Asher
Former Vent Rat
The call ended at the press of a button and just like that the single most painful call I had ever gotten at that point in my life was over. I leaned back in my chair for a moment to truly let the news sink in, but no matter what I did -- and no matter what I would have done -- the outcome would have been the same. My head would have still slumped into my hands as my elbows propped themselves against the edge of my desk. What else was I supposed to do? Tears began to run down my cheeks and no matter how hard I tried to make them stop it was as if someone had turned the valve to open the floodgates.
The hands that had been covering my eyes dragged themselves along my cheeks to to wipe away the river of tears. It felt wrong, but a small part of me wasn’t sure if I was truly sad or not. Me and my father didn’t have the best of relationships in the end. The way I had departed after the first invasion of Alderaan tore great rifts between us, yet losing Kana was merely a small part of the reasons. Which surprised me at first. The chances of this happening so close to the ten year ‘anniversary’ of her death was most likely a coincidence. At least I hoped so, but the fact that the officer in the phone call made mention of an unknown blonde suspect had me thinking otherwise.
It still amazes me how I took the news. I cried for twenty minutes before getting my head back in the game again, or the very least least tried to. My finger shakily pressed itself against the cold surface of the intercom and I buzzed my assistant. She picked up but I let the silence linger. I was paralyzed, distraught and most of all confused.
Why now?
“Prepare the interns for... Whatever we've trained them for.” I finally managed to sobbed my way through a complete sentence. “And get me another case of the twelve year special.”
“Mister Truden, are you...” I heard it in her voice. She wasn’t sure what had happened. Truth be told I wasn’t either. “Are you okay?”
“No.” I muttered underneath my breath before I hung up. “I am not.”
My head buried itself deep in my hands again as my elbows took their place along the edges of my desk once more. It was weird that in a sense I wasn’t sad because I felt like I had lost someone as much as I felt sad because somehow that was what I know to be expected of me. I knew that wasn’t the case, even an estranged son can hold his father dear despite their great differences, but it was just a shame that the more I thought on it the more the realization that I would never be able to tell actually him that was able to sink in. Perhaps that was the true reason I was being saddened by the whole ordeal, a sense of my own self-pity over the fact that I was no longer able to potentially make things right.
It was kind of like seeing another kid play a toy that you had never really played with but all of a sudden wanted to play with because you no longer could have it. The other kid was now playing with my ability to seek consolation with my own father.
The door to my office hissed and for a moment I was forced out of my solemn mood by the approaching figure of my secretary. The glass bottle gently slid along the surface of my desk and my eyes remained staring at the golden liquids contained within it for a second. I knew that drinking in a situation such as this wouldn’t bring me anything I’d wake up happy to, but at the same time it was an easy escape from having to deal with the uncertainty of what remained ahead me.
“What’s wrong, Mister Truden?” Her soft voice brought me up in an effort to achieve eye contact, but just the mere tilt of my head felt like a mountain climb. “Being forced to find yourself a replacement so soon?”
“My father is dead.” I announced to her as if stating it as bluntly as possible would make it all the better. “Suspicious circumstances with only one suspect.”
I heard her gasp, the step back.
“Oh no. I am so sorry, Eli.” You could hear it in her voice; guilt. Part of me felt just as equally bad about it. Maybe I should have done something else to inform her, but at the time it felt like the best way to do it. “I didn’t mean to...”
I didn’t offer her any response, I merely nodded my head in affirmation to show some sort of understanding that I knew what she meant. I continued to stare at the bottle as the woman’s form hid behind the corner of my eye. I grabbed a hold of the bottleneck, my hand placed itself firmly on the cap and with a gentle twist I could hear the plastic cover break open. I unscrewed it. I put it to my lips and tilted my head and bottle ever so slightly backwards. My throat grew thicker in anticipation for the burn and my eyes shut in premature delight, yet all I found was the soft touch of another hand upon my own as the bottle was lowered.
My lips longingly followed in disappointment but the chase proved itself pointless. My eyes opened again and there she was: High heels, green knee dress and her hair done up in a loose bun yet something felt different. It wasn’t in her eyes, the blue-gray stare that poked at me for a reaction I didn’t know if I could provide. What was wrong was that she wasn’t smiling. She almost always was, but not today. I wanted to ask why, but before I could do anything I found myself surrounded by the arms of my secretary. I felt like there were rules against things such as these but if so, perhaps ‘grief’ was an acceptable exception.
(Besides, I still had my suspicions Darell took it to a whole other level when compared to me. Call it a gut feeling.)
I buried my face in her shoulder and let it all out with no dignity spared from the onslaught of emotion. She was still using the lavender-like scent that I had grown so accustomed to from last year’s share-holder's conference. Without looking I placed the bottle on the desk in order to let my hand place between her shoulders.
“He’s gone.” I muttered into the soft fabric of her dress.
She didn’t offer much of a response at first. I didn’t blame her for it either, it wasn’t every day that your boss would cry his eyes out on your shoulder. Not every day said boss’ father died either. I let the moment last for as long as I could. I felt better knowing she was there and that she was giving me the support that I needed. It was what friends did and I was fairly certain the board would understand if I took some time off for this, but for now I lingered.
