Leak Ch 02

Chapter Two: Tears for Two

All fears are learned, taught without good reason, and irrational. The unknown ignites suspicions, fears and hatred in men. Problem is, almost everything does.

Laura'd never met her father's aunt and for good reason. She could remember her mom mentioning the woman a couple times, maybe three times in all their years together, and the recollection of those moments still sent a shiver up her spine. On each occasion the name was blurted out with alarm, and rancor. Her mom may have intended for it to go over Laura's head, but it didn't. Instead, it made a lasting imprint and Laura learned to fear a person she'd never met. Now she was saturated in suspense, bound to the anxiety of that earlier age. Hatred was, of course, an impossible alternative for this sweet innocent child.

Frightened and sobbing uncontrollably, Laura acted out of desperation and darted for the elevator leading to her father's penthouse. She then ran the short distance to his study and tapped lightly on the door. She took a breath, made to snivel instead of cry, and entered politely.

Though she'd rarely been allowed entrance, it was a warm cozy den that left a lasting impression, and she discovered little changed. It had a high ceiling, the finest wood paneling and deep bookcases that reached to the sky. The shelves were crammed with books and a layer of dust so thick it looked like freshly fallen snow. Her eyes found and lingered on the single window still draped in material of royal blue that glowed to the sun's light. To her right was a chair and large desk littered with the appropriate items- a lamp, a notebook, papers, pens, and such. Before her, across the distance of a Persian rug, was another door, probably to her father's more private rooms. The light was sufficient and she found her dad sitting in a chair to the left.

Laura wiped another tear from her eye, and moved through a room dominated by male aromas of cedar and lingering spices. She moved through a masculine world and stepped up to the cold beast posing as a father. Without so much as a glance from him, Laura fell to her knees and hoping to melt a heart of stone, began blubbering in despair.

"Oh please father... oh please," she sputtered nervously while staring at her own hand between stolen glances of him. "How can you be so cruel? Am I not your own flesh and blood? Am I not?" Though hysterical, she sobbed with control and hoped for the best. Even when in despair this poor girl could do little more then whimper, but Reele never moved.

In desperate attempts for a response, Laura began tugging nervously on a small crease between two folds in the fabric of her father's trousers. She pulled along its length in gentle pleas for some recognition. Looking up, she sought bearing from the stone sire, a glimmer of light, a star from which she could navigate. Any slight acknowledgment would suffice, but she searched in vain, her gentle siege accomplishing nothing. Laura realized all was for naught and decided to leave before causing more of a problem. Dejected, she bowed her head and made to rise and run away, until she felt it. The cold breeze filled the room in a rush, along with a foul wind.

It moved, he moved, Reele moved. He'd been sitting back, burrowed into the plush leather cushioning of his over-stuffed walnut armchair, from the Italian Renaissance. He was enjoying the taste of an imported hand-rolled Cuban cigar. His eyes were following the smoke's curvaceous, swirling, gently expanding plumes into Einstein's world of an ever expanding universe, and the odds of playing to an inside straight. He looked down at the figure on its knees before him like one would an annoying insect and rolled his eyes. Appearing bemused and being the foul-natured cur he is, he began a long boring dissertation. His blabber was unintentionally meant to boggle the confused minds of the foolish and the clear minds of the innocent.

"Girl..." Reele began.

"Huh," Laura returned in a stunned way.

"...Er, daughter..." he continued carelessly.

"Laura," the sweet fifteen year old choked out in a sputtering offer of disbelief, in reaction to his ignorance. She was introducing herself to a stranger. Yes, a total stranger! Her own father did not remember her name and likely never knew it. For sure he'd never keep it in mind. How cruel, heartless and cold, how bleak her world became. How ominous indeed, as the long heavy veil of loneliness blackened the sky, engulfing her in darkness.

Laura knelt in tears before a man who continued spewing meaningless dribble. As if clearing his conscience with the aid of rationalizations, he drove her mind to run and hide. With despair and hopelessness, her brain slammed the psychic doors of awareness and reason closed, locking them shut. Unconcerned, her father continued between puffs of smoke.

"You need to understand... 'Laura', did you say? Yes, Laura... and yes... Mmmmm where was I... yes, yes... you need to understand..." Her father droned on without thinking of what he was saying, as Laura listened without hearing. The poor girl had given up trying to understand what he was saying, and prayed for deliverance. She'd come up to complain, to meet and to beg. She'd come to ask forgiveness without knowing why, or from what. What had she done to deserve this sudden terrible change? Things were happening so quickly, so soon after her mom's death, that she was overcome. All she could do was cry, and pray.

As suddenly as he began, Reele finished. Though he'd muttered nothing coherent he ceased his oration, took a puff, and smiled in smug satisfaction. He then said good night and ordered the girl to act her age, go to her room and behave herself, which she did as if in a trance. With knees weak and head bowed, Laura exited, leaving a trail of tears in her wake.

Laura's life was becoming a nightmare, a long scary road. It was not a winding, gently curving yellow brick road, but a narrow and straight forkless road. She'd find no talking scarecrow in need of a brain here, nor companions willing to help her find a wizard.

Mr. Reele Paines watched the door close behind his daughter and then rose to his feet. He walked to a nearby shelf, picked up a decanter and poured himself a glass of Scotch. "Fucking brat, just like her fucking mom," he hissed to himself. "Now where's Thelma, that wicked witch, Thelma!"