HIDE

EPISODE 1 (The Past.) - THE LETTER AND ELIOT.

“You have a letter, sir.” His Assistant said, dropping a white envelope with a green seal in the middle of his table. She stood there waiting for his orders.

“That would be all, Patricia,” he said, waving her off.

He knew very well that people working for him were there because they haven't received better offers. They hated him with passion. If they had their way, they will quit on him. One of the things that even madden them was his rule of, ' at no point, under no circumstances, be it a matter of life or death is any female allowed to have physical contact with him.' That crawled them out. It was difficult to adhere to, but, it was his company, and they didn't have much of a choice but to stick to his rules.

He had paid his dues, worked his ass off and sacrificed a lot before he rose to that level. If they thought it was easy and that frivolity could lead them up the ladder, they might as well try. He wasn't stopping them. Nobody was. Since they've not gotten there, his world, his rules.

Swiveling his seat, he drew himself closer to the table, afraid of opening the letter. That particular letter. The last time a letter like that arrived, it changed him. The words, the handwriting, the attitude. He'd never seen anyone write meticulously. So careful with punctuation, playing with words and beautiful handwriting. Little did he know that it was coming with trouble. He could still remember that letter and him.

He shut his eyes and the first thing he saw was that letter, and he was back home to South Carolina, so many years ago, walking down the two-edged driveway, watching him step out of the cab, well-tailored black suit, sunglasses, glowing skin everywhere. And where it all started.

**********

I was still lost in admiring the height, the build and that face, I didn't even notice that he had left the cab to where I stood, shaking my hand, handing me his briefcase, removing his suitcase from the trunk of the cab, asking if my parents were home.

It started right there and then: the suit, cologne, the accent, and smile that kept flashing briefly. I knew it had to be him. The owner of that beautiful handwriting. The beautiful handwriting that I've not been able to get off my mind is here, not even to leave from the briefcase and suitcase he came with, he will be staying for at least a day or two or even more.

With his back already turned to the car, he waved the back of his free hand carelessly at the cab, not bothering to look back and see whether the driver responded or not. Just a wave and that was it.

I appreciate it when people pay attention to others. With my not so good history with my father, I think it shaped me into being grateful for every gesture of kindness and angry at rude and degrading gestures. What he just did, that mean and careless wave, already made me dislike him.

“Are you here to stay?” I blurted out. Hoping he would say that he was leaving immediately. I already couldn't put up with his presence. I wanted him away from here. For some reason, I was angrier with him than normal. Why did he do that? His looking brisk, bold, and blunted made my skin crawl. He doesn't look like the average guest that we let into our home. And for me questioning him about his stay, I prayed to the universe to make him forget that because if it ever got into my father's ears, that would be the end of me. I wasn't allowed to talk to strangers, get friendly with our guests, or even come outside. My one duty was to be voiceless and invisible.

“So bold. I like that,” he said, ruffling my hair like his obedient and loyal puppy.

I got myself away from his touch because it made me uncomfortable. Too uncomfortable.

“Forgive my manners. Eliot is the name, I am your parent's work associate. Concerning your question, I'll be here, with you, for the next six weeks.” He smiled.

Six weeks! I will have to put up with him for six long weeks. I was thoroughly intimidated because he was intimidating. Despite the fact he acted friendly, I wasn't feeling it. I just felt that I needed to be away from him. He was obviously the unapproachable sort but was acting all friendly with me.

I could grow to like him or, not. Anyway, what does it matter? It is not as if I'll get to see him often since I would spend most of the time away from him. But, where was he going to stay? Our house wasn't all that big, but it was home, and we were comfortable in it.

Our little house had four rooms. One for mom and dad, one for my two sisters and the other that served as storage and attic. It seemed I was the only odd one on the card because it all points down to the fact that I will have to leave my room for him. For six weeks I'd have to vacate my bedroom and move to the small room down the corridor which is also our part-time tool shed, storage room, and attic. That thought alone made me frown. It saddened my heart. My room was the one space that I had, where I was in control. No one told me what to do or not. I had peace there. And for some wealthy-looking stranger who could afford to stay anywhere else to come and take that away from me, wasn't a thing of joy.

“You need help with that?” Tapping my shoulder, “I said, do you need help with that?” He noticed that I was struggling with the suitcase.

