Spices (FIRST DRAFT) ~ An Alejandro and Alfred Story

𝓣𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽𝔂-𝓼𝓲𝔁

As I inspected my almost healed facial wounds in the reflection of a metallic pen cup holder, Daryll’s familiar footsteps strode past the open door of my office. My breath slightly hitched from me expecting him to storm in. I stared at the door, listening to him walk further and further away.

Some foreign part of me has been lying all these months and years, telling others I loved my job and that I loved working. I hated it. Maybe it’s the black hole replacing Daryll’s heart sucking all the enjoyment I managed to conjure not to lose the drive to success that kept me going. Still, it was somehow better than being at home.

On the surface it seems as though nothing between Alejandro and I happened. Like everything was completely normal. But the reminder of the fight, the words exchanged, my actions, they were like a burn mark that bothers you all the time. I concluded that he was choosing to forget about it, and I tried to do so too, letting this be something that needed to heal on its own.

I put down the pen cup and pushed myself out of my seat, heading to the printing room to retrieve a report I needed to read. I turn the corner and see Daryll having a conversation with another employee, and by the looks of it, it wasn’t going to end anytime soon. I still really did not want to see him and walked small circles, deciding whether or not I should wait to get the report later.

I slap my thigh and walk toward him anyway. Who cares? If I need to work, I need to work.

Perhaps I was too confident. My steps slow down as I near him, turning my head away from him so he doesn’t notice me. 

Daryll abruptly excuses himself and the employee walks away. He doesn’t miss a beat to grab my arm right before I pass and pull me to him. “Say, Alfred…” he begins with a deep inhale. “I’ve been meaning to ask, any marriage plans any time soon? Tim Prodder just got engaged and he’s barely twenty. Time’s ticking.”

I jumble my words from the random subject. There was obviously a truth to be spoken but it had no place here. “What’s the rush?” I decide to rely with a shrug and an awkward chuckle.

His lips twitch. “You know, I was married by twenty-five and had you before thirty. It’s about time you got your life together.”

“My life’s plenty together,” I roll my eyes.

“You’re about as put together as dry sand,” he snaps. “It’s time you let go of your leisurely, careless attitude and settle down. Don’t try to tell me that you’ve only been focused on working this whole time in New Orleans. Your weak progress contradicts that. You’ve been seeing girls, so who are some possible candidates?”

I reach for the back of my neck, my brain scrambling for fake names to throw at my dad. His piercing gaze did no worse than a lie detector, knocking out my mind anything I thought of. My blood pools below me and every sped up heartbeat screams in my ear that he knows. He knows. He knows.

A firm hand on my shoulder almost makes me hurl from panic. The irritatingly cheery expression on Kenneth’s face becomes my new saviour. 

He has no problem inserting himself in the conversation, matching his right hand placement on Daryll’s shoulder. “I heard something about marriage. Is Al finally tying the knot?” There’s a spark of realization in his eyes. “Oh! It’s that girl you’re seeing, right? Good for you.”

I shrug his hand off my shoulder. “Don’t call me Al,” I mumble, avoiding all questions, but Daryll was quick to keep them in focus.

“You’ve been seeing a girl here? Who is she?”

I spin a wheel of more fake names to cease the interrogation and get out of this quickly. What’s the most generic name that neither Daryll nor Kenneth would know of a person with the same name?