Chapter 2 Ode to Struggle

The bar of his childhood home used to be a forbidden place for Chris. He would often sneak around the house hoping to simply sit on the high stools and play businessman. The image of his father drinking a glass of whiskey after hours was ingrained in his memory from a very early age, and he could almost see the stamp of his trousers' back pocket button engraved on the stool leather.

Today, however, the bar was full of drunk ass-kissers that stuck to the counter like scrambled eggs and the frying pan. As if they didn't have the means to taste that kind of liquor elsewhere.

He tried to escape the ballroom to go lay on his old bed for a while, but apparently it was being used to 'host the talent', whatever that means. His mother really went overboard with the party, inviting over three hundred people to celebrate his new role at the company.

Managing director, one step away from his father's position as CEO. But a party at the Wright's residence is never just a celebration, is it? If it were up to him, he would go out for drinks with the boys and consider it done.

But there were social standards to meet and people's hands to shake. Most important of all, to his mother at least, woman to be paraded in front of him. Speaking of the devil.

"Mother"

"Are you having a good time, son?" Patricia Wright could be called many things, but her most prominent quality was most certainly sophistication. If her elegant navy-blue dress, adorned with handpicked matching jewelry, wasn't proof enough, her poise definitely was.

"As good as it can be"

"Christopher!" she chastised in a tone perfectly tailored to reach only his ears in the most annoying of ways.

Not that he didn't love the woman, far from it. She gave him life, and a comfortable one at that, and affection in her own way. But she had unreal expectations for his goals and an unlimited amount of opinions regarding his personal choices.

"Sorry, mother. Yes, I am enjoying the party."

"Good. Have you met the lovely daughter of the Jacksons?"

There it was. Her number one subject of choice since he joined the family company, over five years ago. He thought that giving in to their wish to have a son taking over the business would be enough to take them off his back, but clearly it wasn't.

Apparently, his father could only embark on his well-deserved retirement once he knew a 'real patriarch' would take care of the company. Someone who 'knew the burden of taking care of a household'. His mother's words, of course.

"I didn't have the pleasure just yet"

"I'll introduce you two after the show. She's very docile"

Docile. Who describes a person as 'docile'?

"Sure"

"Perfect. Now come with me, the performance is about to begin, and I don't want to miss it. I know the perfect spot!"

Chris allowed her to pull him through the crowd, imagining just what kind of performance had the woman hired this time. She was always trying to outdo her own previous parties, and he had to give her credit. It was usually the highlight of the night.

He noticed when the DJ faded out a song to make room for whatever attraction was coming. A quick look at his clock showed him he was right, exactly midnight. His mother loved a good cliché.

He heard it before he saw it. Loud gasps took over the crowd, everyone looking up all of a sudden. He didn't know how he could miss the first swing of the enormous flowing fabric that dangled from the ceiling, but now all eyes were on the small girl hanging from it.

The music was spot on. Not only did she look like she was swinging from a chandelier but also the emotion of the whole thing. He didn't know much about circus performances, but he could feel all the sorrow she was conveying through the song. This was not the typical light party performance; it was pained and heavy.

Each split was opened and then forced to open a bit more. As if each action took a toll on her body and soul. She would fall along the fabric and show how hard it was to climb back up. And then, like her effort meant nothing at all, she would go back down into another fall. It was a shout out to all who suffer and rise to try again. It was an ode to struggle.

For an undetermined number of minutes, he didn't take his eyes off of her. Then he felt a bump against his shoulder, bringing him out of his daze.

"Sorry, man" drawled the drunken bastard. Only then did he notice most of the people had already gone by their business, ignoring the exceptional spectacle that was taking place right above their heads. 'Fucking idiots'.

He cocked his head back up to see the rest of the show, just in time to see her at the apex of the ceiling with multiple layers of fabric rolled around her body. She unhooked her feet from the upper part of the ribbon and spiraled down, picking up speed and rapidly approaching the ground.

Chris didn't know if her expression of despair was part of the show or if something had gone wrong, but he ran towards the center of the main hall just in time for her to halt a mere six feet above the ground.

At that moment, she looked right into his eyes and he could have sworn she saw his soul. She undid the knot that held her in place and let go of the silk, landing on her feet. He worried for a minute about a fall from that high, but her knees and ankles were clearly trained to absorb the impact.

Then she turned to him with a dazzling smile and winked. His heart turned inside his ribcage with that simple act, and he reached out to touch her like she was a delicate statue, too precious to be handled harshly.

She turned to leave, but he got to hold her arm before she could. He just wanted to ask her name. Why was she leaving in such a hurry? But a quick glance down made him notice a shiny object on her left hand.

"Where did you get that?" His voice came out weird, definitely a mix of his antagonistic feelings at the moment. That mysterious creature in front of he still amazed him, but his anger was boiling from the recognition of the priceless item attached to her ring finger.

Another careless guest bumped into him right before she could answer, and she took the opportunity to escape his grip. Then, favored by her petite size, she crawled between the crowded room and evaded the hall. He tried chasing her, to no avail. She quite literally slipped through his fingers and he was left alone once again.