“No, I am fine.” It wasn't the weight of the suitcase that was the problem but the weight in my heart.

Ignoring my response, he effortlessly took his suitcase from me, putting both the suitcase and briefcase in his left hand and taking my hand in his right hand. Almost walking me like a toddler who needed support.

My heart leapt with joy. Apart from my mother, I have never had such an experience. I always saw kids walking in that manner with their fathers, but whenever I reached for the hands of mine, he would often scold me. Saying, “things like that makes a man weak. You need to learn to stand on your own.” And he meant it and stood by his word. For once, not out of mistake or intentionally, did he hold me. The only hands I knew were that of my mother and my sisters.

“You are smiling. Why?” Looking ahead of the path, keeping his face blank like he didn't say anything.

“Nothing.” I covered up. I didn't realize that I was smiling.

We got to the house and my father was standing at the front door, angry. The anger was visible on his face. When his eyes moved away, and he saw the stranger, his face softened a bit.

“Ah, welcome, Eliot.” He gave his hand for a shake.

Eliot released my hand and took that of my father and shook.

“When did you arrive?” Helping him with his suitcase.

“Less than twenty minutes ago,” Eliot responded.

“I thought you were due to arrive tomorrow.”

“I wrote 24th on the letter, and today is 24th.”

“Oh, forgive my forgetfulness. I am dealing with a lot that I seem not to keep track of time anymore. If I had remembered, I would have picked you up at the airport myself.”

“It is fine. There is no need for that.” Leading me inside, “how is our very pregnant Sicilia?"

“She is well. Trying to adjust to the new addition.”

“It won't be easy, but I know you've got it. Since you were capable of handling three, you will equally survive the fourth, fifth and…”

“Let me stop you there, my friend. It is the fourth and last. No more.”

“That is a very wise decision you have made. You need to focus on the growth of the company. Four is enough.”

“True.” Sharing at Edward, who he was still angry with, “I take it that you've met Edward Jnr. I hope he wasn't a headache to you, as that is the only thing he is a professional in, making trouble.”

“Not at all. He is such a charmer. And a bold one at that. You have outdone yourself with this one.”

“Hmm, interesting.” Pointing to the sofa, “please, seat.”

“Thank you once again for inviting me to your home.”

“You are welcome. But there is no need for any more thanks. Your letter already did that.”

“The gratitude showed in person can never be anything compared to the one written on the letter.”

"Whether on a letter or in person, you are welcome anytime." Turning to me, "boy, get off there and find your sisters," halting me from moving, "Eliot, I know that you are tired and exhausted, what would you like to do first?"

"I would very much like to unpack, take a cold shower, sleep and then eat. I am exhausted."

"If that is the case, very well then." Drawing me close to him, "Wilson, ask Nana to help you clear your things out and move them to the spare bedroom. Ask Elizabeth to bring something cold for us."

"Sorry to interrupt, Morningstar, I would prefer to stay in the spare bedroom. You shouldn't make the boy leave his room for me. He will hate me for the rest of his life and only remember me as one who took his room away." Eliot protested.

"Not at all, Eliot. He is a boy and his feelings are irrelevant right now. What matters is to get you settled." Glaring at me.

Eliot was right. I am hurt and already hating him for coming. He is the reason why I am getting moved to somewhere smaller.

About to leave, "Wilson?" Eliot called out in an apologetic tone, "I hope you are not mad at me for this. I'll make it up to you." He pleaded.

"Oh, come on, Eliot. Stop apologising to the boy." My father said through gritted teeth.

"How old are you?" Eliot asked me, ignoring my father.

"Nine."

"What are you supposed to add after nine, Wilson?"

"Sir. Nine, Sir." I mumbled, leaving.

"Morningstar, you need to cut the boy some slack. First, you take away his room. Now you are scolding him for not calling me sir."

"You need to teach them right. What he doesn't learn now, he won't ever learn."

I overheard them argue. One thing that marvelled me was how Eliot spoke freely with my father, to the extent of standing up to him. Eliot must be important if not, he would have thrown him out of his house.

