Stranger encounters

Elizabeth

First Chapter: Elizabeth

I suppress a sigh as I observe the countless people fawning over my father. I can’t stand these functions; they say it is for charity, but really, it’s just another opportunity for the rich to try to gain favor with the public and those more powerful than themselves. If it wasn’t, then it wouldn’t be televised, they would have done it quietly without having to be praised for their pitiful attempt at ‘helping’ those less fortunate than themselves.

It’s the people in this room responsible for the large gap between the top and bottom of society anyway. What a Joke.

I watch my dad smile at them all, he looks genuine and warm, but I know it's all a show. I don’t know how he manages to do it for so long. Does he not feel his soul withering away with each passing second?

Taking another long sip of the old-fashioned as I sank lower into my chair.

‘Aw come on Lizzie, it’s not that bad.’ My Stepmother (Georgia) playfully scolds in her perky southern drawl.

She has been married to my father for over a year now and has taken on a motherly role for me, which irritates me to no end – especially since I am 20 years old, and she is only in her early 30s.

I was a bit shocked when he told me he was remarrying. He hadn’t shown interest in anyone since my mother died 7 years ago. When he eventually did, no one tended to make it past the first date… until her. Shortly after meeting Georgia, though, I was convinced that she was just a part of some scheme to improve the business. Because while I don’t trust her brilliant smile and over-friendly demeanor, it seems to disarm the other shallow, self-centered people around us – I suppose, like calls to like. Other than that, and the perfection that is her brown tawny skin, honey brown curls and athletic physique, I don’t understand what my dad would see in her to incite marriage.

My mother was often described as calm and Stoic, a perfect match for the tyrant that is my father – the calm to his storm. And that combination created the freak that is me – a quiet storm; not quite able to slow the constant stream of thought and emotions that threaten to overcome me. Often feeling overwhelmed with the urge to flee and disappear from the world, I use my long, wavy auburn hair as a shield between me and the world. I was often scolded by Georgia for such a thing: ‘what a waste to hide such a pretty face’, she would chide.

I prod at the clips she made me wear today, holding my hair in a half-up style.

‘Leave it Lizzie!’ She nagged, ‘Why don’t you go and talk to some of the other young people, huh?’

With a long exhale, I stood up and walked across the room, casually weaving in and out of people so that it appeared I was mingling, but I was inching my way to the large double doors that we originally entered through. Desperate for some air. When I finally made it through those double doors and that fresh wave of summer air hit my face, I closed my eyes and took several long deep breaths. Freedom at last.

I continued towards the impressive gardens, enjoying the progressive feeling of calm soaking into my body. Spotting a bench half-shrouded by a willow tree in the distance, I decided it would be a good place to hide away for a while. It wasn’t until I rounded the tree that I noticed the figure already sitting there. My footsteps faltered.

Oh, sorry!’ I staggered, ‘ I didn’t realise anyone was sitting here. I’ll go’.

‘Wait…’ came a male’s voice, ‘I really wouldn’t mind the company, I was just taking in the beauty of the gardens.’

‘I really wouldn’t want to impose,’ I urged.

‘Not at all’ he responded, ‘Join me’.

His tone left no room for discussion, so I awkwardly took the space beside him, cursing myself for saying anything in the first place and not just walking away.

‘So why aren’t you in there having fun with everyone else?’ he inquired.

‘I like the quiet.’

‘Ah.’ he responded, but said nothing more.

The silence stretched on for what felt like eternity, but also no time at all. At first, I was sitting on the edge of the bench, shoulders tensed and ready to bolt, but as the minutes ticked by I started to feel my body relaxing and my mind quieting. I started to feel at ease in what became a comfortable silence. Just quietly enjoying the calm of the evening.

Suspicion crept into my thoughts. Usually, people knew who I was and would be asking prying questions – always after something. So why wasn’t he – unless he didn’t know who I was?

Peering at him out of the corner of my eye, I could see him much clearer now that I was so close. His hair had looked black at first but, from this distance, I could make out hints of dark brown where the moon illuminated it. Where the light hit his eyes, I could see that they were such a light brown that they shone almost gold. His arms, hidden underneath a beautifully tailored suit, looked to be quite tone and muscular – he clearly worked out.

Lost in my assessments, I didn’t notice that he had moved until I roamed back up to his face and saw his eyes locked on mine. With a gasp, I snapped my head back to a forward-facing position and avoided his stare. My face felt flushed. I should probably leave now that I’ve made it awkward. Although when our eyes briefly met, I could have sworn I caught the hint of a smirk and amusement in them.

Too anxious about the change in mood, I moved to get up but was halted by a hand lightly grabbing my forearm.

‘This was nice, we should do it again some time.’ he said with that smirk.

I felt as if his eyes were looking into my very soul, like he could see every thought and emotion written across my face.

‘I, uh, don’t know’, I replied in a fluster.

His hand seared the bare skin of my arm. I felt a tingle through my body that was both overwhelming and exhilarating. Retrieving a pen and tiny notebook from his jacket pocket, he scrawls something down.

‘I’ll tell you what, call me if you change your mind’.

I cautiously take the paper, trying to figure out what angle he’s playing here.

‘Thanks’, I said, slipping the paper into my pocket. I turned away and made my way back to the building.

‘I’m Cillian by the way!’, I heard him call after me. But I just continue forward, not looking back.

He didn’t even ask for my name and number in return, I noted. What a strange man. But I smile to myself despite the thought as I make my way back inside.