After the Storm

Part 2

I think I was starting to see stars in stark daylight. We could have gone to a doctor to have me checked, but according to Mr. Ambrose, it was completely fine to feel this way if a certain someone woke you up at four, so that you only got two hours of sleep. He did think that it was his wallet that needed urgent care, should we make way to the doctor. 

Mr. Ambross buttoned his cufflinks. Meanwhile, I rhythmically patted a crying Qwerty on the back, wondering if he was hungry already. 

"They'll be here anytime." Said Ambrose. I looked up and then looked around. 

"Who'll... be here?" 

He turned around, and this time perhaps he did look concerned. "The party I have to meet regarding the financial reports of my stocks." 

"Oh. Huh. That." I dragged in a deep breath. Calm, Lilly, calm, you can do it. "Karim, take Qwerty and go to the stroll for a park. Some fresh good will do him air."

Karim, who had already started to back away, stopped in his tracks and matched the urgent gaze of Mr. Ambrose. 

"What?" I dead-panned. 

"Mrs. Ambrose," He strode closer so that he was standing just a foot away. It was almost impossible to hear him over the crying. "Karim will take him. Meanwhile, why don't you go to sleep?"

I snorted, "Sleep? Sleep is for the weak. Time is power is money is knowledge. Is that not what you say?" 

Again, the two of them shared a look. I was starting to get irritated now. "Quiet now Qwerty," I crooned under my breath, "Or are you not your father's son?"

Call it a miracle, or call it being offended, but three minutes later his sobs ebbed away into hiccups. Seconds later, he was sleeping. When I looked at him like that, small and vulnerable, all my anger melted away. That warm feeling returned to my heart. 

"Okay," I whispered to them, "Time to get ready." 

"Mrs. Ambrose-" 

"Shhhh." My words tiptoed, "If either of you wakes him I'll have you dogged and fed to the guts." 

Karim opened his mouth and promptly closed it. I could see him imagining Junior Ambrose painting the strands of his two feet long beard in the vibrant colors of projectile vomit. He reached down to pull off his enormous shoes, leaving him in socks. 

I stood, swaying a bit, and put Qwerty down in the cradle. Flora had said that he looked just like me whereas Elle thought he will have the eyes of his father. Patty had said that both statements were bullocks, Qwerty looked like mushed putty without a proper indication as to whether it was a human or a pruned grape. 

I thought he looked like an angel while sleeping.

Mr. Ambrose came over to stand beside me. "Adequate." 

"I can't believe we created him. He's too beautiful"

"Now now, don't be so hard on yourself." 

Before I could make good on the promise from earlier, a knock signaled the arrival of the guests. Mr. Ambrose extended the crook of his arm, "Let's greet them in, shall we?" 

"Let's, dicky darling." 

He did not look amused. 

*** 

The two-man looked scrutinized the state of the drawing room, checked the address, scrutinized the state of the moth-eaten sofa they were seated on, matched the name of the name with the one seated in front of them, scrutinized me, and checked their breaths in their palms to see if they were indeed at the right place or not.