I watched as Sack walked out of the clubhouse, his quick step and shoulders tense, clearly trying to contain something that was about to explode. I stood there, motionless, feeling a weight on my chest. I had tried to talk to him, to offer him some kind of comfort, but I had failed.
I took a deep breath before returning to the main hall. The echo of conversations filled the space, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and the murmur of implicit agreements between calculated smiles. My parents were near one of the windows, talking to Sack's father, Victor. As always, Victor's presence dominated the place, his firm voice and impeccable bearing projecting authority.
I approached calmly, trying not to draw too much attention. Just as I arrived, Victor interrupted the conversation to ask:
"Where's Sack?" I want you to pay a little attention to how a business is done. These meetings are important for your future.
With what had just happened, I couldn't tell her the truth.
"He felt sick to his stomach," I replied quickly, trying to sound casual. "I think I needed some fresh air. He took the car and left.
Victor frowned slightly, but asked no further questions. Instead, he went back to focusing on my parents and the details of the transaction they were discussing. I stood to the side, trying to pretend that everything was fine.
I hadn't known Sack in a long time, just a little over a week, but there was something about him that made me feel connected. In this short time, I had realized that I was someone who carried much more than I let on.
I also had my own struggles with my parents, but it was different. They had always been more subtle in their way of pressuring me, disguising their demands as "suggestions" or "recommendations." Still, I could understand what Sack felt. That feeling of being trapped between what you want to be and what is expected of you.
As my parents and Victor continued to discuss numbers and strategies, I could only think of how much I wanted to do something for Sack. But how could I help him if he wasn't willing to let me in?
Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind: I didn't have his phone number. I had spent days talking to him in person, exchanging small conversations, but I had never bothered about anything as practical as asking for his contact. I looked at Victor, who was now immersed in an explanation about investments, and felt a twinge of nervousness. I didn't want to seem too interested, but it was the only option.
"Mr. Victor," I interrupted with a polite smile, "excuse me, but... did you have Sack's number?" I wanted to make sure he's okay after being gone so suddenly.
Victor looked at me with a slight nod of approval, as if he liked my concern. He pulled out his phone and searched his contact list before dictating the number to me. I quickly wrote it down on my own mobile, thanking him with a nod before retiring a bit.
Now I had it, but doubt invaded me. Should I write to him? Would it be too insistent? On the one hand, I wanted to give it its space; After all, he clearly needed time to process whatever was occurring. On the other, he couldn't ignore the feeling that maybe he needed to know that someone was willing to listen to him.
I sat down in a corner of the room, away from the hustle and bustle. I opened the messages app, wrote a simple "Hi, Sack. I'm Lindsay. I just wanted to know if you're okay" and deleted it instantly. I repeated the process at least three times before finally gathering the courage to send it out.
I pressed send, and a mixture of relief and anxiety came over me. Now all that remained was to wait for his response, if he decided to answer.
Several minutes passed without any notification. I looked at my phone every few seconds, waiting, but nothing. Maybe he was busy or just needed time. I tried not to think about it too much.
Just as I was about to put my phone away, an incoming call appeared on the screen. It wasn't Sack, it was Charlotte. I hesitated for a second before answering.
"Charlotte!" I greeted, trying to sound more animated than I really felt.
"Lindsay!" He replied in his nonchalant, ever-effervescent tone. Hey, I was thinking we haven't spoken since the party at the hotel. How are you?
"Oh, well, I suppose. Somewhat busy with this whole business thing about my parents. And you?
"Oh, you know! Always busy planning cool things. In fact, that's what I wanted to tell you. His voice took on a more excited tone. I'm hosting my birthday party this weekend. It's going to be spectacular, you know how I like to do things. And, obviously, you have to come.
"Your birthday?" I asked, surprised. I didn't remember hearing anything about it before.
"Yes, I'm nineteen, and I want it to be unforgettable." The party will be at my house. We'll have music, amazing food, and, well, interesting people. He paused as if to add drama to his words. Also, I want to officially introduce you all to my boyfriend. I think it's about time you got to know it.
"Your boyfriend?" I repeated, surprised but intrigued.
"Yes!" It's a charm, and I think you'll like it great. So, what do you say? Come?
"Sounds great, Charlotte. Sure, I'll be there," I replied with a smile, though my mind was still on Sack.
"Perfect!" I knew I could count on you. His enthusiasm was contagious. I'll send you the details later. See you, Lindsay!
I hung up the call and sighed, trying to process everything. For a moment, the thought of the party distracted me from my worries. Maybe it was just what I needed: a chance to clear my head.