Chapter 5 Apologies

• There have existed four days since the scolding I received from Adrian, meaning it's a Friday. The sun has already gone down, dusk is taking over, and I am currently desolately straddled at our favourite locale in the kitchen, reminiscing about how horrible the week has been. I know I had said that my monthly cycle weeks are disastrous ones, but please, I take that back now. The cold and tight-lipped antidote I have received from Adrian these past four days is way too much and has not allowed me to rest.
• He is awfully distant. We don't share coffee anymore. We don't talk, and if we do, it's only greetings, and maybe a question here and there which is only about his daughter. To top it all off, I was discontinued from taking Angel to and from school. He wakes up early to prepare her and drops her off at school then he proceeds to his work. In the evening, he sends the chauffeur to pick her up from school, and take her to him in his office. I am left here with almost no work at all, and the only thing I do to kill time is just calling home once a day because I honestly don't feel like talking to anyone. The situation is choking me.
• I am still unequipped to decipher why the fallacy with Andy has encompassed me this much, but then I guess this is how someone feels when they discover that they have stung the feelings of their boss, especially in such a ridiculous run-down way like mine.
• I am not furious with Andy for being wildly mad at me and admonishing me. I aggravated him. I should have known better that his daughter means everything to him. I should have glued to my lane and report the issue to him. But what did I do instead? I decided to play the smart guy. I knew how susceptible he is regarding matters about Angel, but still, I chose to please his daughter, without thinking of the implications of my action or the consequences. It didn't even bridge my silly mind just how all that would make him feel. Stupid me!!!
• It's all my fault. I hope he is not waiting to pay me off and fire me. I can't afford to go back home and wait for the misfortunes to befall us, particularly now that I was told the bank gave us up to mid-next month to make our first payment. I don't want to visualize what will ensue if we don't get the money to make that payment. My family might become homeless and I can't bear that. Getting another job will be like hunting a white elephant, especially for people like us who don't have papers to present. I need to keep this one. I am crossing my fingers in the hope that Adrian will still want to hold me after this.
• How ironic, huh? The lips that kissed me with so much passion one morning, are the same lips that spoke to me with so much resentment and abhorrence the same day evening! I can only imagine how disgusted he was with me, and still is, the same way I am with myself.
• The most annoying fraction of all these is how that morning kiss has remained stuck in my mind even after everything that has ensued. It just feels so raw, like it occurred this morning, and I am finding it arduous to not flush it out of my mind. I so freshly recall the feeling of his touch and the sweet taste of his lips. The mare thought of that kiss makes me tremble with the longing for another touch, another kiss, another analogous feeling just like that.
• Countless times, I have asked myself what the kiss meant to him. But how can I know that if even I don't know what it meant for me, or why I permitted it? All I know is that it felt sweet, it felt... so beautiful, it felt surreal, and I savour that little juncture. But then I ask myself again, did it feel right? The response is, yes, for reasons that I don't know.
• My hair rises at the thought of kissing him again. I feel the urge to kiss him again. To feel my cheeks reddening in his palms, to feel his warm breath caress my nostrils. I want to feel myself melt in his hands, and taste his lips once again. I want to explore his mouth as he explores mine. Still, is it moral? Is it right to desire him in this weirdly lustful way? My boss? I don't know. I honestly don't.
• My phone buzzes, snapping my mind from the world of the lost and confused. It's a strange new number, and since I don't feel like talking, especially to annoying unknown persons, I reject the call, and sip my already cold coffee. Yack! It's so horribly bitter when it's cold. Phthoo!!! I take the flask and pour a hot one into a different cup, and trash the cold one in the sink.
• My phone rings again, indicating the same caller, and I put it into silent mode. My head is already full as it is, I will call back whoever is calling tomorrow. Perhaps my head will have cleared a little.
• Before I can take a sip, I hear the front door opening, and I know it is Andy. Finally, I feel relieved. I wasn't even cognizant that I was anxious all the while, because they were not yet home. I take a sip of my coffee and I swear, this one tastes sweeter than the first cup.
