Silver
Age Seventeen
Timing is important.
Papa says that timing is the most important thing in the world.
You can’t start something a little too early or a little too late. A fraction of a second can make a difference not only in deciding crucial events but also in defining a person’s life.
I learnt the importance of timing from both Papa and Mum. Considering their political careers, time plays a huge tribute in their lives. They never go over the time given to them to speak in parliament. They just say precise information that doesn’t only relay their point, but also makes their opponents pause and think about a possible retort.
And yet, lately, I’ve been having this nagging feeling that I missed the timing for something.
What, I don’t know.
It couldn’t be piano practice or my weekends with Mum or even Papa’s house briefings.
Lately, it’s like we have the parliament at home. Everyone is there, led by Frederic, and it’s almost like early elections. While I love talking to Papa’s friends and getting caught in debates, I don’t like the feeling of emptiness the further he gets away from me.
Mum has been doing well, even after Papa started dating Helen. Actually, it’s too well that it’s beginning to raise red flags. She now goes out on dates to seek out a potential man to step on — her words, not mine.
Is it Mum? Is that why I feel the timing is wrong?
I send her a text to tell her I love her and miss her.
If we weren’t in the middle of dinner, I would’ve called, but Papa doesn’t like it when I talk to or about Mum in front of Helen. Not that she minds, she told me so herself. She said Mum is a part of who I am and no one can take her away from me.
I hugged Helen to death for saying those words.
Papa is wonderful, but he doesn’t understand my constant concern about Mum. He says she’s the adult and should worry about me, not the other way around.
But Papa doesn’t know about Mum’s mental state. All they do is fight. Even after nine years of divorce.
The four of us sit around the smaller table in the kitchen. Helen doesn’t like the bigger dining room when it’s only us. She said it feels impersonal and lonely while this one is cosier and gives a familial vibe.
I consider everyone here family — except for the one sitting opposite me.
Cole eats the steak and compliments his mother’s cooking and Papa for picking the Korean beef. Then they strike up a conversation about the economical exchanges with South Korea and the benefits of it.
That’s Cole to a T. One, he knows everything about everything. He even throws out numbers and statistics. Papa’s friends love him because he agrees with them. Not in a way that seems like a follower’s, but more like someone who did his homework, refused all the others, and settled on them. He makes it seem as if he likes them, not because he has to, but because he wants to.
Liar.
He’s the biggest liar alive. There’s nothing coming out of his mouth that I believe as the truth anymore.
Cole has mastered the art of lies so well, he can even manage to convince you that the truth might also be a lie.
He’s too much into mind games and seeing people trip over themselves. Watching someone flustered because they didn’t see a question or a situation coming their way is his favourite pastime.
He turned eighteen over the summer, but it’s almost like he’s twenty-five. Granted, all of us learnt to become mature since a young age; we couldn’t smile wrong in front of people or speak wrong or even breathe wrong, but he takes it to a whole different level.
Cole is perfect on the outside but rotten on the inside.
Ever since I saw that picture of the bound girl, I’ve realised how deep he actually runs, how far and how fast he can go. That he can be way worse than what I know.
And I hate that my first reaction to that image was intrigue.
Why the hell would I be intrigued about that depravity? Cole and his sick ways can go to hell. I’m Sebastian Queens and Cynthia Davis’s daughter. I’m the most proper teenager you’ll ever find, and my view on Cole is a definite no.
Now, if I stop glaring at him, it’d be good.
He catches me staring across the table and smiles like a damn gentleman. “Silver also believes in relationships with Asian countries, don’t you?”
“I do, but I also disapprove of the government’s policies of dealing with dictators’ regimes just because we can sell them weapons and fill our safe.”
Cole raises a brow. “Are you suggesting we should use our arsenal and hit them, you know, to be superheroes?”
“No. I’m merely saying we should pressure them, not leave them to do as they please to their people.”
“It’s their people. Why should we care?”
God. He’s infuriating.
If it were someone else, I would’ve kept my cool and gone on with the debate, but the way he’s egging me on with that deceptively calm tone gets on my nerves. Or rather, he gets on my nerves.
Everything about him does, from his hair that’s become longer to his eyes that have turned more piercing to his damn jaw that sharpened overnight.
“You know,” I speak in my calmest tone. “That philosophy of ‘It’s not my problem. I don’t care’ is what’s ruining the world.”
