In the realm of haze, I lost my way. In a trance state, my consciousness locked up. The road to home never felt capricious.

Accompanied by my mother, we left the dangerous site after the end of the primary investigation.

The combustive dinner party ended, leaving my brain suffocated under the ash.

The harsh order my father whispered in my ears, still biting the bottom of my perception.

As startled as I was, his voice carried the savor of someone whose cooking went against his expectations. In a bad way… In a good way… I couldn't guess.

The key was thrown at my hands, while his back faded towards the flickering light of security services.

Thankfully, our car escaped the damage.

I glared at the surging gray smoke, the debris, then at the panicked guests. The wounded individuals weren't many. The place stormed with the police agents, but the safety of my mother topped the list of my priorities. Especially when the sound of gunshots took long to stop.

No one could predict their next target.

I drove the car away. Through the front mirror, my mother's face reflected in my eyes.

She sat quietly in the back seat. Her head tilted to the window. Calmly, she watched the busy view outside. I expected her to look disturbed, stressed, yet to my amazement, her calmness defeated a priest in his prayer.

What a level-headed woman. I never witnessed her lose to the panic.

The corner of my lips bent up and before I made my final exit from the site, I demanded: "What about Evelyn?"

Actually, it was the same question that left my throat when my father appeared to give me the key.

He ignored the query while he insisted that I should take good care of my mother for the time being.

I also asked him the reason why he was staying behind, but he didn't answer. He left me dwelling on my confusion.

"Don't worry about her? I am certain that she is well protected."

There were a lot of questions in the back of my mind, to the point that I have overlooked my mother's confidence about Evelyn's whereabouts or her protection.

Akin to dream, the accelerated events of this evening passed. It dumped me into a sticky swamp of topics, I hated to be in the middle of it.

Questions stormed my foggy head, gunshots, explosion… Who was the shooter? What was his aim? Are they targeting the Olvera or one of their guests?

My heart sank at the last question.

I sighed, relieved…

No suspicious person approached my parents. All the time, I stayed vigilant.

Old grudges, I didn't want to think about them, at this moment.

I shook my head to clear it from all this mess. In the mirror, my eyes stole another glance. The reflection of my mother's face didn't change. The breath stuck up my lungs in fear, asking a question I shouldn't acknowledge.

Our eyes Indirectly met. Her eyebrows relaxed while advising: "Kieran, focus on the road. That moment, I knew, she knew about what I wanted to find.

My concentration all went to the dark road in front. Swallowing back my insecurities. nip by nip.

"Kieran…" In that split of seconds, my eyes slightly shifted, watching her reflection.

"It's not what you think at all."

This tone, I recognized it. The one full of concern to protect my fragile ego by not telling me the truth.

Coaxing the car for further speed, my opportunity for better clarification arrived: "Then why had I chosen to accompany you?"

The speed was high, yet I diverged my eyes to imprison my mother's reflection. Witnessing the indifference as she looked back, her lips twisted, some words refused to leave her throat.

The doubt, the anticipation gnawed at my heart and I accelerated further.

"Didn't you say you knew August?"

Hell, when?

There must be some kind of misunderstanding here. But I just kept silent.

"Your father thought; your presence may melt the ice."

What? From where came this big misunderstanding?

Yes, I knew August, I knew his profile from the far margin, the rumors that wrap his personage. we are not friends, we are not even an acquaintance.

"That's all?" I demanded, suppressing the escalating tension. Even the car speed slowed down.

"Is there supposed to be something else?" In a superficial curiosity, my mother inquired.

My driving became stable, I didn't sneak any glimpse when I answered with "No."

A few more turns and we finally arrived at the main house.

The first one to greet us was Alfred. He stood in front of the main gate. Hands behind his back, along with few guards. Right away, I guessed that the news reached his ears. Fayina emerged from behind him. Waving her hands in happiness, oblivious to the danger in this world. The smile extended to my lips against my will as I observed her getting reprimanded by Alfred and sent back to the house.

Inside the front yard, Alfred, with his index finger, tapped on my window. In response, I let the glass drop, waiting to hear what he had for me to tell.

As calm as my mother, his expression held a suppressed satisfaction.

"Don't worry about Evelyn, she is okay, she came before you a few moments ago with her fiancée."

It bugged me, not what he said, but his terrifying calmness. Maybe he was informed about our well-being.

I sighed in relief before I answered him:

"Good, but how about my father? Why did he stay there?"

Alfred ignored my inquiry and tried to flee to my mother, helping her get out of the car.

 

Inside, when Evelyn's eyes captured the two of us, she jogged toward us sighing in relief thanking God for our safety.

I expected her fiancée to be also here, however; I was wrong.

She displayed her worries quite frankly. Talkative she became when stressed.

"Kieran?" Pinching my right cheek: "Why didn't you pick up your phone when I called you?"

In defense, I took out my junk phone showing her proof. The battery was dead.