• I thought of going to meet them in the living room, but I slug that thought when I don't hear Angel's voice. The kid must have fallen asleep in the car like yesterday and the day before. Certainly, Adrian does not want to see my suffocating face. The thought of how disgruntled he is with me changed the flavour of coffee once again, because this sip that I just took doesn't taste anything close to sweet like the previous one. I toss it aside. I'm done with this stupid coffee tonight.
• I rest my elbows on the table, placing my chin between my open plans, looking up with my eyes closed to the healing. I need some voice to whisper to me that things will be okay. I need a consoling sign to show me that things are still under control.
• I don't know how long I have been mentally crying out to the heavens, but as if my prayers touched the hearts of the heavenly angels, I am startled by heavy footsteps at the doorway.
• I stand up, turning to the entrance of the kitchen, my entire being almost getting paralysed by the sight of him.
• ANDY?
• The last time he strode inside this kitchen when I am in, was that cursed twilight of Monday. That cursed night he yelled at me with so much bitterness. Since then, he only comes in to take his coffee when I go to bed which I leave in the flask.
• "Hi! How are you?" He asks, parking himself on a stool next to me and plopping his phone on the table.
• How am I, huh? How do you expect me to be, Adrian Ashton? I mean, after relieving me of my main duty in this house and then going all tight-lipped and frigid on me?
• That's what I want to scream at him, but I dare not. I compose myself. I don't want to add salt to the injury once more, and besides, I deserve this. Instead of unnecessary yelling, "I am okay," is what I bitterly force out of my mouth.
• "Can I get a cup of coffee?" He asks after eyeing me from the hair to the toe.
• "Sure, sir!" I say as I walk to grab his favourite mug, but he grabs my hand, making me stop on the spot. I can feel my body start reciting the Deja vou due to his touch, but I instruct my guards to stay strong. This is not the time to show him how effortlessly he arouses me.
• "Sir? We are back to that again? What happened to Andy?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, boring deep into my orbs. I may be right or wrong, but I have a sense that he is not that mad at me. He is not the enraged Andy. I feel like he is the Andy I was so free with before that nasty mishap. My Andy!
• Mine, huh?
• Bitter sigh!
• "I'm sorry. I just thought that it was the best way to address my boss." I rant. I don't even know where I got the bravery to mumble that.
• He looks away for a minute, still not letting go of my hand.
• "I don't know who has a memory disorder between you and me, but I think I recollect ordering you to drop the sir. Am I right?" He questions, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb, which I'm sure he doesn't know he is doing. I nod my head in response to his question. "It's Andy, for you." He adds.
• "Okay."
• "Okay...?"
• "Okay, Andy!"
• "Good." He releases my hand, and I go to pour him coffee, after which I settle back on my stool next to him, but I keep my eyes away from him. I don't know whether he still wants to strangle me or if he has let the matter go. The fact is, I made a mess which I am still so ashamed of, and I have no idea how to clean it up.
• Will he ever forgive me?
• "Do you want to say something?"
• Snapping my eyes at him, I notice he is watching my restless fingers.
• It feels like a miracle to hear him talking like this to me again, and maybe I should grab this opportunity to explain myself and ask for forgiveness - That is if that word is in his vocabulary.
• "Will anything I say now fix a thing?" I softly ask, turning to face him.
• "Try." He lazily turns to completely face me, and we are now facing each other, our legs touching.
• "I am sorry, is all I can say, Andy!" I look at him and speak with all honesty. "It wasn't my intention to make you look uninformed in front of the principal. And it wasn't my intent to keep it hidden from you either. I was intending to tell you all about it that evening. I'm sorry, for foolishly deciding for your daughter without your consent. I don't have the right to do that. I am sorry for everything, and I vouch that nothing of the sort will ever happen again." I finish with a huge pile forming in my throat, but I forcefully push it down. I can't break down in front of him a second time.
• He eyes me for a decade, perhaps rummaging for the certainty in my eyes, and I let him. I let him see how apologetic I am. How truly sorry I really am.
• He looks away.
• "My daughter is my everything. She is my top most priority. She is my reason to live." The words just rolled out of his mouth like he isn't speaking to me or anyone, and then he continues, shifting his gaze to me once again. "She has been telling me everything, except for the one thing that's worrisome to her. I felt threatened that now my only daughter trusts in you more than in me."
