Cezzane art for an impression...
Art-aware readers will get the joke.
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I hear a sound from the staircase, and my head immediately spins around to confirm who I think it is. It's Azrael. He's been cooped upstairs in his room for about an hour since he went up there and I followed him to see if he was alright. He's not as pale and also he smiles softly as he walks into to the living room.
"Hello," he says as he sits down on the couch, "I hope I did not cause a stir."
"Not at all," I say.
"You alright kiddo?" asks Dad.
"Yes," replies Azrael with a nod, "there's no issue."
"You sure?" asks Dad, and I see Mom and Dia along with Mallord observing Azrael closely.
"Yes. Nothing is wrong, sir," replies Azrael reassuringly.
Dad doesn't miss the fact that Azrael called him 'sir' but doesn't pursue it. If I were to venture a guess why Dad likes to have Azrael call him 'Dad', it's probably because now that Azrael is sitting in front of him, he considers him part of our family. And Dad may have been in the military where they have those protocols of addressing one another, but he doesn't extend that to family members.
So in a sense, Dad sees Azrael not calling him 'Dad' as a rejection of being included in our family. So maybe Dad is subtly offended.
But that's not strange to think. Azrael did state that he had issues with his family, and it may have to do with has father now that it's revealed that he doesn't want to use that word.
"Are we still going to go shopping?" asks Mallord to me.
"I can go," I reply to Mallord.
"Are you coming?" he asks Dia.
"Sure."
"You want to go shopping with us, Azrael? We're just going to o pick up some groceries and drinks," I offer.
"Sure," says Azrael.
"I have a list," says Mom as she goes to the kitchen to pull it off the fridge, "I'll go grab it."
"Mild question," says Azrael as we get up from the couch and head to the doors, "where are we going shopping? I didn't really see any shops."
"There's a town about fifteen minutes away," I answer, "not far. We go there for shopping all the time."
"Okay then," says Azrael, "I look forward to seeing it."
Mallord walks out of the kitchen with Dia and the list, and then we walk outside to where Mallord has his car parked. Mallord works in Houston and drives here every holiday with his car, as we ride it to town.
I sit in the back with Dia while Mallord says that Azrael should sit in the front with him.
"How old are you?" asks Mallord.
"I'm twenty-seven," replies Azrael, "how about you?"
"Twenty-six," answers Mallord, "I though you were younger than me."
"Is that why you called him a kid earlier?" asks Dia with a smile.
"No! Well," protests Mallord as he blushes, "maybe."
Dia, and Azrael laugh as Mallord mumbles how Dia "Didn't have to mention it."
"No worries, Mallord. I get that a great deal. It's not an offense," says Azrael.
"That's good," says Mallord, "I wouldn't want to offend my little brother's boss."
"I won't be firing him anytime soon," says Azrael as he turns back in his seat to give me a smile, "he's far too valuable to me at this point in my life."
Dia looks over at me with a raised brow, but Azrael turns back to Mallord, saying, "As an assistant. And a helper."
"I wish I could afford a helper," says Mallord.
"What's you occupation?" asks Azrael.
"I work as a banker. Not up in the ranks, but with enough income," replies Mallord.
"Which firm are you a part of?" asks Azrael as he narrows his eyes.
"Will & Friends," replies Mallord, "why?"
"Nothing," says Azrael as he turns away to look out the window, "the scene is quite nice, isn't it?"
"It certainly is," agrees Dia, "where're you from, Azrael?'
"I'm from Alaska," answers Azrael, and I realize that I never asked that question myself.
"Ooh," says Dia, "compared to there, the weather must be quite a difference!"
"It definitely is," answers Azrael, "it's quite warm here, even in the winter."
"May I ask your occupation?" asks Azrael to Dia.
"I work right now to be a psychotherapist," answers Dia, "I'm almost done with my education and soon I think I will be able to start practicing."
"Where will you practice?" asks Azrael.
"I think here in Texas. It's close to home and I like it here."
"Why did you go all the way to D.C. instead of staying in Alaska?" asks Dia curiously, "for you business, that is."
"Err..." starts Azrael, but again he doesn't answer I can see the side of his visible to me pale again.
"It's...more convenient to be in D.C."
His answer does make sense, but there's obviously more to it than just what he states. I'm starting to pull the idea that Azrael doesn't like to talk about his family or about his home. It's a rather touchy subject that disturbs him quite a great deal.
Though, thinking back now to when he did mention his family to me in late October, it does seem that he can talk about it with me. But not with people like my family. The demarcation between myself and my family is that Azrael seems to trust me more, and therefore can disclose more about his fears to me than other people.
He must really have a special place for me in his heart. Maybe not romantically, which I hope it to be. But it could be, if he's so open with me. Maybe he has a partiality to me.
Soon in a few minutes we arrive at the town. It's a tiny town with people in working vehicles driving around. In the back of trunks I can spot some dirt and lumber. Farmers outside of stores chat and some puff a cigarette together.
