𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 ✓ (𝟷𝟾+)

The Project

"Yes dad.. I am fine.. I will talk to you in the evening." I whispered to him, hovering my phone close to my mouth and holding it in the protection of my palm.

"I will send someone to fetch you." He said, his sighed answer hitting the speaker.

Even after a legitimate attempt from me to hide my call, Mrs. Rose seemed to have noticed my covert operation of hiding into my desk, whispering like I was delivering nuclear codes over a call. She stood up from her place, her furrowed brows evaluating my lean into my chair.

"No need dad." I mumbled, trying hard to end the call. Mrs. Rose seemed to have noticed my sudden change in attitude. I rarely took personal calls in office. Given that I spent half my night talking to strangers,  detested calling friends and near family members. Text was my preferred mode of communication. "I can come home alone. Bye dad, talk later." I speed my words and ended the call, tossing up straight on my chair.

Mrs. Rose stood a few feet away, hands clasped over her chest as she walked the distance. Her lips curled up and pressed onto a side, one of her classier trademark smiles whenever she assumed there was more to the iceberg than the surface. In my case, it was true. But I was still not ready to reveal my true identity.

Waving my hands dismissively, I managed to topple over my coffee mug. "It's not what you think." I tried explaining my my face and eyes frozen over her while my peripheral vision cleaned up the spill.

Pulling out rolls of tissue up like some sort of animal, digging its way into the earth for hibernation, she moved over the spill and cleaned it in one swift motion. "I was young once too, Arin. I can understand.." She straightened, tossing the now brow liquid dripped ball of wetness into the trash.

The problem was, she literally didn't understand. What she assumed the caller to be, was exactly the opposite of who he was.

"It's not what you think.." I reiterated like a broken record, trying hard to conjure words from the air. 

Our bay till the pantry was barely ten feet away. I took hold of her elbow, tracing her path in parallel with mine and holding her hostage between the filing cabinets on the left and the brightly lit ally to the panty on the right. In between the smell of coffee bean roast aroma spreading through my senses and the musty smell of age old papers and documents from their filing cabinet morgue, I narrated the upheaval in my life since the day dad decided to contact me. 

By the end of my too much hand waving and nearly tearing up narration, Mrs. Rose dropped open her jaws and stared at me as I drowned in words and gestures. 

"Please say something," I begged as she stood still, a statue in astonishment. "Blink if I need me to call an ambulance for you."

She swat me with the back of her hand. I didn't hurt. I wouldn't even harm a fly.

"I am not that old you know." She said, blinking up constantly as her mind registered my dad's news. 

"I am sure you aren't but I wanted to ensure I don't kill you.."

She immediately moved to the most critical of all questions. "So how is he? Charles?"

My heart pounded while dad's kind act drifted through my mind. "He is the best, Mrs. Rose. He is.." and then I chocked on my words.

Tears brimmed my eyes. She held her palms to her mouth, like she was hoping for a miracle and it happened. An orphaned child found her father. A kind, caring man. 

She trapped me in the clutches of her hand and body, patting my head and airing her words. "I am so happy for you child. You deserve all the happiness in the world."