C2 The Calm Before The Storm

“Louisa! Louisa! Wake up and open the door, your Papa wants to speak with you.”

Louisa reluctantly opened her eyes and dragged herself from bed. Yaya Seling would not stop banging on her bedroom door until it was opened.

Evidently, the older woman was taking no nonsense today. She only used ‘Louisa’, instead of the endearing ‘Louie’, to call her ward when she was in one of her dark moods. Louisa loved her dearly, but she could be a real pain in the neck at times. Especially since she seemed to always forget that Louisa was no longer a child. She could not fault her for it, though. Yaya Seling had been taking care of her since she was a toddler, after all. And Louisa often went out of her way to appease her aging Yaya.

After letting the tyrant in, Louisa jumped back into bed. She dove under her fluffy comforter and snuggled deeper inside the warm cocoon, determined to catch a few more winks.

“Come on, lazy head. Get up. Your Papa has been waiting for over an hour now. He said he needed to speak to you as soon as you’re awake. So get up now!” Yaya Seling admonished, dragging the comforter away. Louisa tried to pull it back, but she sat bolt upright when the persistent old woman started rubbing her face with a wet sponge.

“Yaya Seling! Stop it! I hate it when you do that. I’m no longer a six-year-old, you know”, she cried, pushing away the hand that was ministering to her. “Okay, okay. I’m getting up. Can I just go into the bathroom first?” Louisa grumbled as she slithered out of bed, half-walking, and half-crawling to the en suite. When she reached the sink, she forewent mixing the tap and splashed cold water on her face to remove the sleep from her eyes.

“Papa should’ve known I wouldn’t be up early. I spent the whole night looking over those contracts he turned over to me yesterday. And it’s a Saturday, too. I always sleep in on Saturdays. What time is it, anyway?” she said from behind the slightly ajar bathroom door.

“It’s 8:00 am. I have no idea what he wants with you. All I know is that your Papa had also been up half the night in his study. When I went to the kitchen to get a drink somewhere around midnight, he was still in his study. Based on his haggard look this morning, I wager he didn’t get much sleep himself.” Yaya Seling answered while straightening Louisa’s beddings.

“He looked haggard this morning?” Louisa asked before continuing with her morning ablutions.

“Yes, but aside the dark circles around his eyes, he seemed okay. A nap would do him good.”

“Hmm. I guess I better just ask him myself. I won’t be able to go back to sleep now anyway.”

Her father rarely, if ever, demanded her presence during breakfast because she often beat him to it. Louisa was a habitual early riser and her father knew she hardly ever overslept. On the rare instances she went missing on the breakfast table her father would pass it off without comment, knowing there’s a good reason for her absence.

Thus, she found it odd to have her father asking Yaya Seling to wake her up and join him for breakfast. She was also sure her Papa had forced the old woman to do it because, tyrant or not, she was very protective of Louisa and more often than not, let her get away with anything, including missing breakfast. Her father was very indulgent of her, too, and he wouldn’t disturb her sleep for anything trivial. The only time her father had shaken her awake in the wee hours of the morning was on her thirteenth birthday. He was so excited to give his gift mare to her he couldn’t wait for her to wake up on her own.

Maybe he has a surprise for me that couldn’t wait, she thought happily.

With that in mind, she quickly donned her usual attire - a loose white shirt with sleeves turned up at the elbows, soft chino pants, and her battered Hush Puppies. Bundling up her long tresses into a loose ponytail, she dabbed a little powder on her face to battle the usual shine. A quick spritz of her favorite cologne and she was feeling normal again. Satisfied with her reflection on the full-length bathroom mirror, Louisa left her room and sauntered down the staircase with a light heart.

Her father, she found, was in the Solarium, a portion of the house with a set of high-tech windows that could be opened or closed with a remote controller depending on the weather. It was her mother’s favorite spot since they moved into the house, as she often said, it brought the beauty of the outdoors indoors.

