"... what wouldn't I do to you?"
Tension, heavy.
Windows, fogging.
Heartbeat, racing.
Lips, expecting.
Flames of silver and emerald were blazing as Ansel leans forward to...
.........
*beep beep beep beep beep*
Groggy. Hung-over. Exhausted.
Disoriented is the most lenient word that could embody my current state of being on this fine Saturday morning.
A paint-stained hand reaches for the alarm clock as my stiff body moves accordingly to habit.
It's quite amazing how I don't even have to actively think about what I need to do now. Growing used to doing somatic exercises first thing in the morning has proven to help me surprisingly significantly.
.........
Back home, mental fog and the overwhelming pent-up stress were the foundation of my daily sorry excuse for a sane lifestyle.
In a constant state of panic and paranoia, I didn't need to intake any caffeine to always be on edge as anxiety does that to me for free.
The ceaseless desire to be presentable and put together in front of everyone had resulted in me being this burnt-out amicable overachiever.
Things came to a point where nobody bothered asking me if I was okay, my environment projected this unbreakable pleasant persona onto my already fragile people-pleasing reality.
This led to the shock of a lifetime for Maureen and Esther, my family's night-shift house helpers. Bandaged bloody wrists and hooked up on a blood bag by the on-call family physician, it was quite interesting how the only blood relative that gave a damn about me was living in a completely different country.
On what of those that conceived me, one is drowning their life full of regret with whiskey and rum, and the other, consumed by greed and petty vengeance, is having an affair with who knows which look-alike from his unrequited love.
Gran-gran flew in the dead of night to give my parents the threat of a lifetime. My parents would be cut off from the family fortune and had them legally change my last name to Obsidian, Gran-gran's surname.
Mother was adopted because Gran-gran's sister died of childbirth. That makes Gran-gran her biological aunt while Mother's biological father died in the war. Marriage was never in the cards for Gran-gran as she found men unreliable.
.........
Dressing up to head down for breakfast, I finally got to check my phone and read Ansel's message. He was sweet enough to inform me that he'd be busy training today.
Settling down in my chair while absentmindedly eating my food, I contemplate what I'm going to do today.
I had a life before Ansel.
Granted it wasn't a happy life but still!
Why do I feel so sad whenever he's not around?
I'm sulking like some clingy lap cat with a severe anxious attachment that was left alone at home.
A rather depressing thought crossed my mind. "Definitely need to learn to not be too clingy. Nobody likes clingy anxious girls right??"
My sigh of defeat had Mr. Connor on high alert as he brisk walked toward me. With a gloved hand on my shoulder, he asked, "Ms. Nikita, is something troubling you?"
"Can you promise to not tell this to anyone? Especially Ansel?" Holding my pinky towards Mr. Connor, my emerald eyes, filled with as much seriousness as my body can muster this early morning, I asked Mr. Connor to keep this talk between us.
Sensing my weak attempt to be serious, Mr. Connor gave me a knowing smile as he gestured the three of the morning staff to clean the dining table as he instructed the two in waiting to prepare sliced fruits and tea by the greenhouse parlor.
Offering his hand to me, Mr. Connor stated, "Tell what to Ansel?"
Meeting his eyes, we tried to muffle our giggles as we took our time walking to the greenhouse parlor in the west wing.
Ever the gentleman, Mr. Connor initiated the conversation with, "We've received word from your former chauffeur that Dante sends his utmost gratitude for sending 3 months' worth of care package to his only daughter. He couldn't stop crying about how thankful he was for the handwritten manual you made for Maurice, seeing as he didn't know how to talk to her as she had her first period."
Happiness and relief filled my recently sleepy body with a healthy dose of pride as I said, "Maurice has no female adult to ask sensitive puberty questions to, so I made her the manual. Even added some basic do-s and don't-s in skincare."
Giving my hand on his arm a light tap while a polite smile graced his face, Mr. Connor shared, "Dante mentioned Ms. Constanze and Maurice spending more time together. Practically showing Maurice the way of womanhood. I do hope you don't feel threatened by being replaced."
Laughing as we finally reached the greenhouse parlor, I explained, "Connie asked why I was looking for support groups for immigrant children, I mentioned Maurice still hasn't made friends since she transferred. Connie remembered our discussion in the car when Dante asked how he can help Maurice since she would've to start puberty soon. Connie offered to take Maurice under her wing, like an unofficial big sister of sorts."