• "That's not true, Andy. She did that because she wants to remain a perfect princess to her daddy. It was her childish way of being a good kid to her father, and I am sorry I encouraged it. That's how much she loves you."
• "Did she tell you all that?"
• "Yes, she did. You perpetually tell her that kids who fight or cause trouble are bad, right?" He nods. "Well, it's for that exact reason that Angel didn't want you to learn that she fought at school. And as to why she doesn't have a mother, well, she said you don't tell her a thing."
• "What can I possibly tell her? I don't want to solace her with lies or counterfeit hopes, and nor do I want to maim her with the truth, at least not now when she is too minor. So I constantly joke around that issue whenever she brings it up. But I did not know it was because she was being bullied at school for not having a mother." He looks away.
• This is what I didn't want. To see him this bothered, because I know just how much his daughter means to him. She is his realm. He can move mountains and walk miles for his daughter, and if possible, gift her with everything she so or less desires, including a complete family.
• "Andy," I position my hands on top of his on his thighs, making him look shift his intense gate at me, "you are a tremendous dad to Angel, and she knows that. She adores you. But I will not lie to you that she will stop asking about things like that, especially when she grows up and learns that every child has a father and a mother. Moreover, don't feel bad when occasionally she confides herself in someone else. There are things she will not be able to tell you as her father, but that doesn't mean she trusts that someone more than you." I finish my sermon, and Andy looks at me confusedly, like he wants to ask, aren't you too young to give such pieces of advice? Nevertheless, I squeeze his hands to emphasise my points, and when he squeezes mine back, I know I didn't rant. I made a point or two, and my heart is doing a small dance inside.
• "Thank you." He says, his sweet words sending me off to cloud nine. Wow! In my cloud nine moods, I even forgot how to respond to a simple thank you. Instead, I just foolishly smile like an idiot. "Can I ask for a favour?" He speaks again, pulling me from my state.
• "Sure. Anything." I murmur, blushing off the evidence of cloud nine euphorias from my face.
• "Just don't do anything that can put my daughter in devastation now or even in the future, please. I can bear anything, everything, but not my daughter getting hurt." His cold face warms to this request, sincerity registered by the softness in his dark brown orbs. Looking at him closely, I realize now that his daughter is not just his world. She is his strength and weakness. Angel is the only thing that can bring him, the cold billionaire, Andrian Ashton, on his knees, and perhaps, in the grave. The love and adoration he has for his precious girl are immense. The bits of his story that I know are painful ones, so I understand how sentimental he must be to the only constant thing in his life, which is his daughter.
• "I promise you, Andy. Angel will always be safe with me. I will never say or do anything harmful to her. I give you my word."
• "Okay. It's getting late. Aren't you sleepy yet?" He asks as he stands up, shoving his phone in his pocket.
• "I have to clean the dishes first."
• "Okay, I'll go ahead then. And, as part of my apology for how I spoke to you on Monday, I permit you to use the kitchen. Cook whatever you want, and I and my daughter will be the judges of your cooking. Make a list of anything you'll need and I'll give you the money in the morning."
• Wow! Did heaven just drop down to earth or something? Did I hear that correct? Someone shoot me!
• "Thank you so much!" I pronto respond before he changes his mind.
• "Welcome, and goodnight."
• With that, he strands out of the kitchen, and I am left to clean the dishes.
• After the cleaning, I sit down and write all the ingredients I need for my cooking, and everything that is missing in the kitchen, humming a hymn that I only the tune, and not a single word. Ooh me!!
• I can not believe he authorized me to start cooking.
• Will they like my food? What if they don't? Will I be barred from the kitchen again?
• I walk up to my room and get to bed.
• Well, I will worry about whether or not they will like my food later. For now, let me go to sleep. I am sure I will have a peaceful sleep for the first time this week because Andy and I are okay. We are freaking o-k-a-y!!!
• And he might greet you with a morning kiss tomorrow!
• My inner voice tease, but I ignore it and tuck myself under the duvet.