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The Lurker
24 December
The Centre
The gentle sounds of an acoustic guitar wafted down the hallway, lifted by an unseen force. Its dulcet strains reached her ears so softly, that she wasn’t sure she had heard it at all. She was on her way to one of the labs when the unusual sounds caught her attention. It was late and there were very few people around. Her mind jutted to her father momentarily; her father who once again had canceled their plans for Christmas. Why the sting of it surprised her, she was not certain. It wasn’t the first time, and she doubted it would be the last.
The click of her heels on the polished floor threatened to disturb the unnatural stillness within the corridor; and there it was again! Music. She stopped, a slight frown creasing her forehead, she hadn’t imagined it. The guitar was overwhelmingly beautiful in its rich and pure tones. She looked toward the office door which was ground zero for the music. She looked at her watch: 11:43 pm. Why was he still here?
With a scowl permeating her features, she closed the distance to his office door. For a moment she stood silently in front of it, listening, but there were no signs of a person inside, just the music. Maybe he simply had forgotten, and left a cd playing by accident, although she rather doubted that. Her hand was poised to knock, but she stopped herself in mid motion. She should just leave. Yes. She should go, now.
But her feet weren’t moving. It was the first Christmas since the death of his brother. She shouldn’t just leave him alone. She slammed her eyes shut, annoyed. Annoyed with herself and the situation. She hated emotional attachments; they brought complications and always heartache in one form or another. She took in a deep mouthful of air and let it out slowly. Why wasn’t she just walking away? Even the music seemed to intensify in volume as she contemplated her options. It was the Ave Maria, one of her mother’s favourite songs.
She opened her eyes, to find the door not only open, but him standing there, staring at her; the tiniest hint of amusement lighting his eyes. She started, which only served to further his amusement and consequently, her aggravation.
“Miss Parker, what brings you down here tonight?”
“I’m glad you’re still here. I wanted some clarification on the Sands project, if you don’t mind.”
The amusement in his eyes touched his lips as they curled into a slight grin, “Really.....I thought the Centre shelved that until after Christmas.”
He could see from the furrow of her brow and the spark in her eyes that he was irritating her to a level of frustration that could become caustic. Patience had never been her long suit. He smiled sweetly at her.
She glared at him slightly, knowing that she should have listened to her instincts of retreat. It was enough that her own father had abandoned her on yet another Christmas Eve; she didn’t need Sydney to amuse himself at her expense. Besides, she only happened to pass by and notice that he was still in his office, it wasn’t as if she had come down here looking for him. She looked away as a slight smile lit her lips: Happened by? It wasn’t true and even she knew it.
She looked back up at him, not a hint of a smirk on her face, “The Centre may have put the Sands project away, but I have not.”
He couldn’t keep the amusement from his voice, “I see....”
The exasperation he was causing her was beginning to show in her indignant tone, “Are we going to stand here in the doorway, or are you going to let me come in and discuss this?”
In a teasing fashion, he stepped aside and waved her in, as though she were royalty, and he a mere subject. She let an audible sigh of nuisance escape her lips, causing him to almost chuckle aloud. It was a game they had played since she was a child; she refused to demonstrate any kind of affection toward him, and he subtly mocked her for it. He knew exactly why she had turned up at his office door on this particular evening, no matter how cool she was trying to appear.
The Ave Maria finished and O Holy Night began playing. On some level the customary Christmas tune filled her with dread, although she couldn’t quite understand why. Holidays always made Miss Parker queasy. She took a chair in front of his desk, noticing the open bottle of Scotch and half filled glass sitting there. Everything was neatly organised, and there was a gayly wrapped present sitting next to the glass, appearing terribly out of place in the dreary room.
Sydney closed the door and walked over to the desk, opened the bottom left hand drawer, and pulled out another tumbler. He surprised her by sitting in the seat next to hers, as opposed to his desk chair. He noted her unease as her back stiffened when he sat down. He poured her a Scotch and handed it to her. He picked up his own, held it out and waited for her to clink her glass to his. For a moment, he thought she was going to set the Scotch down and make a hasty retreat, but instead, she touched her glass to his and they each took a sip.
An awkward mood filled the room. If it had not been for the continuing Christmas music, the stiff silence would have been deafening. Parker looked down into her tumbler, as if somehow it would tell her how to proceed. Why had she come? She was not proficient at handling emotional attachments of any kind; what had she been thinking? She took another long swig of Scotch, attempting to dull her heightened sense of discomfort, while searching for her rapidly waning courage.
Sydney watched her, the mirth in his eyes shining brightly. He couldn’t help it. The child he had known so long ago was still very much a part of her. She was no better now at dealing with her own feelings than she had been when she was twelve years old. He knew exactly why she had come, and he could see just how much she was regretting that moment of weakness. And he knew that she would consider it a vulnerability as opposed to a kindness that one friend shows another. She had suffered enough, it was time to let her off the hook; it was progress that she had come at all.
“Miss Parker, in answer to your question, I intend to approach the Sands project in much the same way that the Centre handled Galvin II and Teneba. I think it best that we establish all the parameters which we feel may or may not--”
She cut him off by grasping his arm with her hand. Sydney looked down at the hand gripping his arm, then slowly at the face of its owner. Parker couldn’t bear to look him in the eye, but he understood the depth of the action. He quietly set his glass of Scotch down on the desk, and softly placed his hand over hers. Her eyes darted to his, like a child testing the boundaries.
