When We Were Mortals

by E. S. Mercer

  “You look like shit, Zar,” I uttered, trying to steady myself to hold her up. “What did you do last night?”

  “I honestly have no idea,” she responded. “Did I see you last night?” It seemed that neither one of us could remember the anything about the night before. So much so, that Zara didn’t even remember going to the club or the fact that in a drunken stupor, she had managed to invite a crowd back with her to the loft.

  From the bottom of the stairs to the far reaches of our loft, were empty beer cans, clothing, and at least thirty hung over and very confused strangers.

  “So much for a nap,” I announced loudly enough for everyone to hear me. I wasn’t about to hide the fact that I was mad. Especially when I found three very naked people laying sideways across my bed.

  “Seriously Zara?” I asked, dragging one of them off by their feet. “What the hell did you do last night?

  “I have no freaking idea,” she cried, throwing her hands in the air. “I don’t even remember being home last night.” I was too tired to fight, so I bit my tongue, growling just enough to indicate how irritated I was and then started booting people out. It took two hours, but we finally managed to empty out the place, collect up trash, dirty sheets and clothing that was not so surprisingly left behind.

  I pulled out a set of clean sheets and started to make my bed. As I stood up, I turned to look in the mirror above my nightstand when I saw a Noita’s face reflected at me. I didn’t remember who he was at the time, so I reached up, pawing at my own face, terrified. Did I turn into a flamboyant and freakishly strange man overnight?

  “Who are you?” he called out. When I didn’t answer, the glass began to ripple, as he reached his hands through to grab ahold of my face. Next thing I knew, I was transported back to the club, where I stood in front of the creepy little man.

  “What are you talking about?” I yelled over the loud music. Realizing that I was actually there with him, he panicked and started backing away. “What do you remember?” he asked me, visibly shaken as he began wringing his hands and panting.

  “Noita?” I blurted, “That’s your name!”

  “Shit,” he muttered, poking me hard in the chest with his metal claw. Next thing I knew, I was back in the loft, sheet in hand, feeling sick to my stomach. I dropped everything I was doing, glanced over at Zara who was now singing in the shower and laid down on the bed, quickly passing out.

  After a short nap, Zara helped me get ready for my date. Excited by the thought of me finally meeting someone, she chattered non-stop about the idea of me breaking out of my shell.

  “Just don’t forget about me when you are all in love,” she announced, winking and slapping me on my ass as I walked out the door.

  “You are a mess,” I said as I waved, never looking back. “Love you too!” *****

  One date turned into two and two into more than a month of being inseparable. Each moment we were away from our jobs, we spent with each other. He either stayed with me and Zara, or we stayed at his place…mostly his place. We valued any privacy we could get; just learning to enjoy each other’s company and forget the world around us. He would take me to parts of the city where we would have dinner by the ocean or listen to new bands on the roof tops of museums and artist nests. Beat poetry nights, held by the local Artisan Cheese and Wine café would turn into nights of him spelling out in lyrical form, his feelings for me.

  There were times when I would forgo sleep just to sit in the back of the class and listen to him teach. I would hang on his every word as he spent hours inciting young students to fall in love with classic literature. He had a passion for it beyond what I could comprehend, and it showed every time he opened his mouth.

  When we were alone he treated me as if I was a goddess, a savior and the very champion of his soul. It was as if he lived to serve me and thought nothing of himself in the process. I would try to explain to him that there was no need for any of it, but he always insisted that I allow it to happen.

  I found myself getting lost in him and everything we did. I had a deep respect for him and he showed me an appreciation I had never experienced before. He thanked me constantly for giving him a chance, explaining how life changing it was for him.

  “I haven’t done much,” I said one Saturday morning, cuddled up beside him in bed. “I have just been enjoying my time with you.”

