The Gray Case

four

They are sitting around their table in their sophisticated dining room. Art is hung up on the beige colored walls, while two white marble statues stand next to the door. Joseph, the house's butler for several years now, stands next to the statues, his head high and his ears open, waiting for Mark to dismiss him.

The fine crystal chandelier lights up the room while conversation is dead.

His dad seats at the head of the table, next to Alexander and his stepmother Margaret. His stepbrother, Ryan, sits in front of him.

His brown eyes meet Alexander's and his lips curve in a smirk of understanding. They both have always gotten along well, although Ryan came into the family just four years ago.

"Thank you, Joseph. You can leave now," Mark says, his voice deep and stern.

Alicia makes sure to place the food perfectly on the table, Alexander smiles to her while she puts food on his plate.

Alexander has a special relationship with Joseph and Alicia, they're almost like his mom and dad. They've known each other for years and they've seen him mature, from being a little boy to being the young man he is.

They've seen him happy, angry, afraid, sad; they've dealt with every part of him.

They have seen him suffer after his mother's death and helped him go through it, they still do. And until death parts them, they will continue to do so.

"Thank you," Alexander says and Alicia smiles.

She then exits the room and closes the door silently. The room is quiet again, the only sounds come from the silver cutlery on the plates.

On top of the white organza tablecloth there is the porcelain centerpiece of the same color, adorned by gold details. The precious vase was bought by Margaret when she was in Egypt. Inside of it are conserved fresh white tulips, enhancing its beauty.

She finally speaks, after wiping her mouth with a hand-embroidered beige napkin.

"How was school today?" She then picks up her fork again and proceeds to eat.

"It was okay, I guess..." Alexander says nonchalantly.

"Horrible, as every school day, mom," Ryan answered, dropping his fork on the table.

"Oh, come on Ryan," Margaret replied. They really look alike.They have the same brown eyes and the same nose, but while Ryan's hair is chestnut, Margaret's is blonde.

"What?" He rolls his eyes, before going back to eating. Ryan's the witty type, that's just how he is.
Alexander's dad finally speaks again, turning to him.

"What about Sofia? Haven't seen her in a while."

Alexander raises his head to look at him. "She's actually coming over tonight."

"Why didn't you invite her to eat with us?" Margaret asks, sipping a little bit of red wine.

"I didn't think about it," Alexander says before cutting a piece of his steak.

Mark nods and everything is silent again. Alexander immediately thinks about how this scenario is so different from what dinner used to be years ago, when his mom was still alive.

They used to have heated conversations about everything. Amelia, Alexander's mother, loved talking about life and the beauty of it. He still remembers how her green eyes would light up when her son was happy, how her black hair moved in the wind when she would take him to the park, to picnics and to the lake.

He still remembers how hard his mother loved his dad. How their connection was almost tangible. How every single day was different and unexpected, because she was.

She was new every day, she blossomed for them every day. But once her heart stopped beating and her blood ran cold, there was no turning back.

She left and everything slowly died.

After years of recovering and loneliness, his father ended up with a completely different person than what Amelia was. Not that Margaret is a bad stepmother, but she definitely is different.

Mark has changed, too. Not that he has turned into a bad person and not that he doesn't love his current wife, but his eyes aren't as bright and he works a lot more.

"So, Anthony and I decided to host a little party this Wednesday to celebrate how well the company is going, I would like you to be there," Mark announced, "Alex, you can bring Sofia if you want."

Anthony is one of his dad's friends, but also his Co-worker. He basically runs the business with his dad, although Mark is the boss.

"Little party? A little party of a couple hundred people, basically," Alexander says, grabs a green apple and takes a bite of it.

"Basically," his dad answers, smiling.

"I'll be there," Alexander says with his mouth full.

"Don't chew with your mouth open!" Margaret exclaims.

"I'm sorry, won't happen again," he says, purposefully chewing louder. Margaret makes a disgusted face, shaking her head. Alexander then stands up, heading to the living room.

He places the hood of his grey hoodie on his head and a few strands of his hair fall on his forehead. He plops on the big black couch in front of the fireplace and turns on the TV.

How on earth could they think about throwing a party right now? When there's someone out there that just tried to kill him.

Someone out there wants him dead.

Alexander sighs, but his thoughts are interrupted by the doorbell.
He stands up and heads to the door, opening up without looking or asking who is out there.

He knows already.

Sofia. He welcomes her with a small smile, but she wants more, so she kisses him immediately.

The kiss ends quickly and before they know it they are in his room, on his bed, simply cuddling.

"So, my dad's throwing this party on Wednesday... You want to come?" Alexander asks, even though he already knows the answer.

Of course she's going to say yes. That's just her type of environment. Rich people drinking expensive wine and eating the best food cooked by the best chefs.

"Sure, why not." Her voice is muffled, her head rests on his chest.

"Good."

She then places her warm hand on his shoulder and wraps her legs around him—her body is on top of his.

Her kisses start from his collarbone and go up to his neck, her lips touch on his cheeks before uniting with his.

"I've missed this," she says through rapid kisses. His hands move to her back, holding her even closer. They try to catch their breath every once in a while. Everything is dim and subtle, the moments they live come and go, sense and rationality are lost in lust.

They touch, but do they feel?

The rest is history.

***

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