When I met Amir, I had some unreasonable contempt for myself. I hated the new beard that was growing; I hated the change of voice that was happening; I just hated all of this; it made me feel like an adult. I know many teenagers want to be adults, be independent, have their own wealth, find a family, have children, be loved well, and all that. However, for me, adulthood meant pain and grief. Adulthood meant being alone; adulthood meant time to plant your own seeds; it meant time to put yourself to work; and I really wanted to still remain under the arm of my father; I really wanted to be taught like a child how to shoot a bow; I really wanted to be told, 'Come boy, lunch is ready'. I wanted so much when I realized the cleavages of adulthood had started encroaching on my life. At that moment, I was about thirteen to fourteen years old. So when I met Amir, we seemed to share the same contempt. I would say I hate adulthood, and he would add, "That's what makes both of us brothers." That's how it all started—a little contempt. Amir was calculation bright, while I was English and Science bright; the laws of quantum physics, the cosmos, and the science behind electricity, I was as bright as any person in the class; however, when it came to calculations, it was more of trial and error, so when calculations were brought up in science, well, it became both an error identified inside my then-developing brain.
We used to spend most of our extracurricular time in pubs, maybe watching the happenings around the city. Amir liked girls; he liked women; he sought all kinds of pleasures with any woman that he found in that city, while I was a watchdog, making sure he was not caught in the act. I also liked women; I did. Who couldn't? If I were to describe a woman then, it would be all the niceties, the dresses they wore, the little white stockings that made me wonder and imagine what lay underneath, the gloves, the ladies, and, as I state in a quite rational statement, a different kind of built creature; they can drive one crazy in a minute and make a grown man have the wildest and the craziest thoughts. They can rule a monarch without the people knowing, believing it is the king in honor; they can do anything; they are just perfect. I loved to call them the spinal cords of every family. Well, I loved and wanted to feel the pleasures, but I knew; I knew my roots; I knew what these pleasures had done to me, and so I wanted none of it. My mind was set to marry a royal or a high-class lady, taught of nothing but how to protect their innocence, one who shall have been touched by none other than me, a fragile being who wants and yearns for no one but me, she who lives and shall carry my name head held high. But sometimes when I thought about this, the idea of her carrying my name, head held high, felt like nothing but some fantasy, a random fantasy, for who would accept to carry a bastard's name? However, back then, my roots were not much of a problem; they had not yet really dug into the deep depths of desperation to the extent of yearning to kill an innocent being, as today. But I was taught to prepare myself, maybe if it ever happened. All this I thought as I waited for Ezron in our room to give him the news. I felt that telling him outside was not quite safe, for one thing about these places is that you never know who your foe or ally is; you just find yourself trapped in either disgrace or grace. And after a moment, Ezron entered, still wearing his waiter attire.
"Bro, I just asked someone to take a shift. What is so urgent?" He started
"Amir is giving me a deal to play the piano in his British hotels and at any parties of the royals that come inside this country."
"No, you have to decline the deal." He stated it rather quickly, and I could see worry written all over his face. "You did not accept it, didn't you?" He added.
"I told him I would think about it."
"Well, think about it and decline the offer. Tell him you have a family that you can't leave behind. Tell them that you can't leave this city for another humid area because you have some disease. Tell him something that will make him believe that you can't take the job."
"You can't say no to a prince; you know that." I stated, quoting the constitution in this country, that even in the monarchy, one was never allowed to decline or not accept any deal the prince or king asked of him; it would mean perishing.
"What if they find you?" Ezron asked as he removed the white clothing that hid his hair.
"I'll act out that I am not the one, or wear some mask."
"You have to tell Amir the truth."
"He already knows Ezron; he knew it was me all along." I stated
"What? But how?"
"I tried, refusing the job offer, and then he just called out my name after some of our one-on-one talks. He added, He shall deal with you later."
"You can't leave me here, Lock. We should deal with this together."