  “That is enough for me,” he replied, kissing the top of my head. “For me, that is more than enough.” The more time I spent around him, the more I realized just how unique the man really was. Born into privilege, he refused to live the life his parents wished for him, demanding to hold on to his humanity while he could. He told me that one day he swore never to live as they did, or else he would lose himself in the wealth and power they flaunted, becoming less of a real man.

  His father was Alistair Renaldi, CEO of the Renaldi and Banks PR firm and heir to the largest Real Estate Development Company in Heaven City. A known member of the Masons and interim Mayor of Heaven City, Alistair was quite famous and arguably infamous in most circles. Soon he hoped to win the emergency election for Mayor and claim the title he coveted.

  Ryan’s mother, Elaina, was a senior partner at Renaldi, Garbos and Zawinski Law firm, a high-priced firm that represented the cities government officials and criminals equally. She too was known for her antics and with her rate of winning in the court room, becoming one of the most feared defense attorneys to fight on the wrong side of the law.

  But he spoke little of his parents, as he never truly had a close relationship with them. His father, who never treated him with any respect, all but shunned him when he chose to become a professor and philanthropist rather than follow in either of their footsteps.

  If it weren’t for his mother, who demanded they have brunch as a family every couple months, he would probably never see them at all. “My mother wants to meet you at our next brunch,” Ryan blurted one morning over coffee. “I told her you probably weren’t interested, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I contested in jolly banter. “I would love to meet your mother! I want to know where the great Ryan Renaldi came from!” “My parents are not a true representation of me or where I came from!” he retorted, getting a bit huffy by the thought. “You cannot judge me by them.”

  “But they are your parents are they not?” I asked in a less jovial tone. “I am sure I will see a glimpse of you in them.”

  “Not in the way you think,” he answered, easing up a bit. “They are not the ones that raised me.”

  This little nugget of information was new to me, but he refused to give me more.

  “I know it is short notice, but brunch is actually scheduled for tomorrow at eleven.”

  “And I would be honored to go with you,” I assured him with a sarcastic curtsy. So, the next day we ventured into the Flush District to meet with his parents for lunch. They, being the one of the most elite families in Heaven City, never left the Flush District, unless to work in the Federal, travel abroad or head to their estate in the country. Any of the other Districts beneath them, were considered dangerous to anyone of their status. At least, that is the way they looked at it.

  We met at the Frais, a French café the Renaldi family frequented every Sunday morning. A place where waiters knew their order before they were ever scheduled to arrive. But this particular morning, in order to cater to my presence, they decided to try something new on the menu.

  When we arrived, we were greeted by a very formal host, who led us to a private room in the back of the restaurant. Habitually, twenty minutes early and irritated by anyone who did not do the same, was his mother, who sat waiting alone, until we arrived.

  “Before you say anything, we are ten minutes early,” Ryan announced, as he walked over and gave the staunch woman a kiss. She was clearly a rigid and emotionless woman, but the touch of his lips to her cheek relaxed her in a very apparent manner. Her eyes softened as she placed her hand on his cheek a
nd gave what looked to be a smile meant only for him.

  “It is not you that annoys me, darling,” she said in a more tempered voice, waiting for me to shake her hand. “Your father and sister are late as usual.”

  “Oh, he has a sister?” I blurted as I held out my hand. Her attitude quickly changed as she looked over at him, stunned to hear his sister was never mentioned. He shrugged his shoulders as she shook my hand and motioned for me to have a seat.

  “Her name is Veronica,” Ryan offered, as he pulled out my chair. “But we call her Ronni.” Soon after we sat down, his father finally arrived. The workaholic had come straight from his firm and felt annoyed with the thought of being away from his work. Weekends were meant for the firm since he spent all week at City Hall and to pause for a meaningless breakfast didn’t sit well with him. His attitude about it was very apparent as he said nothing to either one of us, sat down, opened his menu and pretended to be reading.

  After a good five minutes of ignoring us, he glanced over the top of his menu to catch a glimpse at me. Then, he hid behind it again, trying desperately to hide his surprise. Then, after regaining his composure, he lowered it a bit, keeping his eyes fixed on me.