The months ahead were bound to be excruciating and I would much rather spend it alone with my friends than alone in my office. At least for the first few weeks. After that, I didn't really know yet.
The hands that had been covering my eyes dragged themselves along my cheeks to to wipe away the river of tears. It felt wrong, but a small part of me wasn’t sure if I was truly sad or not. Me and my father didn’t have the best of relationships in the end. The way I had departed after the first invasion of Alderaan tore great rifts between us, yet losing Kana was merely a small part of the reasons. Which surprised me at first. The chances of this happening so close to the ten year ‘anniversary’ of her death was most likely a coincidence. At least I hoped so, but the fact that the officer in the phone call made mention of an unknown blonde suspect had me thinking otherwise.
It still amazes me how I took the news. I cried for twenty minutes before getting my head back in the game again, or the very least least tried to. My finger shakily pressed itself against the cold surface of the intercom and I buzzed my assistant. She picked up but I let the silence linger. I was paralyzed, distraught and most of all confused.
Why now?
“Prepare the interns for... Whatever we've trained them for.” I finally managed to sobbed my way through a complete sentence. “And get me another case of the twelve year special.”
“Mister Truden, are you...” I heard it in her voice. She wasn’t sure what had happened. Truth be told I wasn’t either. “Are you okay?”
“No.” I muttered underneath my breath before I hung up. “I am not.”
My head buried itself deep in my hands again as my elbows took their place along the edges of my desk once more. It was weird that in a sense I wasn’t sad because I felt like I had lost someone as much as I felt sad because somehow that was what I know to be expected of me. I knew that wasn’t the case, even an estranged son can hold his father dear despite their great differences, but it was just a shame that the more I thought on it the more the realization that I would never be able to tell actually him that was able to sink in. Perhaps that was the true reason I was being saddened by the whole ordeal, a sense of my own self-pity over the fact that I was no longer able to potentially make things right.
It was kind of like seeing another kid play a toy that you had never really played with but all of a sudden wanted to play with because you no longer could have it. The other kid was now playing with my ability to seek consolation with my own father.
The door to my office hissed and for a moment I was forced out of my solemn mood by the approaching figure of my secretary. The glass bottle gently slid along the surface of my desk and my eyes remained staring at the golden liquids contained within it for a second. I knew that drinking in a situation such as this wouldn’t bring me anything I’d wake up happy to, but at the same time it was an easy escape from having to deal with the uncertainty of what remained ahead me.
“What’s wrong, Mister Truden?” Her soft voice brought me up in an effort to achieve eye contact, but just the mere tilt of my head felt like a mountain climb. “Being forced to find yourself a replacement so soon?”
“My father is dead.” I announced to her as if stating it as bluntly as possible would make it all the better. “Suspicious circumstances with only one suspect.”
I heard her gasp, the step back.
“Oh no. I am so sorry, Eli.” You could hear it in her voice; guilt. Part of me felt just as equally bad about it. Maybe I should have done something else to inform her, but at the time it felt like the best way to do it. “I didn’t mean to...”
I didn’t offer her any response, I merely nodded my head in affirmation to show some sort of understanding that I knew what she meant. I continued to stare at the bottle as the woman’s form hid behind the corner of my eye. I grabbed a hold of the bottleneck, my hand placed itself firmly on the cap and with a gentle twist I could hear the plastic cover break open. I unscrewed it. I put it to my lips and tilted my head and bottle ever so slightly backwards. My throat grew thicker in anticipation for the burn and my eyes shut in premature delight, yet all I found was the soft touch of another hand upon my own as the bottle was lowered.
My lips longingly followed in disappointment but the chase proved itself pointless. My eyes opened again and there she was: High heels, green knee dress and her hair done up in a loose bun yet something felt different. It wasn’t in her eyes, the blue-gray stare that poked at me for a reaction I didn’t know if I could provide. What was wrong was that she wasn’t smiling. She almost always was, but not today. I wanted to ask why, but before I could do anything I found myself surrounded by the arms of my secretary. I felt like there were rules against things such as these but if so, perhaps ‘grief’ was an acceptable exception.
(Besides, I still had my suspicions Darell took it to a whole other level when compared to me. Call it a gut feeling.)
I buried my face in her shoulder and let it all out with no dignity spared from the onslaught of emotion. She was still using the lavender-like scent that I had grown so accustomed to from last year’s share-holder's conference. Without looking I placed the bottle on the desk in order to let my hand place between her shoulders.
“He’s gone.” I muttered into the soft fabric of her dress.
She didn’t offer much of a response at first. I didn’t blame her for it either, it wasn’t every day that your boss would cry his eyes out on your shoulder. Not every day said boss’ father died either. I let the moment last for as long as I could. I felt better knowing she was there and that she was giving me the support that I needed. It was what friends did and I was fairly certain the board would understand if I took some time off for this, but for now I lingered.
The months ahead were bound to be excruciating and I would much rather spend it alone with my friends than alone in my office. At least for the first few weeks. After that, I didn't really know yet.