Listening to Scarlett sing to the early morning sun rays felt like breathing fresh air after aeons. He was no longer sure of the days and months but he had counted each day of silence in this house, praying to be blessed to hear her voice again, for her happiness and health. He was never the one to martyr himself for any cause, noble or otherwise, but every time Scarlett fell on the bed, without an ounce of energy, he bargained his soul to the powers that ruled the earth, to help her wake up with renewed spirit.
She was not a great singer, neither was her humming correct to the rhythm. But he would take her hoarse singing anyway to the dead silence in the house. He had waited for Scarlett these three months. Waited for her to come from office, to sleep and to wake up. He had talked to her while she was asleep, foolishly tried to penetrate her nightmares and waited for her to calm down. He had watched her rush, taking only half breaths, eat only spoonfuls and talk only one words on phone and to herself. Seeing Scarlett back in her essence, he could not help but let out a sigh of relief.
“Hai, the guy in the painting. I have ignored you terribly, haven’t I? And I have totally forgotten about my promise about your name, right? I know.. I know… Its been tough.. What can I say.. What can I do to make amends?” Scarlett came back to the room with a steaming coffee mug and asked the painting, tilting her head to a side.
“I have been a bad… Owner? Friend? Neighbor? Room mate? Hmmm.. what are you…? What am I for you?
“What you are for me! One day I will explain it to Scarlett. One day. And you do own me. Every inch of this painting and every particle of my soul,” he told her. It didn’t matter he had a voice or not. He knew she would hear. She had heard everything he told her.
“I don’t like being your owner. Friends? Isn’t that better? Or room mates? Technically yes. But that seems so distant. Neighbors have fences, which we don’t. So we are left with friends. Then friends, it is.” He smiled. She did hear. He must have done somewhere something good. Or this would not be happening. His heart was not so dark after all.
“Friends, for now, Scarlett. But I want to be more than friends. You know that, don’t you? There is, really, nothing more I want than that.”
“Friends, for now. Unless you turn into a prince upon a kiss. But you are not a frog, or a beast for that matter. So I doubt if that will ever happen.”
He wanted to cry with happiness. Scarlett. The lovely funny silly silly Scarlett. His Scarlett.
“I am sorry. I will not ignore you like this again. You were lonely, right? And I know you missed me. I promise.”
She frowned. “Too early to make a promise again? I know I didn’t keep my previous promises. Maybe we can rectify that now and then go on to make the next promise. We’ll find a name for you. First thing this morning.”
Scarlett took a newspaper lying there on the bed-side table. “I know I promised a different name. But I am tired of calling you the guy in the painting. So the first name I read from this magazine will be your name. Ok?” She turned to look at the painting through a veil of her silky hair.
He wished the time stopped then and there. He wanted to capture this moment forever and never let that amusement in her eyes fade. Her face like that was what he wanted to paint. He wanted to paint a million other expressions that danced in her eyes.
“Hmmm… there is a politician, nah, it will be an outdated name. I don’t even want to see what the name is. Then there is a chef, Russian… I can’t pronounce that… Couple of terrorist names are there… Interested? Who else.. what else… mmmm…”
Scarlett sat in front of the painting and continued to browse through the magazine, instantly rejecting and moving through pages…, forgetting all about her first name principle. Approval and disapproval, curiosity, doubt and disbelief flitting across her face seeing the articles. “My Scarlett.”
“Hey, what about this? It’s a man missing case though. A good-looking man-missing case.”
“Young Billionaire Vanishes from 11-11-11; Cops Struggling to Tie the Loose Ends“
Its been over five years since Tristan Chase (37) billionaire and owner of the Chase Holdings Inc., went missing from Nov 11, 2011. The police are unable to proceed the investigations due to lack of adequate proofs. Family, friends and staff of Chase are equally baffled at the prolonged missing and absence of any calls for ransom or other demands.
“Tristan seems to have vanished from the face of the earth. There was no sign of violence in his room, nothing was stolen, no random threatening phone calls or any other suspicious advances,” says Simon Wallace, a staff of the Chase Holdings.
“We are following every available trail to find out what happened to Tristan. He was a man of more enemies than friends. We suspect he is kidnapped and kept captive. We will find the answers soon,”said George Schlutz, Chief Inspector of Police, Wichita.
Chase went missing soon after the controversial incident where his employee, Allan McClaire (27) committed suicide, following an official fall-out with Chase. However, the family of the deceased denied any connection to case.
“He has done more than enough damage to the family. Why would we care what happened to him? If he is being kidnapped, it is only because of his own actions,” said Molly McClaire, sister of Allan McClaire.