“And yet, some do it so well.” He chews on the beef leisurely. “They can even pretend they don’t care about themselves or their old friends.”
The jab is at me for the way I watch Kim from afar but still throw bitchy remarks her way.
I always, without fail, find Cole’s gaze on me after I tell Kim to piss off. It’s more than disappointment in his eyes, though. It’s pure hatred.
He hates me at school. He can’t stand to be near me and he makes it known by secretly pulling on my hair every chance he gets.
“That’s better than pretending you care about everyone when you don’t.” I pause, feigning nonchalance. “General you.”
“You kids are always at each other’s throats.” Helen laughs, serving me more juice.
I’m weird. I drink juice with my dinner and Helen respects that. Isn’t she the best?
It’s Cole who snickers at me from across the table and I scowl at him as I take a sip of the apple juice.
“Their debates are fun.” Papa smiles at us. “Our dinner table is going to be so lively in the future once Helen and I get married.”
I choke on the juice and cough as Helen helps me by patting my back.
“Sebastian!” she scolds. “We agreed to talk about it after dinner. Look what you’ve done to Silver.”
“I’m sorry, Princess.” He offers me a napkin. “I’m probably too excited for the news. Helen and Cole will move in with us. Isn’t that wonderful?”
No.
No, it’s not.
Lately, Helen has been complaining about coming out of her work zone and Papa has been saying he can’t find time to meet with her anymore, so I figured they’d break up sooner rather than later. I thought it was a fling, but a fling can’t go on for three years, right?
How stupid can I be?
Drinking from the cup of water Helen offered me, I stare at Cole across the table. He’s paused mid-cut through his steak, but aside from that, there’s no reaction.
“Are you okay, darling?” Helen asks me. “Is something wrong?”
Yes. Something is wrong.
That premonition about timing hits me again. Something is definitely wrong. I can’t let them do this.
I don’t want this. I’m not even sure why. I love Helen and the way she chased away Papa’s loneliness, but I don’t love this.
I have to do something. Now.
“Papa, I —”
“Congratulations, Mum.” Cole stands up and hugs her, and her face breaks into a radiant smile. He then shakes Papa’s hand. “Congratulations, Sebastian.”
“Thank you, son.”
Congratulations?
Congratu-fucking-lations?
Why the hell did he do that? Why is he giving them his blessings?
No.
This can’t be happening.
“Princess?” Papa stares down at me with a creased brow. He’s disappointed in me for not being like Cole.
He hates that I’m making Helen even slightly uncomfortable.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I stand up on wobbly feet and flash the showtime smile I’ve perfected so well. “Congratulations, Papa, Helen. I’m so happy for you both.”
I’m not.
If there’s a place lower than hell, I deserve to be there. Why am I not happy for them?
It’s because of Mum, right? I’m the number one believer in her romance with Papa, despite all the fights, and I’ve hoped that someday down the line, they’d eventually get back together.
Especially since, until Helen, they hadn’t actually seen other people after their divorce.
However, that’s not the thing that’s gripping my heart in its black, merciless claws.
I force myself to listen as they talk about the wedding preparations and that they need to do it soon, before the elections.
They agree on my birthday, a ‘double celebration’, Papa says.
I open my mouth to scream, NO, but instead, I say, “I promised to call Mum. Can I go?”
“Why, of course.” Helen strokes my arm, her features creasing. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, perfect. I can’t wait to tell Mum the news.”
“I’m afraid she won’t be as acceptant of them.” Papa cuts through his meat with a neutral expression.
“What are you talking about? Mum will always be happy for you.” My voice is on the verge of a breakdown. I need out of here. Now.
And I need to stop trying to look at the arsehole across the table. He wouldn’t help. He ruined it.
“Cynthia? Happy for me?” Papa lifts his head. “Are we talking about the same Cynthia Davis who’s currently gathering people to vote down my bill?”
“She means no harm. I’ll be right back.”
I fly out of the scene as fast as I can. I don’t know how I ascend the stairs, but the moment I’m in my room, I fall to a slumped position on the bed, my heart nearly beating out of my chest.
The need to cry hits me out of nowhere and I can’t control it.
What is happening to me? Why do I feel like I missed the greatest timing of all? Like I screwed everything up?
My door clicks open. I feel him before I see him.
There’s something about his presence that has become familiar over the years. Even in the park, I feel him before he shows up.