Model - An Empty Seat by Alicia

An Empty Seat

Beep. 

'Good morning sir, I have your mother on line 3.' 

'Thank you, Anna. Please put her through.' 

Beep. 

'Hi mum.'

There was a short pause where the flick of a phone cord fluttered through the speaker. 

'Hello Sammy. How's work? I was just wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner tonight, you've heard about Danielle and Christopher, haven't you?'

'I can't I'm sorry.' Through the thick interior glass wall of his office, Sam watched his secretary rearranging the pens on her desk, pausing to type something with swift fingers, phone cradled between ear and shoulder. He twirled a set of car keys around his thumb. 

'Please? You two... haven't spoken in such a long time.' Sam had spoken to Danielle last week, listening with a smile as his exuberant younger sister retold the tale of Chris' proposal with avid detail and teary relish. No, it was his father he hadn't spoken to in five years.

'I still don't want to. Tell Danielle I'm sorry. Bye mum.' 

He could hear the hesitance on the other end of the line, 'Alright. Bye Sammy, I love you.' 

Sam rolled back in his chair, resting his head on the pristine white leather. His thoughts fell on the objects which scattered themselves vaguely on the large expanse of marble and polished glass that was his new "CEO" table. Two sides of his office were indiscriminately painted white walls. The other was a floor to ceiling window with a panoramic view of the city. This was everything, his new world. But sometimes, when Sam stayed late to keep his assistant company in her vigil, all he could see on that horizon was the pastry hot orange smog that hung heavily over the world like a winter cloak that refused to come off in summer. It was suffocating.

Somewhere in the west, his family would be gathering for a happy event, just as they had for many years without him. Now, as he dwelled, ominous clouds rimmed the sky with an ultramarine menace. They hovered over his urban world, just as these thoughts muddied in his mind. 

A text slammed his mobile into vibration. A temporary respite as the pond slime marginally dissipated.

Sam, I won't even try talk you into coming, because I know you don't believe I'm allowed to lecture you. But I will keep a seat here for you. Dad says hi. - Dani.

It was more likely he had said good riddance. 

***

Eleven winters ago.

'Sam can you place the glasses on the table.' The sprawling teenage boy clunked his thick novel down on the ebony piano with a heavy resignation. The glasses were placed, one, two, three...to eight. Small sparkling rainbows gleamed off the facets of the taller glasses, swimming round the bulbous shorter ones and swallowed by the darkness of his ceramic mug.

Once the job was done, he sat back down in the doorway of his bedroom, opened the book and drowned himself in the sorrows of Westeros.

'Sam's about to finish high school, isn't he?' Aunt Rosamund exclaimed loudly. Her voice was shrill friction against the crystalline hum of the cutlery. Jarring. Unpleasant. 'Has he any idea what he wants to do? Our little Mary is doing so well in school, but really Year 9 is when it starts to count towards your future, isn't it?' 

Sam growled and sent his model car on a revenge mission. It tumbled off towards the table. 

In the centre of the dining room folding dough, were his grandmother, his uncle, cousin and aunt. As Sam glanced around the small salle bathed in the sickly yellow light of the solitary light bulb dangling from the recesses of his house, he noticed only the outcasts, his family. Lingering in the corner stood his father, silently forcing down a serving of sticky rice, occasionally beaming down at Sam with amusement in his eyes, which quickly dimmed as he gazed into the rest of the family.

Danielle had hid in the cupboard. Sam promised not to tell anyone until dinner time.

A small red Ferrari rolled across the floorboards. 

'Whose little car is this?' His aunt exclaimed with irritation.

Sam retrieved it from under the table, shooting his aunt a nasty look. 

'Oh.' Is that all you can say, Auntie? The Ferrari glimmered in his hand, whispering of blood and glory. A future. 

***

Sam reached past the neat piles of work contracts that Anna sent in sometime after midday. He picked up the little red Ferrari. A thin layer of coagulated dust rubbed off onto his thumb. The small black tyres had worn into a heavy grey. But the little yellow logo silhouetted by a midnight horse stood bold and strong.

He rubbed his palm against the bottom of the model sports car, feeling the rough plastic plate and the comforting whirr of the wheels as they churned the imaginary engine. Anna had always thought it was his son's, or his nephew's. In truth, it probably should be. 

The car keys beckoned him silently. Sam placed the Ferrari beside the silver framed photos of his sister. 

'Anna,' he began as he pushed open the heavy glass door, 'Could you please have Matthew prepare my car. I have to make an important trip.' 

'Of course, sir.' She smiled, 'Tell Danielle I said congratulations.' 

Downstairs, a little chirp awakened the sleep silhouette of Sam's very new Ferrari.

Author's Note: 905 words. I went ten minutes over. :( I had great plans for this story, but I think I needed at least an extra 20 minutes to have accomplished all I wanted from it, and in the end I decided that I just didn't like it enough. There are a million faults in there!!! D: All of it is just so wrong, but I just don't have the heart to edit it like I did with A Timberwolf's Dove. The name of this one needs work too.
Edit: I've added about a hundred words out of basic editing. :)