CHAPTER 9
1617 Words
Tatiana's POV
It's had been three weeks since I had that awful dream at Tori's salon. Till date, I can't comprehend what it means. The past few weeks involved me working on my bond with Iris: a relationship I wasn't willing to lose, and keeping in touch with Mrs. Walker for the birthday preparation.
Balancing both wasn't an easy task since I couldn't afford to leave room for any suspicions from Cyril. I managed to play my cards right while I patiently waited for the D-Day: Cyril's surprise birthday party.
The day finally came, and I was currently at Cyril's best friend, Ortis's residence. His wife Lara, and I were handling the decorations while Mrs. Walker catered for the food preparations, alongside the cake, with assistance from their professional chefs.
Lara and I were sent on an errand to get more scented candles, balloons and ribbons, which we did. Everyone, including the domestic staff, participated in the preparations in one way or the other. Each one of us had a role to play, which we performed effortlessly.
The anticipation that filled us was indescribable. We were all soaked in happiness. Our occasional chit-chats and the solemn rhythms of classical music, which heightened our speculations about the outcome of a surprise, ruled out any iota of boredom that lurked.
I was so engrossed in setting up the balloons until my eyes chanced upon Iris and Mrs. Walker. The two surprisingly shared a slight resemblance. I could see Mrs. Walker's eyes are those of Iris. Interestingly enough, I hadn't noticed that until now.
I watched both of them as Mrs. Walker, with her arms stretched wide, welcomed Iris with a warm hug, while placing her on her lap. Iris only stared at her closely without speaking, but from where I stood I could tell she was saying something with her eyes.
If only Mrs. Walker could see it and hear it too like I could.
I had no idea the kind of relationship they both shared: whether it was a strict adult-and-child relationship or a lovely, sweet grandmother kind of relationship. So I had no idea if she could feel how I felt with Iris.
Whatever it was, it seemed wholesome to me. The Iris I knew would never warm herself up to anyone. I only knew this due to my experience of developing that special bond with her. Hence, it warmed my heart that not only was she comfortable with me, but comfortable with her grandmother as well.
I didn't know what it was like for Cyril. He was always busy with his business. I couldn't place my finger on any reason in particular. I just didn't believe he loved his daughter as much as he ought to.
Just imagine how he had no idea his daughter could paint.
How is that even possible?
I was embarrassed on his behalf.
Yet he had the nerve to yell at me and call me names.
He is so lucky that I've grown so attached to Iris.
It's amazing how the love I have for her restraints me from reacting to his provocations.
If not for that and how incredible his conditions of service were, I would have dropped my resignation letter a long time ago.
But I can't do that to Iris.
She needs me.
Even though her egoistic father doesn't.
I hate his guts, but I cherished his daughter like my own. My aim was to get her to be that lively girl once again. I never had the chance to meet her before her trauma, so I obviously had no clue about her personality. I was only depending on hearsays from Cyril(indirectly), and her home-school teacher.
As such, anytime I saw her feeling free and being more open, I felt intense joy within myself.
“There's hope for you, my darling” I whispered silently to myself.
***
It was 8pm when Ortis announced that Cyril was stuck in traffic on his way to the estate. Everything was in order. The only element that was missing was the birthday celebrant. I honestly couldn't wait to see the look on Cyril's face when he arrives and sees us.
We were all seated in the garden waiting for Cyril. Other guests, like his business associates, friends and relatives, were all present. The cold breeze and the mixture of soft cools from the speakers made the night a pleasurable one to look up to.
The lighting on the pathway was magnificent. It added to the glamour of the setting. The garden was an open space that was surrounded by different species of flowers. They ranged from roses to sunflowers to daisies.
I was told Ortis's wife, Lara, was a flower enthusiast. This revelation made me understand why flowers dominated vital spaces like their kitchen and their living room in their mansion. There was absolutely no doubt that the house was designed by a big-time interior designer and a florist.
The view of the lavishly landscaped garden was breathtakingly gorgeous. The glittering pool on the other side of the mansion sparked a sense of longing within me. I loved my simple life because I was used to it.
However, being here, bearing witness on this occasion, where I was seated among people of a higher social class like I was one of them, brought me to an unbelievable realisation.
I could also aspire to be like them.
To be in a position where I could afford whatever I wanted for myself and others.
Rather than always depending on my bestie who, without doubt, would gladly help.
But for how long am I going to be depending on her?
I don't think she minds, but I still feel the need to help myself.
It had finally dawned on me that I could also want better for myself instead of always waiting on Tori to help me. I needed to find my way to my independence and if networking with these rich people was going to serve as a gateway for me, I had to grab the opportunity as much as possible.
I had distracted myself by scrolling through my i********: feed when I heard Lara's voice directed at Ortis, who stood far from where she was at the moment. The two were sitting together at a table before Ortis moved away to answer a phone call.
I guess it's from Cyril.
I wonder what's keeping him.
“Is Cyril almost here?” she asked. “I hope you're not assuming he will,” she said.
“Well, he should be here any moment from now, I believe,” Ortis replied, walking in her direction.
“And what if he doesn't?” I asked.
With his back facing me and his front facing Lara, he responded “he will.”
***
Chris drove me to Cyril's favourite pub while he waited for me in the car. Cyril got to the party and strangely disappeared. Nobody knew where he had gone to. His reaction, when he arrived, threw us all in a wave of shock.
What kind of person runs away from his birthday celebration?
Especially one that was organised by his mother, best friends, and, in short, his loved ones.
Looks like there's more to him than what I know.
Somebody tell me!
I really need to know who on this planet does that?
Who is he hiding from?
I don't even know how to feel.
This is both sad and annoying at the same time!
I walked through the entrance of the pub hoping to find him. I went straight to the bar tender to ask if he knew Cyril.
“Of course I do.” The bar tender replied. “He owns this place, duhh” he blurted out. “He hasn't been here today.”
So he owns this place?
Wow, that's incredible.
I wonder what other properties he owns.
Of course, he is a billionaire for this reason.
What did I expect?
I thanked him and nodded my head. I called his phone, yet there was no response. I called Chris to find out if he had been able to reach him. His mother also called me to ask if I had heard from him. I only assured her I'd give her a heads-up as soon as I did.
Everyone was worried sick. For the first time, I started feeling sorry for him. I wondered if he was okay or if something terrible had happened to him. He didn't look well to me when he rushed out.
I got back inside the car and we continued our search. We entered as many places as we could. We searched through restaurants, hotels, clubs. We didn't think he could go that far. But unfortunately all our search was in vain. He was nowhere to be found.
He drove his car and Ortis had given Chris one of his cars, a Mercedes-Benz. We continued our journey through the still night in search of Cyril.
Where on earth could this man be?
Why do I feel so angry like a dog owner looking for a lost puppy?
I'm getting frustrated.
I'm beginning to find this whole act of his very childish.
We were about to give up our search, when I noticed a car similar to that of Cyril's. It was parked in front of a motel. On the street adjacent to the motel, there was a pub. It stood out from the rest of the places we had gone to.
It was eerily quiet. When I walked to the entrance, I saw a shadow of a man. I was still quite far away so I couldn't see his face.
Could that be Cyril?
- Writer
