Jose went down the stairs with one thing in his mind - to get out of Ellaisaire's sight; away from his home and wife. He wanted to be alone, to take one long look at himself and to shout at the top of his voice or cry out in agony, for the way the world was exceedingly inclement to him. Way down the ground floor, he was still uncertain of his destination. Suddenly, an idea came to his mind - that while there was so much for him to see and do, he could afford to lock himself in a self-made dungeon. All he needed to do was to listen and watch. His wife, time now, time again accused him of building castles in the air; that he was always aloof, aloft and stumbled over molehills. He, on his part, cautioned her against being too heaven-bound and therefore worthless for earthly use. He maintained that he never thought of himself to belong to the class of the superb; the exclusive club of superheroes.
While it was true, he had gained considerable ground in his financial standing, his kind of work involved touching people and by doing so, brought hope, sunshine, and warmth to lifeless hearts.
He could not detach himself from them. His work portrayed people's painful emotions, feelings, temperaments, hopes, desires, and dreams. How could he hope to succeed in this if he did not live amongst them? His wife's criticism was his stepping stone.
Jose needed a camera. So, he purchased the camera together with its accessories. And now Jose was not going to laze about. He was going to work to earn an honest day's pay.
He was now going to mix and mingle with ordinary men and women because they are the ones who have a story to tell; stories that sell. As he sauntered the cobbled pavement of the Park View apartments, an old-time tune came to his ears. It was music that spurs in you a spirit of excellence. A desire to achieve all you have always wanted to do. Without being snoopy or creepy, Jose conversed with a lot of people and enjoyed doing it. By 3:00 pm his job was done.
Sony's arrival at the house was a god-sent opportunity for Ellaisaire to get to her husband's mind. She edged herself closer to him and looking down over his shoulder, put her right hand at the backrest on the chair he sat. Her left hand rested on the table near Sony's cup of tea.
This scenario was incomprehensible. Ellaisaire had stood there for less than ten seconds, but Sony would tell you she had been there more than five minutes. He was unable to read the message on Ellaisaire's face and this bothered him. She was strikingly beautiful.
Troubled Ellaisaire was now looking straight into Sony's eyes.
Sony, a seventeen-year-old, eleventh-grade student, put on an innocent face in a situation that had completely thrown him out of balance. With a faint but powerful feminine scent, together with the curves that gracefully contoured her feminine anatomy, Sony's adventurous mind beheld the stunning beauty of a person, who not only captivated him by proximity, but also by charm. He was between a rock and a hard place. Presently, his host was saying, "I will serve you another cup of tea if you don't mind."
This was Sony's moment of torment. The sound that came from Sony's lips was like a gurgle, chuckle, or choking sound. I would not like to belabor myself to mention that he had broken his voice.
Ellaisaire did not hear or rather understand Sony's response to her question. She moved over to a chair at the opposite side of the table, facing Sony.
Sony's heart throbbed through his ears as cold sweat trickled down his spine. He sat at the edge of the chair.
When a knock came on her door, Ellaisaire went to see who it was. Sony stood from his chair. Part of his mind told him to excuse himself and walk out, the other part told him to go silently. As he was still trying to decide what to do, his mother spoke from the door. Ellaisaire was now telling her that Sony was here to run some errand for Jose. Presently, the two women came to the sitting room, Winter leading the way. Winter was surprised that her son was friends with this family. Similarly, Sony's mother never acquiesced herself to the idea that Winter was an acquaintance to Jose. Ellaisaire offered her a cup of tea which she declined at first but later accepted to the chagrin of her son Sony. So, the two women sat down for a cup of tea.
If it was out of choice or by chance that these two women paid no attention to Sony, your guess is as good as mine.
Winter had passed by hoping to find Jose as usual. Similarly, Sony had passed by with hopes of seeing Jose's artwork. None of them imagined that Jose would be away and Ellaisaire is in the house. As fate would have it, members of two households met. Now as it was, Ellaisaire and Winter would look at Sony from time to time and then as if he did not exist, carry on with their conversation. Sony just stood there like a moron.
Winter, Sony's mother was now speaking.
She said, "I am very proud of my son, Sony. He is not like the rest of the young people in this area. Look at his hair, mode of dressing, language, and mannerisms. All polished." She added, "my son is a paragon par excellence."
Ellaisaire prodded by her conscience, asked, "What will you do when you grow up?"
Sony protested, "Please mum, please let me go now."
She answered, "Of course, my son." Turning to Ellaisaire said, "Like I was telling you, this community has young men and women who go naked in the name of fashion. See how mine stands tall above all of them." She added, "He always comes top in class."
Ellaisaire felt guilty that she was not having anything to contribute to this conversation.
So, she asked, "What school do you go to, Sony? Do you have a favorite subject?"
Sony was utterly mortified. How could these women tear down his sense of self-worth? He took two steps towards the door but his mother was already upon him. She was there smoothening his hair, getting her t-shirt tucked in, and generally getting her boy to look good.
All this got too much into Sony's nerves, so he excused himself saying, "Mum, am sorry I have to go."
"Certainly, my son," she said, "Remember to return the earliest possible time."
Sony was only too happy leaving these two women to carry on with their boring conversation. He had hardly left the room when the women burst into laughter. From the look of things, these women were getting on very well. Their talk came to an end when Sony returned to inform her that he was ready to leave.
Winter said, "Well Ellaisaire, my son is always dutiful and responsible. Let me attend to him." She added, "See you later."
With a firm handshake, bade farewell to her newfound friend. As she turned to close the door behind her, she wondered, the kind of husband Sony would be if he was this perfect. In a man's life, there have to be rough edges, a black spot, a dark patch; a scandal. Something that keeps him reminded that he is not perfect. Did Sony have any? Why would anyone need a wife, if he was round and smooth? Is it not an acceptable idea that an imperfect man should marry an imperfect wife and thereby accept each for love's sake? Love certainly requires a bad spot to cling to.
Winter had commented that if she wanted to keep her marriage, her husband had a table clock, cat, and a computer that she had to watch. What else did she know about her husband that she did not tell her?