Here Forever

Gotcha!

"I believe that all women are pretty without makeup - and can be pretty powerful with the right makeup"

Fiona kept glancing at her father, checking if he was fine. His face was devoid of any human emotion, making it considerably difficult to read him. It was too dark and with no specific lighting the house didn’t look any familiar. For a while they just stood there outside the large metal bars gating the huge Victorian house, waiting for any childhood memory to come and replay but none came. She didn’t remember anything just had a fade kaleidoscope of memories. She couldn’t even memorize the face of her old chubby grandmother or her father’s step sister.

 She curled her finger around George’s hand “Are you fine, Dad?” she inquired softly.

He sighed rather loudly and looked at her through same green eyes, “I suppose so.” The sad smile across his lips didn’t fit his young features but nonetheless he was smiling. She acknowledged his dismal smile with her own encouraging one. Holding tightly her hand George pulled her through the humongous door and strode towards white oak door.

George was feeling daunt and unnerved by the whole situation. He had always avoided talking about his mother or his half life spent with her, it was something he rather avoid remembering. All these years, he had locked all the sufferings in a vacant chamber in his mind. But somehow fate had dragged him back and spat the past in his face.

“Do you remember your aunt Trinity?” he asked looking at her while periodically glancing at the door, waiting for someone to welcome them, or maybe not. “Um I guess, yeah. I mean I remember she has brown long hair and …” the shuffling on the other side of the door abruptly stopped her ranting.

The door opened and a brown head peeked through the other side, “Is there anything I can help you with?” the boy asked generously. George and Fiona were baffled to see this boy at the door. They expected Trinity since she lives there. Who could possibly he be? Ignoring the chanting in his mind George uncertainly explained “Yes actually, I am George and this is my daughter Fiona here…”

 The boy hastily interrupted George “Oh, I am sorry please come in.” he opened the door ajar and gestured them to enter inside. George picked up his travel bag “I’ll help you with your luggage. By the way I am Drake.” he introduced himself and George shook his hand in acknowledgment. Both the males entered first tugging the luggage with them.

 Fiona crossed the threshold and awed at the interior of the beautiful, warm house. It was nothing like their two-bedroom apartment they had left behind. It was expensive, very expensive. The floor was covered with white marbles with large red carpet shielding the magnificent floor. The furniture and other wooden articles were old, ancient as she would describe but they complimented the look of the house. In her sight there were three different corridors from the large hall in which they currently stood. Drake toured them to the first corridor tugging the luggage with him. Fiona looked around to see pictures and exotic painting hanging on the wall. There were tones of pictures of a family she didn’t know existed. The pictures were of her aunt Trinity and her husband Max with their two twin daughters, fraternal twins. She looked back at the boy who was leading them down the hall “I didn’t know I had a cousin brother.” Fiona exclaimed out loud, “Um…I am sorry I just didn’t see you in these pictures.” She gestured towards the pictures in which George was engrossed himself. All the pictures were striking his heart with a hammer. His throat clenched badly with all the emotions smearing in his eyes. He was not surprised that there were no pictures of him although he lived with her mother for years. He was her flesh and blood and it still bothered him that he meant nothing to her.

“It’s okay. I am Drake Spears. I suppose Mr. Collins must have got a call from my father, Carl Spears.” He quietly admitted.

“Then how come you’re here at this time of the day?” George scrutinized his features. The boy was getting nervous under his gaze.