Chapter 17: The Ball and Chain
I slipped the piece of paper underneath the wooden bar and looked at the young man. He wore a mailers hat but his eyes told no lies of his true ambition. They drifted across my face and I saw his cheeks flush. Tilting my head to the side, I looked down at the paper and then back up to him.
Startling from his gaze, he blinked a few times orientating himself. The whole ordeal would have amused me enough to introduce him to Finn, but my baby brother had his eyes set on someone already. The mailing boy swallowed and took the piece of paper, his eyes scanned the lettering on the page. Once the message got through, he looked to me and nodded once curtly. All light gone from his eyes now.
Exiting the booth, he went behind the boxes and bags of letters and documents that would make the weeks mail. He spoke to a taller grey haired man and after both looked at me, they walked out of the building from a door to the side of my viewpoint. I turned around and walked out of the booth only to meet both the man and the boy.
The wooden crate sat next to my awaiting carriage and all three of us looked at it like it was an unknown species that danced its way down from the sky.
"Won't be cheap," the older man grunted. He reached in his overall pocket and brought out a cigar and a box of matches. Lighting the end, I looked at the ember glow before seeing the smoke push from his mouth. His accent gave way to his poverty, a southside slant to the end of his words.
"I'm sure there's enough post in that box to feed your whole family cigars, sir." My lips curled down and the young boy shifted on his feet, looking at the ground and not knowing what to do with his hands.
The tone of my voice made the old man walk ahead and tap the wooden crate with the edge of his tapered boot. "Didn't mean no post, sir. Meant the business. Working in em shadows ain't ever cheap. Not just regular post in ere."
It wasn't a question.
I tilted my head and looked at the ends of his beard. Burnt, from potentially fire or drink. Either way, I could tell an addict from a mile away. My house was a vipers nest full of them. A feeling of pity sank to the bottom of my stomach, realizing I would be funding this mans slow death. Yet, I couldn't find another mailing company because this one had liaisons with my father and they knew to keep the invitees and the events itself under wraps.
I reached into my coat pocket and brought out a small black pouched wrapped in leather string. The string itself could be sold for a handful of bread. I walked to the younger boy and saw him jump in his feet when I knelt down and took his hand. I felt his eyes where my hands were and could feel the heated stare of the old man on my back.
I opened his palm and placed the pouch in the middle of it. "Get it done."
It was only a couple weeks before the Waitstill Gala panned out in front of my own eyes
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It was only a couple weeks before the Waitstill Gala panned out in front of my own eyes. There was a bustling aura in the whole manor that kept the servants and masters on edge for completely different reasons. The only room that was quiet enough to get away from the noise was my mother's music room. Ironically, It usually always is.
I looked at the chiming clock on the side of the music room and knew I should make my way down to the dining hall before Link gets issued to come collect me.
When my father called for a family dinner, it was potentially one of two immediate reasons; he had something that needed to be done or he needed to inform us of something that he's already done.
I walked down the hallway and heard the dinner plates coming in. My brothers and sister was already seated at the table, with my father at the head. They were deep in discussion when I came in and took the vacant seat they left by my father's right.
I looked down and saw Kitten already seated at the left side of my chair. She had her hands on her lap and her head facing the floor. She was wearing a pale pink wrap but I could see the bandages that lined her back through the material. She had her hair neatly atop her head in a bun but the small strands that fell in front of her flushed ears let me know this was my Kitten.
I pulled my chair in after taking a seat and reached down to tuck the strands behind her ear. She flinched with the contact but I saw her body relax at the realization that it was me. There was something different about her tonight, her body more reserved and her eyes more distant.
I looked up at the table when I heard my name. I looked to the point of origin and saw my father looking at me expectedly. Almost like the room came out of its silence, and my hearing plugged back in, I heard the tail end of the question.
"-assume you did that this morning, Micah?"
I saw Radella come out with platters of entrees and nodded. "Yes, the invites are out."
"No problem," he spoke while gesturing for the servants to start serving us. "I thought the supposed council would be reaching all the service jobs, from the urgency of your insistence that we move the date."
Like a reflex, I looked at where Finn sat. He had already been looking at me and the cold mask he usually puts on dropped for an instant and I saw the glimpse of affliction. If Father saw the ordeal, he didn't comment on it. Instead, I casually look at my plate and the dark hand that was placing shavings of something before replying.
"It turns out for the right sum of money, anything is attainable."
"You speak you didn't already know this," this voice came from the other side of the table. Elle had her eyes on the retreating kitchen staff. She turned to look at me, the same sadness in her eyes that she shared with my youngest brother.
"It's a sad reality when I get reminded of it every so often."
Like I sealed the room with silence, we ate our appetizers in silence. The occasional question from my father and the curt reply from whomever it was addressed to. Once the main course arrived, the tension in the room was palpable. The time was now. Never during the start of the dinner because that would be cumbersome. Never at dessert because anyone could leave abruptly having finished the dinner. The main course was my Father's calculated time.
The metaphorical gun cocked.
"I've made a purposive invite list for this gala," he spoke with a certain calm. The same that came when a person jumped off a bridge. That strain that followed was thick enough to choke a stranegr to death.
I kept my eyes on my plate and forced myself to fill my fork with food. I looked down at Kitten and saw that she was paying as much attention as the rest of the table. Whatever this news was, it would affect one and all.
"As we all know, Finn is reaching of age and we must commemorate it with our benefactors and patrons," he turned his head and spoke directly to Finn. "Like Theodore and Micah's, your adulthood will be sealed and people shall call you a man grown."
Finn spoke of nothing. I could see his pet trying to console him underneath the table, but his eyes stared daggers on his plate.
But this couldn't have been the news he brought us down for. Not when it was inevitable, and we had already known about it. Formal dinners rang with intention.
I heard the trigger move in my mind.
"But this annual gala shall also be the mark of something more," my father turned to me and every cell in my body bit cold. This made every head turn up and look. Wait for the next words. It felt like everyone in the room wanted to scream for different purposes. Everyone save for my Father. Who had his whore on his knee and the safety of not having to approach any sad realities with every sip of liquor he pulled.
His eyes set on me like the bullet on a target. "This gala shall be when our Micah chooses a suitable lady that shall be his wife."
The gun shot.
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