Chapter 9 Disaster awaiting

Kaden

The sculpture was terrible.

Not objectively anyway, it was just aggressively confusing.

I stood in front of the twisted metal structure and stared at it for several seconds.

The title card beside it read: ‘The Fragility of Time’

Interesting.

Because if someone had asked me what it represented, I would've guessed that it was a broken bicycle.

A group of students gathered nearby discussing symbolism and artistic expression.

I quietly stepped away.

One of the advantages of attending exhibitions alone was that nobody expected conversations and I preferred it that way.

The small gallery occupied one of the university's newer buildings. There was enough open space for visitors to move freely between displays.

The exhibition featured students, artists and local creators.

Nothing particularly groundbreaking.

I paused before another piece.This one was better.

The artist had somehow managed to capture loneliness without making the work feel dramatic.

I appreciated that.

Too many artists tried too hard.

My phone vibrated just then and I ignored it. A few more visitors wandered through the room.

Some stopped to admire pieces, others simply wanted to be seen attending an art exhibition.

The difference was usually obvious.

"Kaden Blackwood?"

I clenched my fist tightly and resisted the urge to sigh.

The voice belonged to a middle-aged man standing nearby.

The man looked familiar and I believed that we must’ve met before.

That happened often.

People remembered me, but I rarely remembered them.

"Yes?"

The man's face brightened. "I knew it."

Of course.

I already knew where this conversation was headed. It always went the same way.

"You're Charles Blackwood's son, aren't you?"

There it was, my father. Always my father, not me, my work and what I had accomplished,

My identity was always as Charles Blackwood's youngest son, the quiet one. People only remembered me because of my last name.

I kept my expression neutral. "Yes."

The man's smile widened, "I thought so."

Wonderful.

I waited for what I knew was coming.

"How is your father doing?"

"Fine."

"I've admired his work for years." He continued enthusiastically.

I tried not to frown at the enthusiasm. "I'm sure he'd appreciate hearing that.”

And it was true. My father loved hearing great things about himself. Things like, he is one of the greatest artist in the country, had multiple establishment, and a philanthropist.

The man nodded, "I actually wanted to ask a favor."

Of course. Wasn’t that what they all wanted?

"I've been trying to reach him about a commission."

I swallowed hard, already hating myself for giving him a listening ear. Maybe I should walk away now before he made ‘the ask’.

"Could you talk to him for me?"

There it was, access. People always wanted access to my father through me. If only they knew that was the wrong way to go about contacting him. He was most likely to delete my messages without even opening them.

"You'd have better luck contacting his assistant." I said instead.

The man's smile faltered, "Oh."

"He handles commissions."

"Right."

The conversation should've ended there, but the man continued, "Still, if you could mention my name…"

"No."

I let out a deep sigh. That had come out sharper than intended and sounded rude. But I was tired of having the same conversation over and over as though I was a doorway.

"My father handles his own professional matters,” I said softly. “I can’t help you, I’m sorry.”

The man looked embarrassed, "Of course."

A few awkward seconds passed and then the man excused himself.

Finally.

I let out a breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

My eyes moved towards the far end of the room and my lips parted almost immediately.

She was waving both of her arms in the air and jumping slightly as though she was trying to direct aircraft traffic.

"KADEN!"

Several people turned and I closed his eyes briefly.

Of course it was Allison.

Who else would yell my name in a crowded art exhibition?

"KADEN!"

Somehow louder this time.

One woman looked startled.

I thought about pretending to not know her, but I couldn’t just leave her.

I let out a deep sigh and started walking toward her.

She grinned brightly as though she had just won a lottery, which was Immediately suspicious.

"What are you doing here?" I narrowed my eyes at her.

Her smile widened, "I brought you lunch."

I furrowed my brows. "What?"

"I brought you lunch,” She repeated it in an unusually high-pitched voice as though she'd practiced the sentence beforehand.

I glanced down to see that she had a paper bag in her hand.

For several seconds, I simply stared at it. Nobody had ever brought me lunch before. For some reasons, it felt… I couldn't exactly describe how it felt.

"Well?" Allison said, looking at me with a look that seemed to say I should say something.

I accepted the bag, "Thank you."

Her smile disappeared and I frowned. That wasn't the reaction I was expecting.

"You look disappointed."

She blinked, "What?"

"You seem disappointed."

"I don't seem disappointed."

"You do."

She stared at me and then narrowed her eyes, "That's it?"

I looked down at the paper bag and then back at her, "Thank you?"

"No, not that.” She moved closer like she wanted to say something secretive. “What emotion are you feeling right now?”

"Emotion?" I furrowed my brows, wondering what she was talking about.

"Yes, Kaden. Emotion. Are you feeling any?"

What the hell was she on about?

I frowned as the several pieces suddenly began to fall into place.

The strange visit earlier this week, the terrible singing, furniture rearranging and very suspicious behavior.

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish?"

She looked like she had been caught for half a second, and the she smiled.

"Nothing."

Definitely something.

I wanted to press further, but I thought about it again and realized that it didn’t matter:

"I feel really appreciative."

She looked horrified immediately, as though I had ruined something.

"What? I said I appreciate the gesture."

Her shoulders slumped and I frowned, making absolutely no sense of her reaction.

"I thought you'd be annoyed,” she said and I frowned.

"You brought me lunch hoping that I'd be annoyed?"

"Maybe,” she looked away.

For some reason, the absurdity of the situation made something warm settle in my chest.

"Well,” I lifted the bag slightly, "I'm not annoyed. It was thoughtful."

She groaned, "You're impossible."

"I've heard that before."

"From me."

"Repeatedly."

After Bryan left, the apartment had felt noticeably quieter before she'd started showing up uninvited.

Allison folded her arms, "You're supposed to be difficult."

"I am not."

She pointed accusingly at me, "You're ruining my plan."

Plan?

Before I could ask what she meant, she seemed to realize what she had just said and grinned. “Sorry, I mean, ruining the fun.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, not knowing what to say to her. She was probably acting like this because she was heartbroken.

For a moment, neither of us spoke and then she tilted her head.

"You know..."

"What?"

"You're surprisingly nice."

I let out a deep sigh, "That's the most insulting compliment I've ever received."

She laughed and turned around, "I'll see you at home."

I nodded and she waved before disappearing into the crowd.

After several seconds, I looked inside the bag and saw that she had packed a sandwich, some fruits, a bottled drink and a sticky note that said; ‘Don't starve.’

I stared at the note and smiled.

Just then, my phone vibrated and I pulled it from my pocket.

A calendar notification filled the screen and I frowned.

The title read: DISASTER AWAITING

I shut my eyes tightly and shoved the phone back into my pocket. I couldn’t avoid this forever.