z
  • Home

Young Writers Society


18+ Language Mature Content

Reflecting Hearts - Ch. 11 - Bon appétit: Serving Truth at Dinner

by ariah347


Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language and mature content.

Thanksgiving arrived in a whirlwind, beckoning us to embrace togetherness. Because of this, Zeke and I planned to go to my family’s home. My nervousness grew as he drove my car through the gate and up the winding drive. My foot bounced up and down on an invisible pogo stick, and he gripped his hand over my knee.

Finally, my family’s estate loomed over us as we parked. He unbuckled his seatbelt, and his shoulders tensed as he leered at the property. There was a touch of uncertainty in his expression. He took it all in. The rich, aged, cream brick structure colossally expanded with a matching staircase leading to the long dark-wash wooden porch and white cylinder marble columns. At each pillar were elaborate potted rose bushes. Intricate engravings and polished brass embellished the large, black double doors. The towering windows, each framed with handcrafted moldings, the cobblestone driveway that wound through the meticulously kept lawn–it was all enough to make even another of high status grapple to be in such luxury. It starkly contrasted with what I knew about Desolaria, and I felt a twinge of remorse for bringing him into this world.

Suddenly, a wry smile tugged at his lips. “Well, this is a far cry from the streets I’m used to.”

His candid reaction was so charming that it made me laugh softly. “You’ll find that my family has a taste for the finer things.”

I tried to open my car door, but he stopped me by putting his hand over mine and shutting my door back. “No, let me.”

Exiting his side of the car, he strode confidently around the front, opening my door with a grand gesture. I shot him a glance, amused. He offered a quick reply. “What? Chivalry isn’t dead.”

As I stepped out of the car, my hand instinctively sought to ground myself with his. James welcomed us in the entryway. His neatly tailored uniform was symbolic of the formality that saturated the atmosphere.

We removed our coats, and he gracefully accepted them. He extended his gloved hand to Zeke, who shook it with a blend of politeness and more force than necessary. “Welcome back, Miss Abigail,” James greeted us, his voice as refined as his appearance.

“Thank you, James. This is Ezekiel. Zeke, meet James.”

Zeke’s gaze met James with reluctance, but then respect. This was out of his element, but he was trying. “Nice to meet you.”

James nodded before turning his attention back to me. “Your family has gathered in the drawing room, Miss.”

I swallowed a knot of nerves and nodded, guiding Zeke there. The polished marble floors sparkled beneath the chandeliers that dripped with crystals. As we walked, the sense of entering a world foreign to Zeke became more palpable. My home was a maze of rooms, each more extravagant than the last. Priceless artworks, including my mother's collection and her own pieces, adorned the walls throughout, along with family portraits. Down the main hall, we arrived at the drawing room. Its massive double doors stood ajar, inviting us in.

As we entered, Zeke’s eyes swept the room. The ample space had crisp cream furnishings and plush carpets, a shiny granite fireplace stretched along one wall, and elaborate light fixtures hung from the towering ceiling. Damask wallpaper with a muted gold and cream pattern gilded the walls. Large windows, dressed in heavy burgundy silk curtains with intricate tassels, allowed natural light from the garden to filter in. In the center of the room, a tacky Persian rug sat. My mother loved that awful thing. The semi-circle arrangement of plush armchairs and sofas around the central coffee table created a cozy seating area.

Zeke’s eyes glinted around. “A little too fine for my taste.”

I stifled a grin, marveling at his capacity to laugh even in such instances. “Yes, it’s quite contrived, isn’t it?”

Our entrance didn’t go unnoticed, and my mother smoothly sauntered over to us. She wore a knee-length emerald A-line dress–the green matching her eyes–paired with a thin, cognac-brown leather belt that cinched at the waist and had a gold buckle, undoubtedly real. With loose waves that framed her face, her auburn hair had a slight grey tint and perfectly complemented her pearl drop earrings.

“Abigail, dear, it’s lovely to see you.”

Her eyes flicked towards Zeke, and although her smile didn’t waver, I could see she was assessing him. Her gawking moved up and down, evaluating his black borrowed suit that was somewhat too small and scuffed dull loafers. His unease, because of the suit or her stare, showed as he pulled the white collar of his button-up away from his neck. It was likely both.

