Wild Bastard

45

Marina

"Are you sure you don't want me to talk to him first?"

Matthew stops the engine right in front of a house just about as luxurious as theirs. Only about half the size.

My heart is pounding like a jackhammer under my ribs. In fact, I have no need to meet the person who left me on the doorstep of the orphanage, but all my life I have trivially wanted to know why. What was the reason for leaving his child?

"No, I want to see his reaction. Not prepared in advance, but the very first. To be caught off guard"

Matthew nods approvingly, we get out of the car and walk down the narrow path. It's strange, but it' hard to take the steps. I always thought that if I found my father, I wouldn't worry, because he was a stranger to me.

What do you love your parents for? For their love and affection. For their willingness to support you in times of need or punish you for bad behavior. Parents are the people who have seen all your bumps and continue to be there to keep you safe from the next.

I've been my own father and mother all my life. But for some reason, now, as I approach the house of a complete stranger, the jitters attack every cell in my body. A faint hope floats in the air, creeping up my nose and spreading like a virus through my body. Hope that I won't be rejected, though that's exactly what I'm preparing myself for.

Matthew's fingers braid tightly around mine. No matter what follows, I will always be eternally grateful to him.

The door is opened by an older woman, followed by a stout man with gray hair on his temples and an expensive suit.

I'm starting to run out of air, because I already know it's him.

"Matthew?" Spreading his arms out to the sides, the man approaches us.

"Good day, Mr. Hall!"

"Good day! What brings you to me? Even not alone."

After greeting Matthew with a firm handshake, the tenacious gaze of his dark eyes is digging into me. I do not know why, but I creep. It's probably the insincere smile that's to blame.

"Why don't you show us into your office? We'll talk there!" Matt suggests in an admonishing tone, which results in a look of surprise on the elderly man's face.

"Of course, come on in!"

A rather dark office greets us with businesslike restraint. I do not notice how I start to peel off the nail polish, as I sit down in a leather armchair. Matthew takes a seat right on the armrest, not leaving me alone even now.

"Well, young people, tell me! What brings you here? "

The man sits across from me and clasps his hands in a businesslike manner. I can't even think of calling him father.

"It's been a long time coming, Liam. Or should I call you Peter Mills?"

Matthew is not generous with unnecessary introductions. He hits him straight in the forehead, taking him by surprise and making the master of the house freeze and stare at him with a testing, icy gaze.

"What do you mean, son? "

"Don't pretend you don't understand. We're not here to play riddles with you."

"What are you here for?"

"We're here for the clues."

The look in his brown eyes once again moves to me. I have to swallow, as my throat becomes incredibly dry.