Mood:
chillin'Now Playing: Pokemon Diamond
Topic: Worried
My sister's cat, Tippy, has gone missing. I'm really about her! My mom and sister saw her outside this morning, but she ran away when they tried to bring her back inside. Right now, it's raining. I hope she's okay. I hope she didn't get knocked up. :(
In better news, I've got more writing. The following story is the sequel to the one I posted, yesterday...
***
Oxidation
The streetlights were already on by the time Aidan got home. The lights in his house were covered in a thin layer of dust, so that when he turned them on, they shone a pale gray instead of their usual brilliant white. He sighed, turned the lights off, and dusted them off with a sheet of paper towel. After that, he discarded the sheet, turned the lights back on, walked down the now well lit hallways, and headed into his office. He had been spending a lot of time away from home for work, so he hadn't been here for, at most, two weeks, but for some reason, it felt much longer than that.
He sunk into his leather upholstered desk chair, slouched back, and sighed in relief. He felt so relaxed and so at home in this dimly lit room. Many people he knew said that the living room or kitchen was the heart of the house, but he disagreed. He thought that the office was the heart - no, wait, the brain of the house!
His eyes, like the broom of a diligent housewife, swept the surface of his desk. They poked and prodded every nook and cranny and rid the corners of cobwebs. Nothing was left untouched.
His desk was covered in piles of papers. All kinds of papers. Big papers, little papers, white papers, off-white papers, blue papers, yellow papers, yellowing papers... He was up to his eyes in papers. Initially, everything was organized into neat little piles - one for incoming mail, another for outgoing mail, one for trash, another for things of great importance, one for pamphlets, another for notes, and so on - but now that the piles had gotten bigger, the whole place looked a mess. Some of the piles had even gained a Leaning Tower of Pisa look. Aidan was used to it, though, and he was always able to find exactly what he was looking for. There's order in the chaos, he would say.
Today, however, he noticed something out of the ordinary in the incoming mail pile. It was a crumpled yellow envelope. The yellow was neither a dignified canary yellow nor an aged used-to-be-white yellow. This was a purposeful neon yellow! Someone had intentionally bought a yellow envelope, crumpled it up, put a letter in it - Oh, and there had better be a letter in it! - and sent it to him.
His eyes narrowed as he glared at the envelope. He grabbed it out of the pile. The shuffling of papers left in its wake was audible. Then, he looked at it. He recognized the return address and the handwriting looked familiar. After that, he ripped the top off of it. Then, he fished out the letter inside and read it. He could barely believe a word of it. His body tensed up and a bead of sweat forced its way down his face. His long, black ponytail was beginning to stick to his neck on account of the sweat. Feigning normalcy, he pushed his glasses back on his nose - the sweat was making them slip - with a pair of shaking fingers. He set the letter down and his hands - his hands were beginning to shake - reached for the nearby phone. Then, he stopped. He jerked back his hand and began taking deep breaths in and out, in and out... What he was about to do could not be undone, so before doing it, he had to be sure of himself.
Aidan eyed the telephone for some time now. He had been contemplating whether or not he should place the call. If he did, indeed, place the call, he would have to mentally prepare himself for the verbal barrage he was sure to encounter on the other end. After thinking for some time now, he came to the conclusion that the positives outweighed the negatives, so he formed his resolve, picked up the the receiver, punched in the ten digits - Why, oh, why did the call have to be long distance too? - and waited for the ring. After he heard ringing, he waited for someone to pick up. Then, he heard the telltale click of someone picking up on the other end. He gasped and waited for a response. Nothing. He decided to start the conversation. "G-Good evening! Is Mr. Terrani there?"
"This is he. Adam Terrani speaking." There was a pause. Adam was thinking of who this could possibly be. Thinking, thinking, thinking... The voice didn't sound like anyone he worked with and if it was a telemarketer, then he would've gotten a sales pitch by now. Then, he had a revelation. "Aidan, is that you?" He spoke with a tone of disbelief.
"Yes, Mr. Terrani, this is Aidan." Aidan hadn't even brought up the subject he wanted to discuss with Adam and already he was annoyed by him.
"You called me, Aidan? You called me? I can't believe it! There must be something wrong if - "
Adam cut him off. "- There is something wrong. There is something terribly wrong. I'd like you to come over my house tonight, so that we could discuss it more detail, Mr. Terrani."
"Quit that, Aidan! Quit with the niceties! You don't need to need to call me mister, just call me Adam." Adam's words were like a warm pat on the back, and they made Aidan uncomfortable. "We've known eachother long enough to allow ourselves that." He paused. "Speaking of terrible things, last night, the lights were flickering. It was horrible! This morning, I called an electrician to come on over and check it out. He did and then he told me how much it would cost for him to fix it and he gave me this exorbitant price!" He gestured with his arms how much the price was, something lost in a telephone conversation. "I couldn't just stay in the dark, but I couldn't pay that much either, so..."
