the child by the door

She looked up at him. He was smiling, contrary to what she expected from him. Crumbs fell onto the floor as she almost dropped the pastry between her hands. A heavy feeling welled up in her but she tamped it down. The Signor hates crying. But right now, it was almost unreal, surreal to hear her being called Ate. “I thought you tried to forget me.”

The young man tensed . “I” he stuttered. A confused look crossed his face before he buried his face in the sheets and finally spoke again. “I’m sleepy.”

“But it’s early in the morning.” Sal replied.

A long look rested on Oleon’s face. Eventually, the young boy laid down on his bed, and covered himself in the sheets before turning to face away from her.

Sal gripped her skirt. It was wrong to think everything was going fine. Sal sat up to leave but before she could, Oleon spoke.

“I sent you letters.”

Sal wracked her head to search any memory of a letter she received. The maid never delivered her any letters since she wrote to Oleon in his address. At first, she’d justified it as just her putting up the wrong address. Putting up the wrong address for years. Years of silence, she believed that perhaps he didn’t receive the letters and he was coming to despise her.

“How? When-” A barrage of questions. Sal stuttered.

The boy only lowered his head in response. “Please go now” It was pleading.

Maybe he did find Sal strange after all, maybe he did despise her. But perhaps his hatred was not enough to make her go.

Suddenly, footsteps fluttered and conversations trickled just outside the door.The door burst open and a middle-aged man marched inside. His steps matched with the rhythm of his cane as he marched in a strict, rhythmic, cadence. Each step heavy.

Sal froze as she chanced upon the Signor Cuorre’s hawk-like gaze. She’d selfishly hoped it was not her he was staring at.

Oleon labored to sit up and at least nod. “Pleasant afternoon, Papa.”

“Your school informed me of your leave.” The man marched close to the young boy and tapped the back of his hand on the teenager’s forehead then examined his arms and skin. It was quiet.

“If you’re strong enough to sit up, you might as well be healthy enough to go back to University. Men of old face battles and disease. The youth only has to sit and listen and they fumble it like wild girls” the Signor remarked. “Your teachers and the administrator have been sending me letters on your lack of progress.” The Signor stood, his low glare not being removed from the young boy. “It is not the time to make excuses, child.”

“But I-”

“You call yourself an heir to the Cuorre? You want society to think of you weak? Making excuses to avoid his duty?”

Oleon’s head was bowed, “No, I’m sorry.”

“Then, prove it.”

A storm went wild in Sal’s chest. The Signor always spoke of these things and yet they made little sense to her at this moment. She twiddled her fingers together as she put them by her back. She bowed, half-hoping a fringe covered her face enough and half-hoping that she could just shout.

“Can’t he stay?”

Sal’s voice was not above a whisper, but she clamped her hand to her mouth. If she escapes via the door now, it will be easier to see her face or be noticed. Sal stood there, her hands wrung together as she kept her head low.

“Basic manners dictate that you should not speak until you are spoken to.” The Signor put his hat above his head as he cast a hard, condescending look at Sal. He proceeded to walk away.

Sal kept her head bowed until the cane kept clacking on the floor. She let out an audible sigh and a quick glance at her brother. But he sat aghast.

The Signor stood in front of Sal just by the door. She quickly averted her eyes, but it was unmistakable. She knew that expression.

“It seems like with my absence these days, there is a lack in discipline among the new staff.” He faced the doorway where Ren stood. “Please excuse us, if you will. Seeing as you also, were deceived because of my incompetence.”

“It was not an inconvenience at all.”Ren conceded. “Now, I reckon the Signor Castiglione must be looking for you.”

“I need to tend to urgent business.” He insisted.

The Signor called for Sal’s maid and the maid in turn, called for Sal to follow her. The maid’s responses seemed rush and monosyllabic, different from what she displays in front of her. As Sal followed the Signor and the maid, she glanced behind. Ren mouthed something to her, but she was too far to see it clearly.