The Heir

Chapter 2 A New Life, a New Identity

" Can you pass me that tray, love?" Clara's voice pierced through the low murmur of the café as I stood frozen, gaping at the storming cups of coffee lined up on the counter.

I blinked, my brain laggardly, still fitting the pieces together of this life. It is n't me, I allowed , my fingers tracing along the rough edges of the rustic counter at the café. I'd formerly held things that were gold- plated, had walked in places with the scent of leather and flashing marble. And then now, all ceramic mugs were cheap; and the moping bread banal.

" I — uh." I stammered, my mind trying to make a connection." Right. Sure." I reached for the tray and nearly dropped it- my hands felt like lead, and I had to purposely suppose about how to hold something so simple.

Clara, ever easy- going, simply smiled as if this was the way effects always were.

I could not help but notice how different she was from. well, everything I'd known. She had this royal grace, no frills, no pretenses. The kind of woman who could make a simple apron look like the most natural thing in the world. Unlike the polished, put- together women I'd been used to, Clara was. real. And that reality was starting to bite at me, in a way that left me questioning things I did not indeed understand.

" You okay there, Sebastian?" Clara asked, her brow furrowing just slightly, noticing my hesitation.

I gave her a half- hearted smile, hoping I could mask the churning in my stomach." Yeah, just. getting used to this." I gestured a hand at the cluttered café. The creaky floorboards, the hum of the espresso machine, the c***k of an old clock on the wall. It was all wrong, like I was someone differently's actor.

Clara gave a small chuckle, setting a cappuccino mug down with a soft clink on the counter." It's a lot to get used to. But you will get the knack. You just need time."

" Yeah, time," I murmured under my breath. Time. How important was left for me? either, was time enough to cure what had been damaged inside me?

I set the tray down on the counter with a little too important force, the sound too loud in the else quiet room. Clara did n’t feel to notice, however.

" Then, I’ll get this," she said, taking the charger and moving to serve the table.

I watched her walk down, that familiar vexation crawling beneath my skin. I had so much better than this formerly. I merited better than this. But for some reason, something about Clara- something about her kindness- had me questioning whether I really did.

" Sebastian, you good?" Clara's voice cut into my conscious thought; I looked up and set up her observing me hardly. There was subtle concern etched into her eyes, like she saw past the facade.

" Yeah. Just. thinking," I said a bit too hastily. I did not want to partake what was outside.

Clara jounced, to not push me, but her eyes really noway left mine. It was as if she awaited for something- something I did not indeed know I was supposed to give.

I goggled down at the counter, my mind racing. Who the hell was I now?

" Do you ever miss it?" she asked suddenly, nearly as if reading my mind.

" Miss what?"

" Your old life," Clara explained, her tone casual, but I could hear the curiosity in it. She was not judging, just asking." The one before you came then. Must've been relatively different, huh?"

I smelled in a breath." You could say that."

Clara smiled vocally, like she knew just how hard it was to let go of something that defined you. She did not push, did not prod; she just granted me a moment of peace that felt. strange.

" I am not asking you to forget, Sebastian," she said vocally." I just suppose you might find something here. Something you did not indeed know you demanded."

I goggled at her, the words heavy against my chest. I did not know what to say. In any case, I was not indeed sure I wanted to say anything.

Before I could utter a word, the bell above the door jangled, and in walked a couple of farmers from around the area, their boots thumping on the rustic floor toward the counter.

Clara moved without missing a beat, drinking them with her warm smile, taking their order with rehearsed ease.

I watched her work, a strange ache forming in my chest. The life I’d known, the life I’d cleaved to, felt so far down now. And the life Clara offered — this simple, predicated existence — sounded incredibly distant, yet. tempting.

" Hey, Sebastian, can you help me with the back storage?" Clara's voice broke through my musing, the sound jerking me back into the present.

" Yeah, sure." I jounced, getting up from the counter.

As we moved into the back room, Clara dragging a set of boxes down from a shelf, I watched her work in her fluid and natural way. And for the first time since I'd arrived then, I felt something. real.

Something that did not feel like a half- flashed back dream. Something that made me want to stay.

" Clara, about what you said before," I started, my voice low.

She broke for a moment, glancing over at me, before continuing to arrange the boxes." What about it?"

I did not know how to put it into words, this strange shift inside me." Do you suppose people can really change?"

Clara eventually looked at me with a reflective expression." I suppose change starts when you decide you want it. But. I do not know. People have to want it for themselves. They've to be willing to fight for it."

I did not say anything for a while, the weight of her words too heavy in my mind. Was I ready to fight for something? Anything?

Before I could answer, the sound of screaming tires outside pierced the air.

" Was that —" Clara began, eyes zipping toward the window.

I set the weight of something unsettling creeping up my chine. The car door slammed shut, and through the café's window, I saw a face- a face I noway allowed I'd ever see again.

My heart literally skipped a beat.

" Sebastian?" Clara's voice pulled me out of the shock, but I was formerly moving.

I did not suppose, I simply replied.

Without another word, I turned toward the door. The pressure in my chest was unsupportable. There was something in the air. Something I was n't prepared to face.

And as I reached for the door handle, Clara's voice stopped me.

" Who's that?"

I turned, my breath catching.

" I do not know," I said hoarsely," but I feel that he is come to complete the untreated business.