Implying to direct her anger to my mother's policy, I mean, unjustified hate towards using cell-phones.

Instead, she went and hugged her tightly. Asking about her well-being. All concern and fears.

 

The atmosphere was digestible, supportive after the surprising shock I tasted today. As I had returned to those traumatizing days of my childhood.

Yet, after midnight, my worries bubbled under the mercy of my own demons.

I didn't know how the night had passed, or how I got to my room. And before I could get wrapped in a deep sleep. Memories of my few past days flashed like a burst of lightning; the goodbye, the train, the invitation, the diner, the gunshots, the explosion…

My brain reviewed the events, scene by scene. In a format of a horrifying nightmare. It even mixed more details. Like how I pretended that I didn't see the whispered words. Or the eyes signals flying over my head.

Mother? My presence melts the ice for... exactly... what?

****

No matter how distant the morning was, it came.

The light of the sun burned the resentful inner demons in the hell of forgetfulness. As if they never existed.

Yet this morning wasn't like any morning of the fourteen past days. The short break ended. To the dormitory, to my courses, today, I am preparing for my return.

Aware of this fact, my body acted as sluggish as a donkey, as heavy as a wheat bag. While I packed my things. Fayina's ever childish voice called my name from the floor to the first floor.

"Ki-e-ra-n…. The breakfast is ready."

Human beings are truly strange, how can one sentence send me to the clouds.

The good smell of freshly baked bread guided me to the kitchen where I saw a lot of boxes for storing dishes.

My brother's wife and Evelyn were focused on adding the final touches to the breakfast meal. My mother, the main cook, the supervisor. Her nagging reached my ears. From behind, she ordered: "Don't block the kitchen entrance."

Her mood was as bright as the sun. She turned her attention to Fayina scolding and teaching: "When I send you to call for someone, don't yell their name all over the house," She took a set of doilies, stuffing them into Fayina's hands: "Dear, take this to the table and go to your father study then call for him."

I nodded in affirmation, murmuring: "So my father has come back. I wonder when?"

Another scolding word rained down mother's lips. They were directed at me this time: "Kieran… Don't stand in the way, if you are not going to help."

Her extended hand, trying to reach the teapot beyond my back.

That teapot flew above my intentionally lowered head. Even so, I won an earful: "Get out of here before you cause an accident."

"Sara? Did you prepare the…"

"For whom all those lunch boxes are made for?" Forcibly inserting myself, I cut into the conversation. Yes, we are a big house. Yet all this food and those boxes. This was supposed to be a breakfast, not a dinner party. Are we having some guests?

Hand on my left shoulder, I let my body dragged: " Traditional dishes made especially to suit your taste. For you to take them." A genuine smile painted her face while she expelled me out of her way, and out from the whole kitchen.

The enthusiasm suddenly broke into my body. Exploded happiness in a flare. My head stuck at the entrance expressing immense gratitude. The mouth moved on its own: "Thank you, mum."

"Don't thank me, thank your sister and Sara."

The door was shut, then reopened: "Ah, I need to check the table in the dining room." Mother's obsession with etiquettes amazed me.

Compared to the joy playing in my head, getting banned from the kitchen was nothing.

I danced into the living room ecstatic, only Alfred's sublime presence choked my reasoning back. Holding the TV remote control, his high concentration stole my happiness. Alfred's seriousness floats solely in serious situations.

Watching the morning news. I read the headlines, recalled what happened yesterday. Then I submerged into reality.

What had happened yesterday wasn't a nightmare. Eyes glued to the big screen, the memories rushed from their grave. How could I overlook this matter in the span of hours? An adult I am now. The obligation to start paying attention to the ongoing matters around my life, my family, something I should embrace with a wide chest and an open mind.

*****

"The victim was Miranda Trills, a 24 years old promising new designer and the only child of Patrick Trills, the CEO of SOC-PION. the explosion burned her body dead in her room, in the same hotel where her engagement party to August Olvera was held…

The witnesses reported that they have heard the sound of an explosion from the west direction. And it happened exactly below Miranda's room. The first investigation implies that the cause of the explosion was a technical malfunction that couldn't detect the massive gaze leak. Few individuals were also heavily injured and dozens more escaped with some scratches…"

Unexpectedly, the channel was changed.

"No… " I yelled,

Alfred, who finally noticed my presence, I spotted him maneuvering the remote control. His motive, straight away, I understood it.

Upset, I ran towards him, snatching the tool from his hand. My movement, slick, rapid, and tricky. He only woke up at the voice of the journalist and pictures of last night's explosion when I switched the channel back.

Eager to hear the full report about last night's accident, I didn't notice the concealed hand behind me, stealing back the remote control from me and changing the channel again.

Angry, displeased about this distasteful gesture, I looked behind to discern the identity of the culprit to manifest my objection. And here came the unexpected. The calm, solemn feature of my father. His extended hand holding the remote control.