The bonsai palm trees and ferns surrounding it gave the Solarium a soothing ambiance. The small breakfast driftwood table varnished in a dark-brown, glossy tint, dominating this space would have looked intimidating and out of place if not for its intricately-carved legs – expertly carved dark wood made to look like thick vines sprouting up from out of the ground. The black, wrought-iron chairs with cushioned seats in bright, tropical colors accompanying it lent a contemporary touch to this otherwise old-world setting. Louisa had designed the set when she was twelve and her father had it made according to her specifications, commenting that she had a natural talent for designing. This set was what inspired him to venture into furniture production later on.

As she approached her father, she saw him sipping brewed coffee with an unlit tobacco loosely held in his left hand. He had quit smoking a long time ago, right after her mother died, but he still kept a stock of those foul-smelling things around. He only touched them when he was troubled or brooding over something. That he was doing it right now crushed Louisa’s hope of receiving a happy ‘surprise’ this morning. Her quick, light steps turned heavy. A tiny part of her wanted to run away, but her curiosity won out. She wouldn’t find peace until she knew what was troubling her Papa.

“Good Morning, Papa. I see you beat me to the breakfast table this time,” she said cheerfully.

“Good Morning to you, too, my pet,” her father replied, his soft voice was laced with tension.

“So, what’s up?” Louisa said, taking her usual seat across her father.

Don Ramon continued sipping his coffee, purposely avoiding her eyes. He’s stalling, she thought. Not a good sign.

Louisa chose not to comment on his father’s brooding mood, focusing instead on the appetizing breakfast spread before her. The aroma of the freshly brewed coffee, freshly-baked bread, scrambled eggs, and sausages reminded her of her meager fare last night. Reviewing proposals and contracts always had a way of ruining her appetite, so her dinner consisted mostly of biscuits and a mug of weak tea. This morning, it was filled with fragrant, mouth-watering coffee. She skipped the cream and added two teaspoons of sugar to it. Next, she piled her plate with sweet-smelling bread, scrambled eggs, and sausages. The home-baked bread was just perfect, crusty on the outside, soft and fluffy on the inside.

The food distracted her enough to forget she had been summoned to breakfast. The last of her bread was dunked in coffee and popped inside her mouth. She felt her father’s intense stare before she saw it. Thinking her Papa was annoyed by her barbaric display, she picked up her linen napkin and delicately dabbed at the corners of her mouth.

“There! See? I still have manners. No need to look so horrified, Papa,” she said, grinning at her father.

Such light banter, on any other day, would’ve brought on a funny rejoinder from her father, but this time the elder Almendrez only stared back at her. The hairs on her neck stood up when a dreadful thought flashed inside her mind.

Oh, God, please. Don’t be ill, Papa, she silently prayed.

Losing one parent had been painful enough. She wasn’t ready to lose the only family she had left. Her fear must have been reflected on her face because her father suddenly snapped out of his brooding. He straightened his shoulders and noisily cleared his throat, the unlit tobacco returned to the silver casing beside his coffee cup. His slow, deliberate movements made Louisa anxious. Her father was not a delicate man. His actions were often quick and forceful. He rarely moved slowly or hesitantly. His cautiousness warned her he was about to drop a bomb in her lap.

“Louisa, I have some bad news about Tío Fernando. He had a stroke and is now in a coma.”

Tío Fernando was her father’s oldest and best friend. She knew how painful this was for him. Instinctively, she reached out for her father’s hand. Feeling the gesture inadequate, Louisa walked to her father and hugged him tightly. She kissed the top of his head, still thick with wavy, auburn brown hair similar to hers.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Papa. I’m sure he’ll get through this.”

She hated how her words sounded too cliché. She wanted to offer some encouragement, but a small lump in her throat made it hard to speak. She loved her godfather, too, and this sad development affected her just as much as it did her father.

Ramon looked at her and smiled, his light, brown eyes misting with unshed tears. Louisa saw the pain in his eyes, but behind his grief was a desperation Louisa was not familiar with.

“What’s wrong, Papa?”

“I think you need to sit down, my dear. There is something you need to know.” He kissed her hands and nodded at her chair.

She went back to her seat with trepidation. The lump had settled on her windpipe, nauseating her. With fingers crossed, Louisa awaited her father’s announcement with bated breath, convinced whatever it was he wanted to tell her wouldn’t be good.