the world's largest particle accelerator right here in America, and alas, we lost it to European Union, which currently holds the prestige of it, with the Large Hadron Collider."
He now turns his gaze to me with a soft smile. "I know how heartbroken my son was the first time he learnt how the American government had simply cancelled the funds and taken that moment of glory from us, that chance to be the ones leading the frontiers of science. The least I can do is try to mitigate some of the follies of the government, because I have the resources for it. And I do not want to waste the chance that I have while I am alive in this beautiful world to make an effort to change it for the better."
On that inspirational, articulate, well-spoken note, he ends his announcement.
Eliasson doesn't even bother with a smile now as he sits with a dour expression.
From the Astral board of directors, the ones who seem as dazed and thrilled as everyone else are Amy Inoue, Lee Imaishi, and Frank Beckham. Phil Forstner and Liam Hummel look as sour as Eliasson.
I realise that all is not cordial and in-sync among the Astral board of directors.
And among them, Brian Tyler sits, sharp, still, cold, distant as ever. A deathly silent observer.
His son, though, when I turn to look at him, smiles at me his quiet smile.
"Why do you look so nervous?" he looks softly at me - eyes crinkled and warm, crow's feet at the edges; it makes him look tender, unassuming.
I shake my head. I do not feel right.
Thing is, I myself don't know why.
Like I said, it's a premonition, an ache. It's like I know things before they could happen, but never the details, just the feeling.
I need some time by myself to process the events of this evening.
Possibly alone, back at my retreat. Or in the silence and the sanctuary of my bedroom.
And the familiarity and warmth that I felt for Efrim earlier this evening, which had then turned into giddy, panicky smugness as I sat beside him to the shock of everyone, has now inexplicably morphed into a nervous, sickly terror in me.
I feel my head spin. The sights around me seem to blur into each other.
He is intensely beautiful; concerned, quiet eyes, pale skin.
Fiery trees, tiny locket, and thin chain that come slithering smoothly as I pick it up from the litter of leaves. That tiny six-pointed star is unmistakable, unmistakable-
Despite the screaming instincts in me telling me to run the opposite way as fast as I can, it's counterintuitive, that I want to lean right into him. Which is exactly what I do when I lose my consciousness and pass out.
~*~