In all honesty, Aidan wasn't pay much attention to what Adam was saying. He really couldn't digest everything that Adam said and most of what he said didn't concern him at all, so he just tuned out. When called for, he would occasionally chime in with an, "Uh-huh," or, "Yes," or, "Fascinating," but aside from that, he didn't speak at all.
"Now, the lights don't work at all. I tried changing the bulbs, but they still don't turn on. Hey, Aidan, you're an engineer, right? Think you could come on over and fix it up?"
"I'm an environmental engineer."
"Oh, really? Amazing! I'm an environmental lawyer. I mean, I specialize in environmental law. Sure, I can do other things too, but this is what I'm best at. I know you don't like what I do, but I've got to make a living somehow. I can't do everything pro bono. I can barely do anything as is. I can't even pay for these lights to be fixed." He paused. "Speaking of which, don't you have a maid or something? What's she up to?"
"Yes, I do. She's not here now. She's on holiday."
"Anyway, about engineering, I don't think it matters what kind of engineer you are. All engineering is really the same. And the lights...you're either able to do it or not. That's the way it is in law too. I don't mean that in a bad way. It's good to specialize in things. It's like how a steak knife can cut a loaf of bread, but a bread knife works so much better..."
Aidan was now thinking that this had been a horrible idea and that he should hang up. He made the motion to put the phone back on its base, when Adam's voice came blaring out of the other end. "You're trying to hang up on me, aren't you?" The way he said it made it sound more like a threat than anything else.
Aidan clumsily jerked the phone up to his ear. He ended up grabbing the wrong part - instead of the middle, he had his hands on the coiled up wire and the transmitter - and the phone slipped out of hands and fell to the floor with a loud crack. He could hear screaming on the other end as he fumbled to pick it up and bring it to his ear. He caught the last end of something Adam was saying. "-ll is going on over there?!"
"I'm sorry about that. I was having some trouble with the phone."
"You can say that again! What are you trying to do? Burst my eardrums or something?" Adam tried to compose himself before speaking again. "So, how about coming over my house to discuss that thing you wanted to discuss?"
"I thought you said the power was out over there."
"You were listening to that?" Adam was surprised. "Yes, that is a dilemma. Okay, I'll come over there, then. I'll be there at eight. Count on it."
"Okay. Goodbye, Adam."
"Goodbye."
With that, Aidan hung up the phone.
He heaved a sigh of relief, leaned back in his chair, and rested his head on his folded arms. He was so glad to have gotten that over with. Now, all he had to do was wait. He looked at his watch. It was a quarter to eight o' clock. He pocketed the letter, turned the lights in the office off and headed into the livingroom.
The whole house was decorated very conservatively. Everything was plain and square, though, occasionally, a square or plaid print would show up. The color palette drew mostly from red and other warm colors, like orange and yellow, but green was present too.
The livingroom consisted of a couch, two chairs, a coffee table, and an entertainment system. The couch was flush to the window on the wall of the right of the room and it was covered with red fabric that felt like a burlap sack. The two chairs - one to the left of the couch and the other to the right - were upholstered with fabric with a plaid design consisting of thin horizontal stripes of red, orange, and yellow and vertical stripes of different shades of green. The coffee table was in the center of the room, in front of the couch, and was covered in assorted scientific journals.
Aidan walked into the dimly lit livingroom. He traced his index finger along the right arm of the plaid chair to the right of the couch. He then sat in the middle of the couch and waited. He looked at his watch. It was ten to eight o' clock. He thought about how to pass the time. He could turn on the television, but nothing he wanted to watch was on. He could read one of the journals on the coffee table, but he had already read and reread them several times and a new one wasn't slated to arrive until another week from now. He could just wait patiently for another ten, no, it was nine minutes, now, but in all honesty, despite the put-together appearance he tried to keep up, he was really a very impatient man. There was always a part of him that was moving and in long board meetings, out of frustration, he would end up biting his cheek until he felt pain.
Aidan got up and walked into the kitchen. The house he lived in, now, was the one he grew up in. Since it was built for a large family, it had more room than he needed. He was the first to admit this. However, he never felt bad about it. There were five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a guestroom, a livingroom, a diningroom, and a kitchen. There was also a basement and an attic. Four of the bedrooms were completely empty, two of the bathrooms only had a sink, toilet, and bathtub, and the guestroom was, to put it bluntly, bare-boned. While none of the unused space made him worry in the least, one glance at that kitchen was enough to make a lump form in his throat. He didn't feel that a man like him whose most complex culinary achievement was chicken vegetable stir fry - and he needed to follow the directions on the back of a box to accomplish that - and who had all of his meals prepared for him deserved such an immaculate place to prepare food.