  “And you are?” he asked. “Um, I’m Anessa.” I answered, keeping my hands folded in my lap. “Anessa what?” he growled, as if I knew I was supposed to give a last name. But I didn’t respond, again forgetting which name Ksenia had given me.

  “Well?” he asked again.

  I sucked at thinking on my feet, so Ryan jumped in for me.

  “O’Shea. Her name is Anessa O’Shea.” he bellowed. “Satisfied?” Alistair and Ryan sat glaring at each other, as if they were saying so much without uttering a word. I could feel the tensions rise as Alistair chose not to hide his disappointment and disgust while Ryan, not caring what his father felt, sat with a strange grin.

  “The only O’Shea’s I know didn’t amount to a hole heck of a lot,” Ryan’s sister interrupted as she sauntered towards the table, purposefully late. She was obviously a girl who marched to the beat of her own drums, dressed in leggings that unattractively hugged her rather plump bottom half and boots that buckled under the weight of her thighs. The shirt she wore, hung poorly over her deflated chest, exposing what looked to be her attempt to wear a push up bra. Her hair, bleached to a color that matched her pale skin, screamed of an earlier walk of shame.

  For her to say anything about anyone, was ridiculous to say the least. She ran to her brother, swooning over him as any woman would over a crush. It was inappropriate to say the least as she fought to find his lips, while he jerked them away from her at all costs. The more he fought, the more she made a scene, causing her parents hid behind their menu’s in shame.

  For a family who seemed to rely on their reputation, they were bit of a mess.

  Needless to say, I could feel what each one of them was feeling, hearing thoughts that they probably wished were kept private. Elaine, feeling stuck in a loveless marriage, thought of someone else. Someone from her past, someone that she knew in her heart she could never see again. A man, though not in her life now, was the only man she would ever love. Alistair, the man whose name she carried, could never compare to him.

  Alistair, who had loved Elaine once, grew tired of her bitterness and shame. He could feel how weary she was of him, but he couldn’t stand the thought of letting her go. Whatever they had - it worked in the public eye and he would rather stand her rancor than the embarrassment of a divorce. Now more than anything, he needed her to do what she did best and put on a forced front for his campaign.

  Ryan, who acted as if he was the biggest embarrassment to his parents, was actually the one they both valued most. You could feel the way they both felt about him, despite what they or he ever said. There was something more to him than he was willing to admit and they worshipped it.

  It didn’t take much to get a read on Ronni. Her constant overcompensation hid the self-loathing she suffered, as she desperately tried to force each one of them to love her. Not that they didn’t love her, they just didn’t love her the way she wanted them too: Ryan especially. She looked at him with a clear fantasy of what life would be like if he wasn’t her brother. And even then, I doubted that she even cared about that.

  “I am so sorry,” Ryan whispered as he kissed near my ear, interrupting my thoughts, “but this is the horror that is my family.”

  “It’s ok,” I chuckled, grabbing and squeezing his hand under the table. “It’s entertaining.” Watching the affection between the two of us started to make Alistair visibly uncomfortable, causing him to throw down his menu and bolt up from his seat.

  “Ryan, can I have a word with you in private?” he asked, pushing his chair back, while holding my gaze. “I feel it is rather important.”

  I could feel a shift in his thoughts, as he became a bit fearful of my presence.

  “Let me guess,” I said to the Patriarch of the Renaldi family. “I remind you of someone too!”

  He stopped in his tracks, sitting back down in his chair. “And you are saying you are not her?” he asked, glancing over at Ryan. “I assure you, I am me. If the ‘her’ you are referring to is the one that Ryan used to love. I am not her. I would remember that.”

  “Hardly,” he muttered under his breath, leaning towards his son. “You do realize what this means do you not?” he asked.