After stepping out of the car once we arrive at the market, we walk into the store, grabbing a shopping cart as we laze through the aisles. We need some produce and a few other things, but we also grab a few of what we see and want.
"Um, Hogarth?" asks Azrael as he and I walk down the snack aisle. Dia and Mallord are getting the wine.
"Yes?" I answer, and my attention is fully on him.
"Do you mind if I get one of these?" he asks as he points to a jar of mixed candy. Lollipop, chews, and wrapped pieces of sweetness. Similar to what I get for him back at the office.
"Not at all!" I say with a smile, and reach up to put it in the cart.
"Thank you," says Azrael.
"Are you alright?" I ask him as we walk down the aisle, "With everything?"
"Yes," replies Azrael, "I'm alright. I may have caused a wrinkle back there, but it's nothing to worry about."
"Was is bad that I brought you here?" I ask, slightly guilty that I might've pulled him into an uncomfortable situation.
"Not at all," says Azrael, "it's more of...an internal issue that needs resolving."
"Do you need help resolving it?" I ask.
"No, I don't think so," he says as he averts his eyes, "if I need help I will make sure to ask you."
"Well," I say as I come to the understanding that Azrael's not going to be telling me anything soon, "as long as you're alright."
After meeting up with Dia and Mallord, we go the the register and pay up before leaving. Outside the sun has started to set and clouds that trail across the horizon catch the light and give soft hues to the skies. The warm weather of the Texas climate reminds of of my younger days, and I can't help but feel at home.
Getting into the car, we drive home. We open the windows and let the wind wander in. This time I sit in the front with Dia and Azrael in the back. They chat a little and converse.
When I turn back once I see that Azrael is looking out his window that's open as Dia points to something outside. The wind pushes his hair back and because that wind also blows in his face he's squinted his eyes a little. Though it does make his eyes smaller it does also give him a placid appearance, and I keep that image in my mind. Not to mention the lights above from the sky illuminates his face, and the same light catches the dark grey of his eyes and I can't help but feel that it's magical how it does bring life into his face.
Arriving home in the early evening with no sun, the warm yellow lights from inside flicker warmly. Grabbing the groceries, we go inside where Mom and Dad are making dinner in the kitchen. It seems to be some kind of soup with homemade bread baked fresh out of the oven. Corn bread and the normal loaves. It steams still and Mom starts cutting it with jumping hands.
"It's just some bread and chicken stew," says Dad as he sees the four of us enter, "hope you like it, kiddo."
It's obvious that he's talking to Azrael because he calls the three of his actual offspring by their names. It takes a moment for Azrael to realize this though.
"Oh, um," says Azrael as he notices that nobody else has responded and it's him being addressed, "I don't mind at all. It smells delightful."
"C'mere and try some," offers Dad.
Azrael surprisingly doesn't resist at all and drinks some of the creamy broth from a spoon that's offered.
"Do you like it?" Dad asks Azrael with an expectant smile.
"I do," replies Azrael with his own smile, "the taste really is soft and amazing. There's also a hint of spice that I really enjoy."
"Aw," says Dad as he pulls Azrael into a side hug, "you're making me blush!"
Dad does take pride in his cooking, and Mom likes to say that that's one of the reasons she married him.
"If you could," says Mom as she holds out a plate of cut bread to him, "would you take this over to the table?"
"Yes, ma'am," replies Azrael, and helps in preparing for dinner.
"You three can help too once all the produce and whatnot is put in the fridge," says Dad to the three of us.
We all answer to do so and soon there's food being brought to the table in large quantities. Living on a farm I guess has many merits, and one of them is that there's food from the land. Among the soup and bread that Mom and Dad, especially Dad since he would like credit for it, are other vegetables like corn on the cob with plenty of butter, peas and diced corn, and sliced tomatoes with basil and cheese.
After the food has been brought to the table the six of us wander to the table and start to eat. Dad makes sure to sit next to Azrael and try to make him more comfortable in the house, making up for the earlier incident with Azrael fleeing the room. Azrael seems to understand that and talks with him lively, but I sense that Azrael is still keeping a distance with him and trying to be partially aloof. It's visible as so since he still calls him 'sir', which every now and then I see one of Dad's eyebrows twitch.
Halfway during the meal, Beth comes down from sleeping and joins the table at one of the empty chairs. She's a little demure among strangers but more open among family. I would think that since there's Azrael she'd retreat into herself, which does occur initially. But in a few minutes she's started to talk with him as well and converses warmly. I guess maybe Azrael being so small compared to the rest of us lowers her security and let's her ber herself more.
Compared to other bosses in the world, the ones who are 'alpha male' stereotypes, Azrael would be more fitting as the assistant from his appearance. With him and I standing next to each other, people would probably mistake me as the CEO Azrael Durst while he's the helping hand.
Though, from his appearance alone you wouldn't know that he's a charitable person, or that he's also delicate in a way that is not visible on the outside. Not to mention that he leaves tiny kind words to everyone without realizing. He might try to hide his kind nature. But I see it quite well in the time that I do observe him and converse with him.
So I don't know why he hides it.