"I am just a mere peasant in front of him, one who is supposed to follow orders; what exactly am I to tell him? I added that you are like a brother, but he stated he would deal with you. I can't rule out more than that; I can't try to convince him otherwise; he has always had the most direct of thoughts, and convincing him otherwise, well, that, even then, was like swimming in some ocean, without any direction nor any sight of land."
Ezron was suddenly quiet; he seemed lost in thoughts. It felt like I had uttered the most confusing of words towards him; however, I wished he knew I would never forget him or his mother, whose hospital bills had surged too, I guess. I wanted him to say a word; at least encourage me by stating something like whatever your decision, I shall appreciate. But he was rather silent; he was very silent, as one could hear the sound of the wind far away.
"I shall manage," he finally said, three words, and then left the room without saying another word. Maybe, Oh God, my mind argued, he had, of course, made all these adventures because of me; he had made the sacrifice of leaving his sick mother for me, and now that we were finally getting something for ourselves, I was already deciding to leave, leave him utterly alone without papers, in a new world. I suddenly felt grief and sadness from his words. I hope he understood, but I would make sure that he was also given a place in the place or at the dance parties that I would find myself in. I will miss him, of course. He was a brother of all colors, selfless, and ready to help.
After the long day, it was my time to start doing my evening and night piano jobs. I wore my elegant white attire, a large reddish cloak with the logo of the hotel, and the Arabian silk head gown that covered much of my hair, and then left for downstairs. The party was not yet over; I had heard that today would be the last, so there would be a lot of things happening, even fornication, if that's a better word. The manager had even hired some prostitutes to deal with the desires of men; artists were everywhere selling their arts, while I, Lock, or Willock, the son of the Duke of Bavdon, contemplated as the son of the King of England, a threat to the throne, was seated behind the piano, playing what his hands were magnifying, caressing the chords of the piano.
The night was long, and everyone had started mingling. Our hours of music were over, and so I left my seat to maybe look at the royals who had arrived and maybe check on some art when I saw the princess eyeing me. Being a gentleman, I took a few cups of wine from the passing trey, headed towards the princess, and offered her the first glass. It was always something that men did to women.
"Do you enjoy the party?" I asked, trying to start a conversation.
"Yeah, but it is quite crowded." She added as if complaining. A thought flashed through my mind of taking her outside to watch the stars, but I remembered the teachings about manhood and women, which were often written in the many religious books. Finding yourself alone outside with a woman who is not betrothed to you may imply a lot, even when it means nothing. The risk of being called a rapist lies there, so I decided to take her to the art room, which was quite quiet.
Top of Form
"Follow me,.." I stated, steading my legs towards that room, as of course the princess had complained of the noise. "Art, well, its not crowded, I hope you like." I added.
"You sure are led by the principles of your roots." She stated this, which made me smile a bit.
"I am not quite sure why you say this, but well, some values deserve urgent learning and cramming."
"This is our last party." She stated, looking at me, and then continued, "It would be a waste of time if we did not treasure the moment." Her words were quite confusing. I did not want to think of pleasures, nor did I want to think of anything bad—not in a bad way—and suddenly I wondered why I was overthinking things so much when it came to this girl, who I just met. But of course she is a princess, taught to be charming and cunning in so many ways.
"Well, you have me." I tried stating, but I realized I was stuttering; sometimes it happened to me in the allure or on watch of beautiful ladies, so I unwantedly scratched my chin and then repeated, "Well yeah, the hotel is glad to have so many guests."
"I never talked of the hotel; I used 'we,'" she added. This suddenly made me divert my eyes from hers; this had only happened when I was with the princess. Princess Diana, to be precise, she always made my legs lose focus and my heart race, something that was happening currently. My temperature was rising in greater debts and I was becoming nervous over things I wasn't sure, and I knew I had to do something. Princess Diana would lightly grab my hand and take me to the center of the ball room for a dance in cases where she would realize I was starting to have some unusual feelings. Now what was I to do? I was an inexperienced brat when it came to women. I needed a savior so fast.