If Things Should Stay the Same

Chapter 18: Brewing

Roughly a meter adjacent to where he sat were two empty chairs positioned side by side while the lower half of the walls were all installed with shelves that housed countless of identical-looking leather-bound notebooks. The thicker and heavier layer of the curtains were drawn back, allowing the soft rays of the sun to permeate the room through the thin drapes that covered the windows.

The constant sound of pages ruffling against each other being the only noise in the room, he cleared his throat to gain the attention of the man at the desk who seemed preoccupied with sifting through several stacks of papers. When the older man barely even stirred from his activity, he then spoke softly as if hesitating to break the former's concentration, "Father?"

"Ah, Alex! So how is your review for the upcoming entrance exams coming along?" His father momentarily looked up from what he was doing and smiled, the incandescent glow of the lamp on the table highlighting the wrinkles that were slowly creeping into his forehead. Maybe Alex had never noticed it before but he could see faint silver patches on his father's scalp, making the latter appear older than what memory pictured him to be.

The older man's fingers quickly resumed their incessant dancing to leaf over sheet after sheet of paper. His eyes were intently peering through the lenses of his thick-framed spectacles, scanning the fine print of the documents he held in his hands as well as those that he had spread out on the desk. Without even lifting his glance from what he was doing, he pressed a button of the remote control at the far edge of the table, amplifying the faint whooshing from the air conditioner overhead and adding a dull hum in the otherwise largely-quiet room.

"It's coming along nicely. So far, so good." Alex nodded, pressing his lips together. Sometimes, he wondered why most adults – including his father – had a terrible choice of generic conversation starters. Or this was just what parents do best: worry on their children and their choices for the future.

"As expected. You seem confident about getting into the best medical schools of this country." Letting out an inaudible gasp as if he had found what he was looking for, his father then began to scribble on the area just beyond the margins of the piece of paper he had been so fixated with mere seconds ago. "I should've gotten Aiden to send this off yesterday," he mumbled to no one in particular as his pen scratched on its surface.

Responding tartly to the original comment directed at him, Alex folded his arms and snorted, "Are you saying I shouldn't be confident in what I do?"

"Overconfidence hastens one's downfall, Alex. You really need to learn from other people's mistakes and not wait to learn from your own." The sound of his mother's voice startled him.

He immediately turned around to see her striding towards him in a casual business attire, her heels making a clumping noise on the carpeted floor as the door to the room silently closed behind her.

Although she looked as radiant as ever, he felt it was strange to see his mother not in her usual get-up of fancy dresses. Even her hair with slight curls she often left dangling up to her shoulders was in a tight bun to compliment her corporate outfit. Compared to the vivacious celebrity of a mother he was used to seeing as he grew up, she exuded a stern no-nonsense air that was further reinforced by her default facial expression of appearing unamused and ready to silence an idiot's banter with a slap.

"M-m-mother?" Alex gulped down the lump that was surprise forming in his throat. He was not expecting to see her at home during this time of the day. Especially when she would be normally out with her friends in various coffee shops and restaurants engaged in animated conversations concerning politics, business, local gossip and the like.