Out From the Shadows

Chapter 13

Watching Almarie dance from afar causes jealousy to course through me like wild fire. I understand that she's the queen, and a girl for that matter, but she is with Almarie right now and I'm not.

I scoff at myself. How pathetic am I to be upset for someone talking with my fiancée? They are just talking, but the way the queen glares at her, it feels like she doesn't just want to chat.

To clear my mind, I join in small talk with the men. They are clustered together on the side of the dance floor, father included, the politicians arguing over laws and the others over business. I stride to the side where father stands, catching the last half of his sentence.

"...more trouble than she's worth."

"Well, she looks like a keeper. I mean, just look at her!" Mr. Cribson laughs hoarsely, unaware that I have joined the conversation. When he does, he doesn't clam up, rather chuckles again and gives me a shoulder pat.

"Can you find me one? The ol' lady wouldn't mind!" His laugh is continuous. I find out why when a few men, including Mr. Cribson, hold up glasses of whiskey from who knows where. They each take a swig, then continue chatting.

"How's business going Noah? Heard you got ol' Johnny here to invest finally." Mr. Cribson asks seriously, but it ends in another fit of laughter. He lightly punches Mr. Dobbins who takes another gulp from his glass.

"We grow more everyday, the economy thriving after that collapse 5 years ago." Father responds hardily, his glass three fourths empty. He has always been a light weight, something he and I have in common. Lets just get one thing straight, me plus alcohol equals a tough morning and a horrible headache. It took one time for me to learn my lesson.

I deny a drink from the platter the waiter brings over, a couple empty hands reaching greedily to them before they are all gone. Mr. Jameson chugs the whole glass and his face scrunches up like he drank straight gin.

They keep up the business chat, but I zone out. A memory surfaces, one from my childhood:

Mother is fixing my suit with her long, angelic hands. Her smile is serene and she fills the air with a sweet vanilla-cinnamon scent. She wears her "comfy clothes", her hair in a spiral on top of her head.

"Mom," my ten year old self complains," why do I have to put this suit on?"

She stops fastening my tie and rubs my cheek with her thumb.

"Baby, father wants to bring you to work today. That's a great honor and privilege not everyone gets a chance to do."

"I know Mom, but why can't you come with us?" She laughs prettily, something father enjoys hearing. He tells me all the time that he loves Mom, her laugh, her smile, and generosity included.

"Baby, I'm not feeling very well and don't want to hold you and your father back. I'll be home when you get back, I promise." Her lips peck my cheek and she squeezes me in a bear hug. She pulls back to cough into the crook of her arm. I leap at her, hugging her again.

"I love you Mom." I mumble into her ear.

"I love you too baby."

                                                                                 ******

"Ashton? Mr. Dobbins asked you a question." Father leaves out the disappointment in his voice because we are in public. I'll receive a speech when we get home, I just know it.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"How did you meet Miss Almarie?" He slurs his words, having drank more whiskey than anyone else.

"I first spotted her in town, then decided to ask around about her. When I got her address, I went to meet her and we got together." I try to sound as nonchalant as I can. Father obviously doesn't.

"You left out the part where you paid for her. We could have used the money to buy you a new suit!" Everyone breaks into peels of laughter, I don't. My hands tremble with anger, so I stuff them in my pockets.

"Anyway, Ashton, you shouldn't waste anytime with her. They don't stay that young and beautiful forever." More laughter fills the air and I feel likes it's being shoved down my throat, suffocating me.

I excuse myself politely and weave myself through the other side-lined people and to the dance floor. Being tall is helpful at the moment, I can see above some people and search for her easier. She is still sitting with the queen. I check my watch to find it's a quarter past ten, the windows around the room pitch black to correspond with the time.

I watch her, her head turned away from the queen. Her body is rigid again, yet the queen seems ignorant of the facts that point to Almarie's discomfort. Her lips move but over all the noise, I can't make out a single word. Almarie might be answering back, but with her lips barely move and I don't know if she is breathing through her mouth or talking.

I shift uncomfortably from left to right, then from heels to toes. I can't stand still, so my pacing begins when boredom sets in. I plan to wait until the song ends, but when will that be? In a minute? Two minutes? There is no good time to interrupt the queen, but I figure the best time is in between songs.

I physically show my impatience, attracting unwanted eyes and attention, all from people that I don't want to notice me. I deeply want her to see me and halt her affiliation with the queen. No one has managed to make me as jealous as her. It's an unsettling feeling, something I wish I didn't have to experience. Now I understand why Almarie was jealous of the queen.

I don't have the tolerance to wait around anymore, so I march over to where she is. I can only hope that I'm helping her, not hurting her.