Being Shot

P h o t o #33 - Rain Rain, Go Away

P h o t o #33 - Rain Rain, Go Away

I held my breath as the elegant chime rang out within the house, muffled by drywall and emptiness by the time it reached my ears.

Waiting for a long while, blood pulsing within my ears and my fingers twitching anxiously behind my back, I almost shook as the sound of a lock clicking undone broke the tension.

Before the door could even open, solace flooded through my veins. 'Elliot's home," I thought, 'Thank god he's letting me in.'

The next emotion within me could only be compared to the feeling of wind being forcefully kicked out of one's lungs as I came face to face with a person who was someone other than Elliot. I concealed the surprise I felt behind placid eyes that daringly stared up into the hazel ones belong to the man in front of me.

The first thing noticed was how undeniably well he held himself. Just an inch or two taller than the Elliot I was expecting, his dark hair only holding a hint of gray was cut neatly and swept to the side in a stylish yet formal crop. The salt and pepper look suited him, and his face held ghosts of what could have only been a sweep of faint freckles across his cheeks. He wore a sweater vest over a plain white shirt and pressed khakis covered his long legs. Even through the few age lines that creased his face, you could tell that he was quite an attractive older man, most likely even more so in his younger years. He was the type of man my grandmother definitely would point out to me while we scoped about in public and swoon over.

Probably the part of him that screamed "wealthy" the most was the fact that he wore spit-shined brown loafers even when standing within his house.

The eyes that stared down at me held a sincere surprise, like the last thing he expected to be in front of his mahogany front doors was a scraggly teenage girl wearing hand-me-downs.

"Hello," His voice was deep as it greeted be kindly, "May I ask who you are?"

"Emma Leighs," I responded, "I'm...a friend of your son's."

It didn't take a heavy investigation to realize that the man in front of me was none other than Elliot's father. Now I really was on guard.

A warm, charming smile broke out onto his face, "Is that so?" He asked me, not giving me time to reply to his question, "Well, come on in. It's becoming quite cold outside."

I gulped as I entered the home I had sprinted out of in a frenzy just months before. The irony was heavy in this statement.

I couldn't say I wasn't taken aback when Elliot's father let me in without a second thought. I immediately expected to be turned away at my heals, not even getting a chance to speak with Elliot once before my departure. This definitely got my attention.

The interior hadn't changed. Still as breathtakingly detailed, accented, and all around elegant as it was before. Not one plant nor picture was out of place. Paintings that adorned the walls complimented the furniture throughout the house. My shoes clicked across the hardwood floor as I was led deeper into the house by the man in front of me, scoping out the place in silence.

The only conclusion that I drew from my observations was that this house was anything but homely.

Once we finally entered a sun room at the back of the house and stopped, my eyes landed on a crafted dark wood table with one chair at each of its four sides. Mr. Beau turned and smiled at me before walking towards a chair to my left, pulling it out and motioning for me to take a sit.

I politely thanked him as I took my seat, choking down questions about Elliot's whereabouts. I needed to be patient.

"Just please, please be careful."