Desmond #3

Issex, Nottstrait 6. August 20th. 07.32 p.m.

Gulped as i rang the bell and stood in front of the number 6 house of Nottstrait Road. Rufus was waiting in the car just around the corner. Forbid him to come closer. Told him to find a place to stay. Would call him if I need his help and that was it. Other than that, i was on my own. Even shook slightly. Rather embarrassing to be acknowledged. For a person like Desmond Holzman-Lyon to shake. An embarrassment indeed.

Heard voices shouting behind the door. Something like "Tim, can you get the door? I still have to find my tie." A grunting noise and the usual protest followed before being ended with an "okay". Heart was beating like mad the moment the door swung open.

At that time I knew that I couldn't be wrong. It was so obvious. Yes it did and at the same time it was marvelous to finally found my so-called biological father. Got too excited that I laughed and yelled a "I knew it". The man wasn't even looking at me. Significantly taller, he didn't notice me at first. Only when I made a voice then he looked down with a distinguished confusion smeared on his face.

Pretty much and unequivocally my twin. Uncanny indeed, to see the perfect replica of yourself - but much older in age - standing in front of you. The only difference is - as predicted - my eye that resembled those of Mother's. The same disheveled coiffure in the same hue, few curling at some places. So much alike.

"What do you want, kid?" remembered him uttering such words.

I answered with, "You are Tim Fischer, correct?" Just to be sure. Well, it was genuine truth. The hell with DNA test. Even the most asinine of all could tell that I am indeed his son.

"Yes," he answered with left eyebrow raised.

Know that I have to come up with an excuses. Who I am, what is my purpose. Too awestruck to do the aforementioned things. End up standing there looking at Tim Fischer with mouth half-opened.

A "Who's that Tim?" fortunately broke the ice, followed by another man, walking towards the door. Younger than Tim Fischer. Blonde hair and significantly taller. Didn't know anything about the other man. Looked surprise to see me, I could tell. Turned to look towards Tim Fischer who did nothing but look back to me, waiting for an answer.

"My name is-."

Hesitated. Thoughts swarmed through my head. Came here with two choices. Telling the truth or made up some story. Wanted to know whether this biological father of mine knew about my existence. Judging from his reaction, he didn't. For he would look surprise whereas he just stood there as if I am a conventional child, asking for a trick or treat at a wrong time. Thought that maybe Tim Fischer knew the name Desmond. Mother had probably mentioned my existence as the son of Janina Holzman. Not the son of Janina Holzman and Tim Fischer. That part was simply discarded.

So faking my history it is. After all, will be waiting for Tim Fischer's expression the moment he acknowledge the existence of a son. Revert to Plan-B.

"Damian."

And why am I here? Being the genius I am, I had come up with excuses, rational enough to be accepted by grown-man. Here it is. Something that I come up with this ingenious mind of Desmond Holzman.

"I am a relative of Janina Holzman. She sent you an e-mail before (of course it was a forgery made by me) pertaining my arrival. As for the intricate matter, I am here to spend the summer, learning from the proficient in term of Quantum Physic. Didn't look like much but I assured you that I-,"

At that point Tim Fischer had closed the door on me. Felt like a slap on the face. Clearly didn't know a thing about manner. Knocked on the door again, harder this time. Heard an ongoing argument at the other side. The other blonde man was proving his point how rude it was to slam the door in front of my face. Tim Fischer just gave a series of grunting noises.

It was something like, "He's just a kid. Maybe he needs your help."

It was followed by Tim Fischer with a, "He gets the wrongs place. I don't even know that bloody kid. Besides, we already had that reservation in Quatre Saisons."

Then there was this long-spoken "Please", resembling that of a little child, asking for a cup of ice-cream to his parents. A 3 second pause a similar "okay" was heard before having the door, once again, being opened.

So, that was pretty much how I managed to enter the number 6 house of Nottstrait under the name 'Damian'. Believed that spending the whole summer in this house would be magnificent yet cumbersome. Got to know my biological father. Pretty rude at first, but knew that this was going to be brilliant. Definitely feeling the aster.

Wish me luck.

-Des