He smiled at her, “You never were comfortable being demonstrative with anyone except your mother and father.” He paused for a moment, then continued, “I have always understood that about you.”
She still couldn’t look at him, “It isn’t that I don’t....”
“I know.”
He took her hand between both of his, holding it to calm her, just as he had done so often when she was a child. Emotions of attachment had always overwhelmed her, and now was no different.
She looked away, her eyes slightly misting over, “I hate it when you’re sweet to me.”
“I know.”
This caused her to look at him sharply, her eyes filling with spite, “You know.” He smiled at her, which infuriated her, “You do it on purpose. To annoy me.”
She yanked her hand away from him and abruptly stood up, slamming her glass down on the desk. As she turned to make an angry exit, Sydney stood and grabbed her hand, pulling her back. They stared at each other for a long moment. His eyes were as steady as they had been for as long as she had known him, causing hers to soften from anger to neutrality, and finally, to vulnerability.
His voice washed over her like velvet, “There is no more validity to the idea that I am sweet to you to annoy you, than there is to the idea that you came here just now to discuss the Sands project.”
The truth caused her to look away and then down; anywhere but at him.
He inclined his head down slightly, trying to catch her eyes, “I appreciate very much that you came here tonight.”
She looked up into his eyes with a stare so piercing it almost hurt to return it, “It doesn’t mean I was....concerned.”
A slight smile curved his lips once more, “Of course not.” He paused for a moment, “But you should know that I’m fine.”
A lump formed in Parker’s throat. She fought the burn in her heart and the sting in her eyes as she gently reached up to caress the side of his face. Sydney felt his own eyes fill with moisture, and rather than allowing her to see it, he pulled her to him and held her as a father would a much cherished child. And for once Parker let him hold her; not because she required his comfort, but because he needed her to.
After a few moments, she awkwardly pushed away from his arms, trying to lighten the moment, “Hey Syd....what’s in the box?”
He smiled at her, “A Christmas present for a very special lady in my life.”
The idea that Sydney had begun dating someone without the Centre finding out about it amused her, and a smile lit up her face, “Oh yeah? What’s her name, and what’s in it?”
He reached over and picked up the box, handing it to her, “Merry Christmas, Miss Parker.”
Their eyes locked as an understanding passed between them. And in that split second, Parker accepted that Syd had known she would seek him out on this night long before she did. The look in her eyes betrayed her heart, and she bit slightly on her lower lip to keep the tears forming in her eyes at bay.
“I don’t know what to say.”
He leaned against his desk, and nodded to the chair closest to him, indicating that she should sit in it, “Open it.”
Miss Parker sat in the chair and carefully unraveled the wrappings of the package. Sydney took the wrappings from her as she removed them, and then watched her as she opened the old photo album contained within. As she read the inscription to herself, he could see that she was fighting off her emotions, willing them not to overtake her. He watched as her face lit up with pleasure as she flipped through pictures of herself as a child with her parents. The joyful look turned to surprise as she turned a page and found pictures of herself and Jarod, playing together as children, completely unaware of the camera immortalising them.
She looked up at him sharply, “We thought no one knew......but you knew all along.”
He smiled, “Yes.”
She stared into his smiling eyes for a long moment before she spoke, “Syd....you could have been fired for allowing us to play together....or worse.”
“Yes.”
His smile broadened as understanding began to dawn in her eyes. After so many years of unsuccessfully trying to show her how much she and Jarod meant to him, he had finally broken through. Parker looked through the pages, bewilderment and appreciation taking their turns with her, until she finally stopped on the last page, the image within garnering the strongest feelings of all.
“I don’t remember you even having a camera, much less posing with me and Jarod for this picture.”
He didn’t need to look at the picture to know which it was, “That little moment was quite spontaneous, I assure you.” He smiled at her, “And I still don’t own a camera.”
“I don’t understand. If you didn’t take all these, and you surely didn’t take this last one, who did?”
Sydney peered at the picture upside down; even in that position he could not resist smiling at it. He was kneeling down, Jarod in one arm and Miss Parker in the other, each of them hugging him, giggling.
Gently he gestured for the book, “May I?”
“Of course...”
He smiled at the image for a long moment, then closed the book and set it on the desk. He picked up her Scotch and handed it to her, grasping his own in his other hand. He raised his glass in a toast.
“To Jacob.”
Of course. Jacob, the very person who had led her to Sydney on this night, had long ago thought to give them a gift which best demonstrates the true meaning of Christmas: A remembrance of love and family. Silently they each drained their respective glass of Scotch. Miss Parker set her glass on the desk and picked up the album once more. She smiled at Sydney, reached up with her free hand, pulled his face toward hers, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.
Her voice whispered softly into his ear, “Merry Christmas, Syd.”
“And you, my little one.”
She smiled at the turn of phrase; he hadn’t used it in many years, but even now it filled her heart with a warmth that was hard to describe. He would always be special to her, there was no denying it. Too much history had passed between them and their lives too intertwined for her to ever contemplate losing him. He was by every emotional definition, another father to her.
“Thank you,” was all she said as she turned to leave.
He watched her walk out of his office, the photo album clutched to her chest like a little girl with her most prized new possession. He felt a lump form in his throat; he knew he had no right, but he could not help feeling proud of her. Indeed, he knew that he loved her like his own. And although he knew she would never voice it, he suspected that she loved him. He wondered if she had figured it out yet. That thought made him smile.
fin