I swallowed back the mouthful of vexed words I prepared in the past seconds. Sometimes, very aggressive, I became. Especially when someone sat between me and the object of my desire.

His criticizing tone, as serene as the waterfall. No anger hid amidst the clear syllables: "If you really seek the truth about what exactly happened yesterday, you shouldn't listen to the lies that have been fabricated by the men behind the media."

My peaceful and lazy lineaments had changed to a mishmash of confusion and disapproval…

Overlooking what I committed seconds ago, the act that my father has committed against me, the fact I wasn't able to say anything to confront him.

Because deep down, I knew that what he had said touched a portion of reality. The way he used to say it even hit hard. Confirmed my still lingering childishness.

 

I had the chance to see on more than one occasion how the media had played with the facts to give their stories a completely different ambiance. Yet, an individual, as powerless as myself, as limited as a bird in a cage. From where could I winnow the facts.

 

Alfred's face reflected into my eyes. Irritation, anger was dart he threw at me. I bet my father's presence denied him the delight of satisfying revenge.

In a blink of an eye, his attention shifted, peered at the entrance of the living room. There, I cached the shadow of Jacob fading from my line of sight.

An intense look momentarily tainted Alfred's visage.

At breakfast, no one touched on the subject of last night. It was like the incident didn't concern us or more like what occurred had never happened at all.

Savoring the aroma of Coffee, I observed the movement of everybody with suspicious eyes.

The feeling of being left in the dark, akin to a needle sting, harmless but irritating. In the end, I decided to eat my breakfast in peace.

 

This wasn't the first time our house got entangled in those kinds of affairs.

Whether murder, kidnapping, mafia conflict, terrorism… To a point, a dinner party's explosion was a mere routine, like a piece of weekend news about some celebrity scandals.

Maybe this, a consequence of the McCarthy house line of work. Being far for several months, spending some time away living a seemingly normal life, like most normal people. It somehow made me forget about my identity.

Those superficial assumptions, how much I was wrong about them.

 

****

The next day, the luck smiled wide at my face. I received an offer, rare to come, hard to decline. It made me kiss farewell, the train ticket I booked.

On this one occasion, I betrayed the railway in favor of something better, faster, and neater. My road to the new semester was paved between the high clouds of the sky.

Jacob, my second eldest brother, offered me the opportunity to accompany him since he was tasked with a mission in the same city as my destination. A mission that involved flying in a private helicopter.

Without a second thought, oblivious, I voiced my cheer approval.

 

The intimidating Jacob, the enigma of the McCarthy, the hardest person to approach, of course, from my point of view.

I found Jacob a carbon copy of my grandfather, not just in temperament, but also in appearance. He rarely offers his services without an explicit demand, yet he also rarely refuses when he gets asked for help.

My closeness to him was limited to the superficial interaction in the morning at breakfast and the evening gathering of a dinner. In between, a speechless exchange danced amidst the void that separated us.

Except in some specific situations, the spectator will uphold the splashed conversation surrounding two awkward individuals, unable to communicate properly, and this was one of those rare occasions.

Compared to Evelyn or Alfred. He is, mostly, a man of few words, better saying a man of actions.

I assumed the source of the problem laid in his silent, very cold personality, the frightening aurora that he emitted making me afraid to even look into his direction.

He sometimes became aggressive in the light of the invisible war of rivalry between him and Alfred. A war that is known to us all except our parents.

Deeply touched by his unexpected offer, I was. The look of pity that stashed under his stern lineaments completely passed through my radar.

Evelyn told me once, this was Jacob's way to voice his concern, to show his affection. I must have instigated a great deal of pity.

***

From above, the sceneries of earth molded a distinct flavor. Next to the window, pleased, I sat, drawing into the sorrowful beauty of existence.

The last time I enjoyed a blissful ride, I didn't remember when. However, perfection in this world was hard to attain.

Other than me, the pilot, which was Jacob. Two people accompanied us.

My wonderful delight sugared a sour flavor of anxiety and awkwardness. My mind tumbled, my thoughts stagnated. Next to me, on my left, I barely felt my shoulder that neighboured August Olvera.

It took me a few minutes to discover that I was the only flustered being on this trip.

The foxy old-man, the owner of the fake smiles at the dinner party, was also with us. I didn't like him, just by looking at him I felt the pain as if my skin was pierced by a thousand needles.

The whole trip surfed on uneasiness, the silent glances were my only companion, no one tried to talk to the other. Apart from a few questions and answers between the pilot and the old man about the distance and high.

Relieved at the sight of the marked spot where the helicopter was supposed to land. I breathed out the accumulated discomfort.

Atop one of the high-rise buildings owned by the Olvera. This was my stop, I recognized the massive building. The park near it was a popular dating spot. More than one time, I invited Anna there. That was how my mind triggered, and I decided to go and give her a surprise visit.