Dangerous Games

ECHOS OF AN OLD SONG

"You," Kali swallowed nervously, unfurling her fingers from Samuel's arm and wrist. "You can let go of me."

He stood behind her, his head resting on the top of her head and his arms tight across her chest and stomach. She felt him move, but he didn't loosen his grip. His breath fanned over her neck as he bent to look at her. She turned her head, allowing him to see her face and offering a thin smile.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, patting his hand. "I am."

Carefully, he withdrew his hand, stroking the back of her head as he turned her to face him. Dutifully he looked her over, worry etched on his face. "You scared me for a moment there."

"I am sorry." She muttered, slightly embarrassed. Before she could say anything else, Samuel drew her back into his arms, her face pressed into the neck of his iron-pressed shirt.

She could smell a hint of the starch spray they used along with his usual perfume.

Still shaken and understanding that he was giving her support, she relaxed into him. Hesitant, her hands crept up his back. Cautiously she pressed them into his back, her fingers digging into the material of his shirt.

"There is nothing to be sorry about. My mother has a way of pushing everyone's buttons. I don't understand why she won't just leave us in peace."

He held her for some time, then urged her to walk with him to the living room. He pushed the coffee table away and made space for them to sit on the rug.

"Can you bring some food?" She politely asked, and he agreed.

"Which do you want?"

"Anything."

He picked up some of the burgers and leftover noodles. Then returned for the champagne after he set them all on the coffee table. As he sank to the carpet she held up her glass to him. He smiled, pouring some of the champagne into it.

"Thanks."

"Don't know how you keep so much down." He examined the liquid, gazing into the bottle.

"It has to do with metabolism."

"Is that right?"

She bit into a burger, moaning at the taste as she wiped the sauce that dripped down the side of her mouth. "I can eat an entire buffet and have space for more when I am stressed."

"Still?"

Her lashes battered against her cheeks as she lowered her eyes. "I am improving."

"That's good. That's good."

She was well into her second burger when he drew nearer. She stopped, watching him move his hand over her head to rest it on the couch.

"We don't have to talk about it." She spoke before he could.

"I am not going to talk about that. I can tell you don't want to."

She searched his face, then asked, "What then?"

"Listen. I can't judge your character or your life. I don't know what your parents would have thought about it."

"They would have been bloody disappointed." She muttered, picking at the lettuce in her burger."

"Maybe. I don't know your mother, but from what you have told me about your family and how your parents were, I don't think they'd be as harsh as you think. Would they be disappointed? Maybe. Would they be heartbroken? Possibly. But what parent wouldn't feel these things when the child they raised doesn't grow up to follow the values they raised them with. Being disappointed doesn't mean she would wish a life of misery for you, or your dad would turn his back."