I reassuringly squeezed his hand, silently reminding him I was there. My mother reached out to hug me, her expression warming. My arms stretched, and although we were usually the same height, her brown high-heeled ankle boots made her taller than me when we embraced.

“It’s good to be home for the holidays, Mother.”

She released me and shifted her attention back to Zeke. “And who is this charming young man you’ve brought with you?” Her tone may have been polite, but her words had an edge.

I stepped closer to him, our hands entwining again. “Mother, Ezekiel. Zeke, my mother.”

Zeke extended his hand with a friendly smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Winslow.”

My mother’s demeanor softened as she accepted his handshake. Her eyes crinkled as she smiled, and a tenderness came over her features. “Likewise, Ezekiel. But, please, call me Rebeccah. Only yuppies call me Mrs. Winslow.”

His posture relaxed. “Sure thing. No yuppies here. Call me Zeke.”

Her laughter bubbled up at the playfulness in his tone, but the introductions from my sister and extended family cut the moment short. While the atmosphere remained cordial, I could sense the subtleties. Unexpressed judgments loomed beneath the surface, betrayed by lingering stares and subtle changes in tone. He navigated the dance of mingling with an unassuming charisma. His well-placed but strained smile reminded me of his being an outsider.

As we had finished our last introductions, my father entered, and the mood immediately quieted. He demanded a room’s attention with his presence alone. He was only a hair taller than Zeke, but his military posture and the sharpness of his shoulders made him seem bigger. His icy blue eyes surveyed the room. His expression remained cold, even as he smiled at me.

“Abigail!” He called as he approached us, wrapping an arm around my neck when he was close. His gaze shifted to Zeke. For a moment, there was a calculated pause as he sized up the person standing next to his daughter.

I inhaled slowly, wanting peace for Zeke’s sake. “Father, this is Ezekiel. Zeke, my father, Mr. Winslow.”

Zeke extended his hand, his confidence not faltering. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

My father’s handshake was firm, his eyes penetrating as they locked onto Zeke’s. “Likewise,” he replied curtly. His scrutiny stood in his straight and upright posture, his shoulder squared. It expanded in his lingered observance of the secondhand and worn cufflinks at the end of Zeke’s jacket sleeves.

“Abigail, may I have a word with you in private?” His eyes swiftly meeting mine with masked pleasantry.

 


Is this a review?


  

Comments



User avatar
662 Reviews

Points: 66068
Reviews: 662

Donate
Sun Jun 23, 2024 7:24 pm
View Likes
EllieMae wrote a review...



Image

Helloooo there! I am back, Again! Let's not waste any time and let's just jump right in to the review :D 8)

Thanksgiving arrived in a whirlwind, beckoning us to embrace togetherness. Because of this, Zeke and I planned to go to my family’s home. My nervousness grew as he drove my car through the gate and up the winding drive. My foot bounced up and down on an invisible pogo stick, and he gripped his hand over my knee.


Nice way to start this chapter, getting right to the point and setting the scene. We get the time and scene right away, finding out that it is thanksgiving and you also set the theme: togetherness. That is all that is wanted and needed at this time. I also liked how you described the physical expressions, like touching the knee, with so much details here.

“Thank you, James. This is Ezekiel. Zeke, meet James.”


I like the dialogue here. ^^ It is smooth and feels like a casual greeting. Also, I like your character names. They are not overly used, but also not super rare, so that makes it feel even more casual and normal like :D

My father’s handshake was firm, his eyes penetrating as they locked onto Zeke’s. “Likewise,” he replied curtly. His scrutiny stood in his straight and upright posture, his shoulder squared. It expanded in his lingered observance of the secondhand and worn cufflinks at the end of Zeke’s jacket sleeves.

“Abigail, may I have a word with you in private?” His eyes swiftly meeting mine with masked pleasantry.


Oooh! What an exciting ending to this chapter... but what does he want to speak about... privately... hmm. I also wanted to mention that one thing I really enjoyed about your writing is that you don't just say things like "he said" or "said (name)". Instead, you always add detail to document/explain how and why they say that, as well has the way they say it. Overall, this adds a lot of detail and makes it so much easier to picture the scene. Amazing work and keep writing, as always!

