Tutor My Heart

Sitting in his confines of darkness, covered by dimming lights of the sun. My gaze falls on his image. A flustering painting of his figure, hung upon the wall before me.

It feels surreal. All this in a blink of an eye. The thought of dreams never fading into something real, was something I quite agreed with, but maybe not everything gets to be a fantasy.

“Mr Kelvin ?“ a shrill voice calls out from a distance.

Her face gets caught up in the light. A coming alive of a once dead room, as she appears emerging with a colourful look on her face.

“Yes ma” my feet move, lifting my body off the sofa, as I meet her gaze.

She's a slender lady. An undeniable pious matching her aura, which stands behind an alluring scent, pouring off her presence.

“You are the new employee ?“ She questions, taking her seat before me, with a piercing glare, which sinks my body down the sofa at the beckon of her finger tips.

“That should be me” I respond, watching her eyes scan through me, like lesser beams in search of a price.

She takes her moment, while the clock ticks. The silence deafening the room, asides my pounding chest.

“You'd be working close to my son, I presume ?“

“Yes. I'm to be his personal assistant” I reply, holding in the rest of my job description, thinking she might be in the dark.

“Quite secretive, I see” she says, gazing at me with a smirk on her lips. Her eyes are dimmed, her hands softly tapping.

“Apologies, I don't understand” I say, feigning no knowledge of what she means.

My eyes stare back at her, my face rigid at her glares. She barely says a word, and so do I, never letting her will faze me, until she breaks off a smile.

“You'll stay, I like you” she declares, rising off her seat, while I follow. “I'm Amira Ajoku, your boss's mother” she tells me, while I move my fist meeting hers.

The greeting lingers for a short time, ending with a walk through of my job description, and a boring scroll through of his house rules.

I thought he'd be here, I thought he was gonna be the one to receive me, but how wrong I was. The rich did things differently, and apparently it is his mother and later on some maid, who gets me settled in.

“You'd be staying here” some lady asked to lead me to my place, and walked me into my room.

She's dressed in an apron, with a little bit of wrinklies on her face and an old rugged hair pack. I assume she's the maid, right within her forties or fifties.

It takes quite some time to settle in after the lady leaves. With a lot of unpacking to do and arrangements to make, I'm worn out by the time I get done, laying on the softly coated bed, with lots of thoughts going through my mind.

A week ago, I would have called this an impossible feat. Randomly sending in an application email, for a position I had no experience in, to work for some vastly well known tycoon. That was some far fetched dream, which has become real.

My lips had fallen apart, while my eyes blinked furiously when I had popped open the email. I could scarcely believe what I had seen on my screen, and neither could my family. I can still recall their flushed gazes, it was out of the world. A week later, I'm here laying on a king sized bed, in a quite spacious room, staring at a large television screen.

I had been accepted by his very own mother, and she seemed more like a cheerful one, although she scares the shit out of me.

Her glare had gotten be off, and I was only but a second away from popping up, when her smile had crossed over, giving me some relief.

My stomach growls through my thoughts, it stings a bit, bringing to mind I barely had taken any food through the day. My heart speeds and the thought of it. I am new here, and I do wonder how it would seem asking for a meal minutes after arriving.

And Hell as it is, I felt the lonely wave while finding my way here. I had barely seen a kiosk, or some place, where I could get a bite or purchase something to eat.

Not minding, my stomach churns at me. Its pain unravels, quacking my entire existence into a shift. Unable to withhold the struggle, my feet fall to the ground, lifting the rest of my body up. My head twirls, turning my eyes at an instance. I am sure to collapse if I can't get a thing into my mouth.

“Oh help me God” I grumble, stumping off, out of my room, in a bit of haste and failing breath.

I can feel my body quack, my senses all scream for one thing, and certainly go for it. This is quite a large mansion. Graced with antique paintings over its walls, my mind hazes over the shimmering lights if it's a dark corridor. My nostrils sniff in this desperate time, leading me on through the tracks of turns and twists until I'm at the door, where sweet aroma floods my nostrils, peeling at my nose.

I walk on, into the kitchen which has its doors widely open. There's barely a shadow in it, its emptiness reeks, asides the boiling pot, which stands over the cooker. My mind quakes me, tempting my hands into pulling up the pot's cover for a screen time, but my heart takes a turn fighting off the urge. Rather I take note of the fridge standing some distance apart.

“Surely a snack or water must be there” I think, basically strolling over there like I am not an inch away from collapsing, while screening the scenery for peering eyes.

A sigh of relief flushes down my stomach once I pull over the loaded fridge, my hands go vying for a snack, when my mind takes a drift for the water. It should seem insolent going for something more without some sort of permission, when I just got here.

Turning off its cover, I lift the water towards my lips, chucking it in all at once. My breath rests at the feeling of a filled up tummy. Sighing, my hands lift towards my lip, whipping up the droplet, left at my lower lip.

Right when my breath draws in with full relief, do I hear the slapping of leg flips upon the ground. A slamming of hands cut through the air, forcing my eyes up, as it drew near approaching me.

I roll my eyes in, standing straight, once I catch sight of Mrs Amira. She has a smile cornered on her lips, and at once I know I've scaled through a test.

“You were so close to failing that” she says softly “if you had picked anything other than water, that could pretty much mean the theft” she tells me, forcing the corners of my eyes up, as I barely can make out how that action could have translated to that.

Barely trying to think much of it, I let the corner of my lips rise, faking a smile which has no business being up, since I am rather still being graded, like a primary school student.

“Thank you Mrs Amira, I hope I did well” those polite words kick in, but are quick to change “and I hope this is my last test ?“ I ask, hoping, but I'm grossly flopped to the ground.

“No” she says, wearing on a stern gaze “your final test, would be how well you receive my son” she says, causing a mental growl in my head.

I thought I had gotten the job already. A continuous test ? Little wonder they say anybody gets to last here, and isn't it her son who hired me ?

“If you think my son sent that email in, that stated your employment, then you're wrong. I did” she chipps in.

Great, I am wondering how she gets to test me with a meal when she barely knows I'm beyond famished, and there she goes, reading through my mind, like some witch.

“You may excuse yourself” she says, stepping away from the entrance.

My feet move, with the fake smile still hovering over my lips. It does fade once I'm out, sinking into a scowl from the frustrating pang in my tummy. A delima crosses my mind as a gaze ahead, stopping at the spot. I have no clue how I got here, and how I am going to return troubles me a bit. I had been led by hunger, by the watering tongue of my mouth, and nostrils which can smell any meal from afar.

“Jesus Christ” I call for the only help I can, knowing I will step on, even though I have no clue where that would lead me.

My feet leads me up the side stairs. I could choose to go around and move through the main ones, but that too would confuse the light of me. There were just too many curves, like a puzzle piece, that I couldn't keep up with committing it to memory. It takes a while, but starts seeming I am heading in the right direction, until I step into a section I presume to mine.

“O God” that call comes off, as I twirl in dismay.

These doors bear similar resemblance, a nitpick of any my eyes lay upon. It takes a moment, but I decide on going for anyone. I got myself here by chance, and by grace, I'm about getting back into my space, afterall what's the worst that can happen ?

But yes, that question always leaves you knowing something much worse could always happen.

Laying my hands over the door's knob, I push on it, moving my feet until my eyes stumble on a pair of golden brown eyes, which glare at me, halting my feet at a spot.

“And who are you ?” his husky voice questions, a mix of deep and baritone. Not my best decision at what it sounds like, as I question my future seeing Mr Thane stand before my eyes.

“Cute…” I shouldn't have let that slip.