  Ryan shook his head, assuring his father, asking him to continue the conversation later. “I wish that we could enjoy our brunch, so that Anessa and I might be on our way,” Ryan added, picking his menu back up. “I imagine she has had enough entertainment for the day.”

  I looked over at Ronni, who was now leaning on the table to hold herself up as she sipped from a flask she pulled from her purse. Elaine, doing her best to try to ignore the others at the table, carefully pulled petite sized bites of her food to her mouth, chewing as delicately as a lady could, while Alistair, who desperately wanted the conversation to continue, kept a close watch of me throughout the entire meal. At one point, he opened his mouth to ask a question, but was shut down by Ryan telling tales of how we met.

  It was then that I realized how much I really did care for him. His family was a mess, yes, but he felt like home to me. Listening to how he talked about me and what it meant for me to be in his life allowed me to see just how important our being together was. It may not be where I thought was going, be he brought me to a place I knew I needed to be.

  Chapter IV

  Shortly after our visit with the Renaldi’s and working a fourteen hour shift, my less than peaceful sleep was disturbed by a boisterous knock at the door. I chose to ignore it for a moment, but when I didn’t answer, the knocking continued.

  Irritated by my lack of sleep and this rude disturbance, I jumped up out of bed and scuffled to the door, forgetting I was still in my underwear. I squinted as hard as I could, trying to adjust my blurry vision, while looking through the dirty peephole.

  “Can I help you?” I asked the priggishly dressed woman on the other side.

  “I have a package for you,” she said, through her graceless yet ample lips.

  “You can just leave it there,” I said, through a yawn.

  She shuffled her stilettos, indicating that she wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Fine,” I said, unlocking the door with a noticeable sigh. “Come in.”

  “Mr. Renaldi hopes that you will not share the details of this envelope with Ryan whatsoever,” the string bean said as she shoved it in my face.

  “What details,” I asked, trying to grab at the manila obstruction. “I am not privy to that,” she responded, putting her oversized sunglasses on, twiddling the straps of her purse. “I was just instructed to hand deliver it to you.”

  She whipped around and headed towards the threshold. “I assume that whatever it says, it is something you should follow.”

  “Or what?” I asked, following behind her.

  “Or, he will persist until you do,” she said, pulling
the door shut behind her. I looked down at the envelope in my hands and decided that I was just too tired to care what was inside. So, I threw it on the bedside table and plopped back down into my ridiculously overused mattress, praying to fall back to sleep. But I ended up just lying there, staring at the thing, convincing myself not to open it.

  “Pandora’s box, I bet you,” I muttered to myself, as I ripped it off the table. I slid my finger under the lip of the envelope, as any normal person would, when something bit me. I felt the paper slice through few layers of skin, but it wasn’t like any other paper cut. When it didn’t cut deep enough the first time, it cut me again, until it finally made me bleed. The edge of the envelope then wicked the blood, and dispersed it through the grains of the paper, like a strange vein, running towards the center before it swiftly disappeared. As soon as it vanished, the envelope opened itself the rest of the way.

  I pulled the letter out, slowly, as to prevent any further harm, all while asking myself if I believed what just happened. I didn’t attract drama like some girls, instead, I attracted the strange, unusual and downright creepy. And this, was definitely strange.

  It turns out the letter was more of an ultimatum for dating Mr. Renaldi’s son. It seemed that he was not comfortable with the fact that I held a lesser status at the college, demanding that I remedy the situation immediately. In conclusion, I was to come to his PR firm immediately and apply for a job where I could learn a trade. I was to earn a position that would be worthy of the Renaldi name and be in a place where I could be protected from those who wanted to infiltrate their family.

  I was also instructed to not tell Ryan of my plans, until we could assure him that it was my idea. “What a crock of shit,” I thought out loud as I threw the papers on the floor. The fact that he thought my job was beneath Ryan, caused me to want to stick with it even more. I loved my job. Did I want to something different someday? Definitely. Because he told me so? Definitely not!