Your friend,
Ellie

Image




User avatar
191 Reviews

Points: 17503
Reviews: 191

Donate
Sun Jun 16, 2024 1:45 am
View Likes
Kaia wrote a review...



Hi, hi! Saw a lonely work over here and decided to stop by. Keep in mind this is one of my first chapters I'm reading here so things may not make a lot of sense to me but here goes!

First let's talk about the character development here. Zeke. This is my first time reading about this character but by the third paragraph I was let in on his character which is amazing. He was obviously somewhat afraid of this magnificent house he drove his girlfriends car to as evidenced by this amazing sentence here:

There was a touch of uncertainty in his expression.


And yet he exudes confidence with him grabbing his girlfriends thigh to stop her restless tapping (which both added fantastically to the tension and described the guys personality all in one shot. Marvelous job!)

And then this cleverly crafted part here:
Suddenly, a wry smile tugged at his lips. “Well, this is a far cry from the streets I’m used to.”
I'm almost going to place a sense of arrogance on this character with that sentence. Also, him wanting to open the door for his girlfriend. So yes that was a genuinely nice thing to do, but somehow the gesture seems deeper to me like he's trying to assert dominance and power? Quite intriguing. And the way he explains his actions with the "chivalry isn't dead" That seemed out of line causal. I suspect he's trying to calm his girlfriends nerves. Maybe that's why he put on those manly confidence airs. Either way, quite intriguing.

Now this part:
As I stepped out of the car, my hand instinctively sought to ground myself with his. James welcomed us in the entryway. His neatly tailored uniform was symbolic of the formality that saturated the atmosphere.

I felt that this part was a little rushed. First the main character is trying to grab her boyfriends hand, and then it's like this time skip to where James appears. I felt like the transition was slightly forced. But maybe that's just me.

swallowed a knot of nerves and nodded
this was an excellent expression.

Now a little bit on the setting. My goodness!! You really built up the suspense with describing the luxury the main character lives in. It makes me more curious about Zeke. If he is not of luxury born how did he even meet the main character? This house is giving me the upper class snobby type vibes. And while Zeke is well mannered, you make it clear that he is not rich. Huh. There must be a reason that keeps getting brought up. Good job keeping me questioning!!

the center of the room, a tacky Persian rug sat
this added a slight touch of humor. I was about to quote it and suggest revision because it stands out so much...but then I read the next sentence. The use of the word "sat" really stood out to me and instantly contrasted with the elegant word choice prior! And for food reason! This is apparently not an appealing item to the main character. Great job there!!

Zeke’s eyes glinted around. “A little too fine for my taste.”

Again, I see that challenging arrogance. My, my! I fear his words will get him in trouble. Especially in such fine of company.

Now as for the mother of the main character...she gives off stiff and proper vibes. Her appearance is well put together, and there's an emphasis I pick up on her leather belt...perhaps a symbol for sterness?

And, ah yes! The look down. Those cruel eyes searching for some mistake. There is bound to be drama. She can tell this is a burrowed suit. I felt a faint little bit sorry for Zeke, though I doubt his confidence is even touched. I hope he doesn't say anything arrogant in front of this woman.

While the atmosphere remained cordial, I could sense the subtleties. Unexpressed judgments loomed beneath the surface, betrayed by lingering stares and subtle changes in tone.

Well, well, well. The mother is also putting on some airs. Well played. But still the judging eyes and statements. I can totally picture this scene. This is quite a moment. The tension has been built up incredibly well!

Oh, I though the mom was BAD but the father doesn't even try to hide what he's thinking. And now he's going to go have a word with Abigail. Quite the drama! And what a cliffhanger there at the end!!

Wonderful job over all!! The scene was painted well with imagery and sewn together like seamless fabric. I don't really have any suggestions for this piece other than those I have already mentioned. As I mentioned before your character development is quite deep and I find it amazing that even though this is I think my first time dropping by I already have a very good feel for your characters. Impressive talent over here!

Wishing you well!
-Kaia





The universe will reward you for taking risks on its behalf.
— Shakti Gawain