Giving him a light pat on the shoulders, I stated, "Don't worry. I'm happier that they've gotten close when I left. I was worried about both Connie and Maurice when I left. I'm glad to know that they have each other now."
Settling down at the garden dining table by the stain-glass windows, Mr. Connor and I enjoyed the sliced fruits and afternoon tea, bantering back and forth about the start of Connie's potential love life when I got another message from Ansel.
Unable to hide the smile on my face, Mr. Connor asked, "So what is that I won't remember telling to Ansel?"
Caught by surprise, I pulled my brown teddy bear hoodie over my head, with my failed attempt to hide my embarrassment, I stuttered, "Am I... that obvious?!"
Chuckling his signature baritone laugh, Mr. Connor continued, "I specifically picked this place for us to talk as all passersby would only hear is the chirping of the birds from outside. No one could eavesdrop even if anyone tried."
Hesitant to speak, Mr. Connor spoke again, "How about this? I spill, you spill. You game?"
Curiosity jolted me off of my seat, as I eagerly asked, "Wait! I can ask anything? Like anything is on the table?"
Smirking as he tilted his head, Mr. Connor loosed his tie and took off his coat when he mentioned, "I'm willing to answer anything within reason. But remember, Ms. Nikita, the same rules apply to you."
With his palm facing upwards, Mr. Connor gestured for me to take a seat as I couldn't seem to contain my excitement.
Giddy in my seat, Mr. Connor asked if I was comfortable speaking up first. From excitement shifting to nervousness in a matter of seconds, Mr. Connor picked up on my cues and started to share first.
Taking his time drinking his tea, Mr. Connor settled his teacup down as he eased back into his seat. Enjoying the view through the stain-glass, he spoke, "Pierre and I have always had an unexplainable bond."
Shoving sliced papaya in my mouth, I patiently listened as Mr. Connor continued, "During that time of human history, we were at the tail ends of that ongoing war. Got drafted at a young age with no particular passion in life, so signing up to be drafted made sense for us. It's amazing how not a lot of youngsters these days appreciate the freedom they enjoy was paid for by the bloodshed of their ancestors. Madam had taught you well to be appreciative and grateful about the sacrifices from those that came before you."
Nodding in agreement, Gran-gran was amazing for making me understand mature topics like these.
"It's quite extraordinary how one's bond with another human being intensifies after every hardship thrown at us, especially whenever our lives are on the line. So our tie with each other had far exceeded of what typical friendships would be expected of. Pierre, to me, is..." Mr. Connor stopped talking as I was practically leaning forward on the table, eager to hear every word that has been said.
With a wry knowing smirk, Mr. Connor leaned forward as he stated, "I believe it is your turn, Ms. Nikita."
"Oh come on, Mr. Connor! Don't leave me hanging like that. Please continue!" Clasping my hands together, I begged Mr. Connor to keep going yet he remained firm.
With a sigh of defeat, closing my eyes shut, I decided to speak, "I hate how I can't stop thinking about Ansel." Nitpicking at my fingertips, I continued, "I hate how I miss him whenever he's gone to do his thing and live his life without me."
Mr. Connor remained silent as he continued listening, I said, "I was never like this!? I- I have this fear of being abandoned again." My head hung low as I muttered, "Like how Mithras just left me like that."
Still quiet, I explained further, "I feel as if- if I don't know where Ansel's going and what he's doing, I fear that he'll replace me with someone else!" With that statement, my head shot up as I stared into Mr. Connor's eyes, still full of understanding and patience.
"I- uhm... he might want someone easier to deal with. Someone better. Someone with less or no baggage. Someone healed." My fears embodied perfectly by these words had left my flushed cheeks with a trail of tears.
Biting my lower lip, I continued, "So many times, I wondered. Why is Ansel still here? Why hasn't he given up on me? Why does he still care? Everyone leaves, which I don't understand. Why won't he just walk away?"
My glistening teary eyes stared into the distance as I continued, "Everything my doubts and fears get the better of me, he would always insist that I deserve to be loved. To this day, I'm still struggling to see that."
Looking straight into Mr. Connor's eyes, I asked,
"Am I really worth loving? Worth saving?"