Memories of a Life That Never Happened

Chapter 84 - Tragicomedy

Rain had resumed falling in the afternoon. Over the Chusters manicured gardens, it had waned into an annoying drizzle. It was, nevertheless, still strong enough to damp one's clothes. The man sitting in the Nicholas' armchair with a cigar between his fingers looked past the window and watched Escobar's arrival.  

Mica's stepfather crossed the lawn with the frayed collar of his denim jacket popped up, the faded blue of his baseball cap revived in blotches by the rain. It had been three hours and change since his meeting with Ishikura. Both had rehearsed the conversation that was about to unfold several times, until the words began to get confused in Escobar's mind.  

Nicholas received Escobar in his study. The comforting smell of books was nearly undetectable under the stench of cigar smoke.  

"Hello, Escobar," said Nicholas, giving his hand a vigorous shake. "I heard your daughter is out of the hospital. What a relief!" 

Escobar took off his cap, his eyes downcast. "Yes sir," he said and looked up to seek reassurance in Ishikura's eyes. The old man's expression was deadpan, but his lips were a bit thinner than usual.  

Escobar cleared his throat. "I've heard your son is still under observation," he said. "I hope he gets well soon." 

"Thank you." Nicholas shoved his hands in his pockets and his eyes went blank. For a short moment, he was lost in his thoughts. "So do we," he mumbled. Then, as if he had recovered from his daydreaming, he asked, "but you're not here to ask me about my son. Ishikura tells me you have an irrefutable proposal for me. Is that accurate?" 

Nicholas circled a wide wooden desk with glass top and sat behind it. He looked rather important. A king in his throne.  

"That is. Yes," Escobar confirmed, than pointed his hat to one of the two less regal visitor's chairs. "Can I seat?" 

"By all means!" Nicholas laced his fingers, his elbows spread wide over the glass. "I must say I'm itching to know what this is all about." 

"Ditto," a hoarse voice said from the other side of the room.  

Escobar swiveled in his chair and looked at the brown leather armchair. A puff of smoke bloomed up in the air and denounced the source of the smell. There was a man sitting behind the tall backrest and wings. His limp hand hung over the armrest. Strangling his little finger, a ruby ring glinted as he gripped the armrest and pushed himself up. 

"Aren't you going to introduce us, Nicholas?" the suited man said with a wolfish smirk. 

"Forgive me gentlemen. Ubiratan, meet Escobar. He was my party's coordinator. You met his daughter that dinner. Micaela. She was sitting with us." 

"Hmm," Ubiratan studied Escobar through squinched eyes. "Yes, I remember. Lovely young lady. Beautiful green eyes." 

Taking another drag of his cigar, Ubiratan contoured the center table and walked toward the desk. He half-sat on the glass top, one leg in the floor for support, the other swinging air.  

Exposed between Ubiratan's raised pants and the rim of his socks, milky flesh swung next to Escobar, who tried to spare his eyes from looking at that hairy shin.  

"So let's hear it," Nicholas said.  

Escobar was happy to focus on him. 

"I would like to make a trade."  

"A trade?" Nicholas threw him a skeptic scoff. "What is it that you would like to trade? No offense, but I'm not sure you have anything that could spark my interest, my friend." 

"Unless you're looking to marry that pretty daughter of yours," offered Ubiratan. "In that case I may know a few people interested." He laughed off the comment but waited for Escobar's reaction.  

"I believe," Escobar started saying in such a low voice that the other men could not hear him. 

"Excuse me, could you speak up, please?" Ubiratan asked, cupping his ear with his hand in mockery. 

Escobar looked past Ubiratan, at Ishikura, who gave a slight nod. 

"I believe you will be interested in this trade," Escobar said in a confident tone that did not fool anyone. "Your life for my daughter's." 

Their cackle resounded throughout the room. 

Nicholas spread his palms on the desk, bent slightly forward. "Are you drunk, buddy? What is that preposterous trade you offer?" 

Escobar's expression was unfazed by the men's reaction.  

"I am sorry. What is pres-postrous?"  

Another burst of laughter had Mica's stepfather starting to sweat. He glanced at Ishikura, who avoided eye contact by staring down. Escobar shifted in his chair, his hands squeezed the cap on his lap.  

So far, things were not at all going as planned.