Later in the evening, I sat at the back of the house crying over my room. Nana had already helped me move my things and as I watched my belonging taken to another room, I was sad. I lost my appetite for the rest of the day, and I didn't want anyone to see me crying. Especially my father because he would beat me black and blue for doing so. "A man should never who his weakness and that include crying," he often said. I never saw him sad or cry. He always maintained a blank and cruel face.

"Hey, Wilison," a soft voice called me, rubbing my shoulders.

I knew who that voice belonged to and he was the last person I wanted to see right now. "Just go away."

"I have something that would make you feel better." Cleaning my face with his handkerchief that smelled so nice, "chocolate." He produced a large bar of chocolate from his breast pocket and handed it over to me. "Feel free to eat."

I have never had that before in my nine years and it looked so tasty. Without a second persuasion, "thank you," I began to lick and bite on my chocolate.

Laughing, "I take it that you have not had one before. I've lots of it and would give you more if you want to." Rubbing my shoulders again, "a wise man once told me that, when you are sad, go for chocolate or ice cream, it does wonder. I want to find out if what he said is true. Do you feel better?"

Smiling, "I do."

"Then, it worked."

"Yes, it did."

"Wilson, I am extremely sorry for barging into your life like this and taking away your room. If I had a choice, I would never have done that." Flushing, "I have got a great idea."

Looking down to the ground, "what is the idea?"

"How about we share the room. Feel free to always come in, sleep there, play there, whatever that is you did before there, you are free to do it. See it as your room. If you ever feel uncomfortable sleeping in the new one, we could switch. But you've to promise not to tell your father about any of this or whatever we do."

"I won't tell him."

"You have to swear it and we will seal it by taking a bite each from this fresh bar of chocolate."

"I swear not to tell my father of anything we do," he gave me the chocolate and I bite from it. He equally does so.

We sat in silence for a bit, "tell me what one does around here?"

"I don't really know. I stay at home mostly. Eat, play, draw and sleep. Maybe you should ask my sisters, they'll have a better idea."

"But, it is you that I love to ask..."

"Eliot?" My father's voice called.

"Oh, that is me. Your pop is calling." Leaving a kiss on my cheek, "see you around, beautiful boy." He smiled at me and I returned that smile.

I was too young to understand anything. The cues he was giving, his attitude towards me. Everything spoke something else but I didn't understand it.

When he left, I felt better. Maybe because of the chocolate or his presence but whichever it was, I felt better.

It was getting late and I had to go in, do my reading and come down for dinner. That night we are dinner and he bid me good night, kissing me on the cheek as he did earlier.

At dinner on his third evening, I sensed that he was staring at me as I was explaining my thought on dad's new development in the company. He decided to invest and launch a construction firm. He made me study all about construction.

Being the youngest at the table and the least likely to keep my father interested in what I was saying, I had to rush my words, speaking fast while I still had his interest.

After I had finished my explanation, I became aware of the keenest glance coming from my left. It thrilled and flattered me; he was obviously interested in what I was saying.

But when, after taking my time, I finally turned to face him, I met a cold and icy glare. At once, I looked down because It undid me completely. What had I done to deserve this? I wanted him to continue to be kind to me. To smile, laugh and appreciate me as he did. But, I wasn't getting that from him.

"You are smart and your explanation is intriguing. Why did you stop?" He finally asked?

"Because he gets that it has gotten boring. Enough with the food. Go to your room and study. Now!" My father slammed his hand on the table.

"Thank you for dinner, I need to rest now." He tossed his napkin aside and followed behind me.

We got to the corridor and as I was about to head into my room, he stopped me. "Can I please come in, Willson?"

"Sure," I murmured. What difference would it make if I tell him to go away? He was persistent and would never take no for an answer.

"Thank you," he said as I led him in. "Your room is beautiful."

Glaring at him, " you know too well that this is not my room."

"Am sorry. I take that back."

Sitting on my bed, "you can have the chair."

"Thank you."

"You know that my dad will punish me if he finds you in here."

"I know but I need to make sure that you are alright." Moving his seat closer to my bed, "I don't think that your explanation was in any way boring. In fact, I think if you keep going this way, studying hard, you will be greater than your dad and me." Standing, "you are going to be great." Loading a kiss on my cheek, "good night, Willson." He went to the door, turned back and looked at me briefly before he shut it behind him.