Walls Between Us

01 | where my heart is

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C A R T E R

Standing by the glass walls of my Grandfather's penthouse, I watch the traffic on the road while I wait for the man to show up. California, as always, is as busy as a bee with thousands of people strutting about the pavement, jumping across the traffic to reach their destination.

However, inside the place I occupy, everything is quiet and serene with the rhythmic tune of a stereo playing piano music.

I look at my watch, seeing the time being past 8 pm. I have been waiting here for half an hour now and Vance Bell is late like always. Half of his time of the day goes towards grooming himself. There is not a hair strand imperfect over that man's head.

As for me, I no longer recognize myself.

The glass reflects a translucent copy of me - dressed in an Armani navy blue suit, tailored trousers, and polished boots, I have no clue of who this man with a five-o-clock beard happens to be.

Is he Carter Bell? But that can't be true. Carter Bell hasn't been himself for five years now, ever since he broke Amaya Sommers's heart at the altar.

"Apologies for being late, son. I was caught up with an interview," I hear the voice of my grandfather as he enters through the private elevator in the hall.

Vance Bell will be seventy-one this year. Every time I look at him, I cringe at the fact that he looks a little too much like me, or I look a little too much like him. I have his sharp features, except for the slightly crooked nose he is endowed with. His mouth is thinner than mine and he hates shaving his white beard, only trimming it slightly from time to time. The only advantage I have over him is my height which towers over his 5'9.

A few of his servants follow him with dishes of food covered. He guides them to place the trays on the small table for two near the glass wall through which he can overlook the city while eating.

After a servant is done popping open a glass of French wine, my grandfather motions for me to have my seat.

I sigh, walking towards him and grabbing a place on the opposite side. Grandpa uncovers the food and inhales the scent like he is as hungry as a starving lion. I observe the unfamiliar dish and the chopsticks which come with it.

"Go on," the old man says. "Try it out. It's Korean. It's called Chap-Chae. I tried it for the first time in South Korea. It's excellent!"

I pick up my chopsticks, digging into the food as he does with his. We both take the first bite quietly and true to his words, the dish melts on my tongue.

It is delicious.

"Why did you call me?" I ask while eating.

"For dinner." Grandpa takes a sip of his wine, closing his eyes to relish the taste of his food. "And for two other reasons."

I already knew that.

"Yeah? What are they? Go on, I have a meeting in an hour with the Parkinsons. We need to finalize the Paris deal."

"Cancel it." Grandpa waves a hand in the air. "I'll finalize it later. For now, I need you to focus on your future, Carter."

I stop eating as I meet his eyes, his words sounding like they happen to carry an ugly proposition.

"My future?"

"Hmm..." He drops his chopsticks and rubs his hands with a napkin.

I watch him as he reaches for the inside pocket of his suit and brings out a small box. He places it on the table, pushing it towards me.