He went straight to the gas range oven. Where does the gas in a gas range oven come from? He thought to himself. I know that when I turn the knob, gas comes up... He turned the knob to the Light setting. ...but where is it originally from? He heard some popping sounds and began to smell the odor of gas. Then, he saw a mostly blue flame with orange edges appear beneath the black grates on top of the stove. What causes a fire to form like that? He actually knew the answers to all of the questions. He just did this to test himself and to have a little fun. Gas comes from the gas company and when that gas is exposed to a spark, it bursts into flames. He turned the knob to the third setting and watched the flame go down a little.
Aidan put his arms flat against his sides and looked at the fire burn. He was enjoying this. He could feel the warmth of the fire against his face and the blue light of the flame reflected off of his sunlight-deprived skin. He put his right hand about a foot above the flame. Despite him not turning the fire off, it went out. "Aw," he said, sounding like a child who had just broken a brand new toy, "that's no fun!" He turned the fire back on and put his hand over it again. This time, the mostly blue flame flared up towards his hand in a thin, mostly orange flame. He removed his hand and it went back down. Then, he put both of his hands over the flame and drew loops in the air. The flames followed the motion, but died off at the point where they would have formed a circle. After he had enough fun, he turned the fire off and went back into the livingroom.
Aidan took a seat at the couch. He began to think about how he was able to do what he just did. In all honesty, he really didn't understand this ability of his. He wasn't even sure if what he was able to do could even be called an ability or if he even had an ability at all. All he knew was that if he felt a certain way around fire, something would happen to it, and if he felt another way, something else would happen, and so on. While he did know how it felt, because feelings weren't very objective, after all, he had trouble putting it into words. It felt like his insides was burning, but at the same time, it felt really good, really pleasurable, like being embraced by someone he really liked.
He had feelings like this ever since he was a child. His parents, Maya, Adam, and even Sora all believed that he had some kind of ability - that he was special - but he didn't understand it, himself.
He remembered being fascinated by fire as a child and how he would play with matches. Back then, his parents called him a prodigy. He didn't understand. When he would go to school with normal kids with normal parents, this behavior wasn't encouraged, but when he was at home, his parents would praise him for it.
How did this ability work? He remembered having been explained that he was able to manipulate the positions of oxygen molecules. This didn't make any sense to him. While, technically speaking, the positions of molecules could possibly end up lined up, entropy normally prevented this, so how could anything or anyone do that? He didn't understand. What he was able to do was at odds with what he had learned.
His thoughts were interrupted by heavy knocking at the front door. "Hello! Who is it?" He shouted.
"Mr. Adam Terran!"
Aidan looked at his watch. It was a minute after eight o' clock. "I'm coming!" First, he got up. Then, he walked to the door, unlocked it, and opened it to let Adam in. Aidan stood aside and as he walked in, Aidan said, "You're late."
To which Adam replied, "Only by a minute! You're splitting hairs here!" The disgust in his voice was audible. Aidan took his coat and hung it up on the nearby coat rack. He then gestured for Adam to sit down, which he did.
Adam sat in the plaid chair to the right of the couch. He looked around the living room, puckered his lips up, and whistled. He tried to make small talk. "This is a nice place you have here." He then looked down at the coffee table. Aidan's eyes followed his. Both eventually rested on the scientific journals. Aidan got up, began collecting a few in his hands, and stacked them up, trying to neaten them up. "Please forgive the mess," he said, panicked, "I haven't been home in days and the maid is on vacation, so - "
"- That's okay. I really don't mind." Adam paused. "Do you have anything published?"
He was taken aback. "Oh, yes, just one!" He paused and added in a teasing tone of voice, "You?"
"Actually, I do, but not in what you'd think."
"Huh?" He was genuinely surprised.
"I did something for a client for the American Journal of Botany."
"Oh, really, now?"
"Yes, really."
Aidan didn't respond. He sat back down and looked over at Adam with a look of utmost seriousness on his face. "Now for the business I need to attend to." He reached for the letter in his pocket, grabbed it, and slammed it face up on the coffee table. He then slid it towards Adam. "Do you see it?"
"Yes." Adam took the letter in his hands and began to read it. Halfway through, he looked up from it at Aidan. "This is from your parents?"
"Yes."
"I see." Adam continued reading. When he finished, he set it back down on the table. "I'm sorry. I can't help you with this." He paused. "However, I do know someone that might be able to."
Aidan jumped out of his seat. "Who?! I'll have him come over, now!"
Adam slouched back in the chair. "She can't come, now. I'll give you her number and you can call her later." He pulled a date book out of his back pocket, ripped a page out, scrawled a name and phone number on it with a pen from his breast pocket, and set it on the table. He slid it towards Aidan. "Here it is."
Aidan sat back down. "Thank you."
Adam stood up. "I'm sorry I can't help you." He got his coat off of the coat rack, put it on, opened the door, and headed outside. "Goodbye, Aidan! See you later!"
"Goodbye, Adam!"
hungry