HANDSOME MASTER (Late In Love)

Past Times

After dinner, the servants came to take back the leftovers and the dirty dishes, not here or in the house, I was like a princess.

"Come with me" asked Mr. Arga. He extended his right hand.

"Where?" manya curious.

"No need to ask a lot, come on, come on!"

I took his arm, walked out of the room, in front of the door we turned to the left, passed the papa's room and then entered a room with a white painted door.

"Whose room?" ask me before he opens the door.

"This is my old room, let's go in," she pulled my hand.

The first time I opened the door, I saw a room that was so neatly arranged with many paintings lined up everywhere, almost all of this room has artistic paintings.

My eyes were fixed on a fairly large painting, there was a beautiful woman sitting on the back of a boy in a cute black tuxedo suit with a bow tie, the little boy smiled cheerfully revealing his two front teeth.

The painting is not hung, but placed on a mattress while resting on the wall. At first glance I saw Mr. Arga's eyes condense as his eyes looked at the painting.

"It's good," I said slowly. I approached the painting and sat on its lap.

"She's my mother" said Mr. Arga. That is, the boy in the woman's lap was the master of Arga, perhaps.

"Your mama is beautiful, her eyes are exactly the same as yours, beautiful brown."

"This little boy, you, Honey?"

"Yes, I was eleven months old, not even a year old," replied Mr. Arga flatly.he cleaned a painting that was worn out with dust, but still looked beautiful after it was clean.

"For you" he handed me the painting, a picture of a vast expanse of flower gardens with a curly-haired girl dancing there.

"Forku? this, curly-haired girl?"

"Yes, I don't know what made me paint this picture, but I really like, the curly girl dressed in yellow in the middle of the flower bed. As it becomes a reality, now I'm marrying you."

"I painted it when I was nine" he continued.

My eyes widened in disbelief, I gawked at his words, it turns out that Mr. Arga has a very cool pent-up talent. Ah, I'm getting crazy about her.

"Why isn't this room occupied?" ask again.

"No, there's a lot of memories in this place, and I don't like it!"

"Alright, I don't want to argue," I replied slowly, enough debate about his past, I wouldn't ask if he didn't want to tell a story.

I looked back at the amazing painting of mother and son, the woman pictured there was so beautiful, her body tall and slim with dimples on both cheeks, my father-in-law loves his wife very much, because she deserves a lot of love.

Mr. Arga shows a large collection of paintings, from paintings of inanimate objects such as cars, motorcycles, natural scenery, to paintings of animals and flowers. I like everything.

"May I take this painting home?" I asked while pointing at the painting of a flower bed with the curly girl he had cleaned.

"Don't, ugly."

"All right, I'll just take this one home," I said embracing a painting of her with the mother.

"I hate him!" exclaimed Mr. Arga, this time the man again showed his face.

"Well, I won't bring anything," I said putting the painting back where it was, I stood up and left it.

Before actually stepping out of this room, I turned my head, Mr. Arga did not chase me, he was still sitting in his old room contemplating, I let him, let him control himself and his emotions. This hatred must not drag on, I let him stare at the face of the mama from the painting, let him contemplate himself.

I went back to the room, laid my body on the soft mattress while hugging the bolts, trying to close my eyes so that the chaotic thoughts and curiosity swirling in my head could be lost.

I decided to go back to see him in the old room, I peeked at the imperfectly closed door. Mr. Arga sat on the edge of the bed holding a painting of himself with his mother. Samar, I saw a clear feather dripping on the tip of his eyelid.

I know that in that great hatred, you have such great love and longing, only you are too naive to admit it.

For almost thirty minutes I stood by the door, sitting on the floor waiting for him. The longer I heard him start crying, my chest tightened, I was determined to get to him.

"Honey," I said, holding her slightly shaken shoulders, quickly wiping away the tears I had already seen.

Mr. Arga looked at me, his eyes were swollen, his hands were shaking with the painting, I knew there was a lot of love for the mother in his heart.

"Come here, I know what you're feeling" I said, embracing her, trying to calm the shaken soul.

"I'm sorry, Sabrina. I'm ...."

"It's okay, honey. I see, if you tell me all the burdens of your heart, then the pain will lessen, believe me."

"I don't know where to start, I'm so overcome with such great hatred for my mother."

"You can tell me from anywhere, I'll listen" I said staring at the two clear eyeballs.

A while Mr. Arga still did not want to answer, he just daydreamed looking at the painting in his hand, occasionally he glanced at me, making sure that I was still paying attention to him.

"Tell me, why do you hate a woman who has cared for and raised you so much, Honey," I asked slowly, trying as gently as possible to get her to talk.

"He didn't raise me, he took care of me. Papa is the only one who loves me" he said, listening silently to him continue his expression.

"At first our lives were so happy, when I was fourteen years old, papa suffered a great loss because of deceived coworkers, we went bankrupt, we fell poor."

"Mama left us, papa said that you were working out of town, I believe. Before that, almost every night I heard my dad and mom having a big fight."

"Papa sold this house to survive renting a small house on the edge of town while restarting the business from scratch, and to finance my school that wasn't cheap."

"Until one day, after school I saw someone who looked like a mother with a man whose age might be older than my father at that time. They join hands as husband and wife, enter a luxury car, and dart away as I shout to call him."

"When I got home, I told my dad what I saw, but he just said it wasn't my mom, maybe because I missed being in the shadows of his face" continued Mr. Arga, he told me with a blank look.

"Then is what you saw right, Honey?" I was wondering, I really can't wait to find out this heartbreaking fact.

"A week later, as I busked at a red light, I saw him again, with the same man at the time, he opened his car window, put a dime in my hand without looking at my face. I'm sure she's my mama" he continued.

I let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of the man who looked so strong on the outside, but in fact he was so fragile, his past was so painful. I didn't expect that he'd ever had such a hard life.

"I went back to asking papa everything, but he was angry with me, he locked me in the house for days, didn't let me go anywhere, except school. Sometimes, I hear him talking to himself in the room while looking at a picture of his mother" said Mr. Arga.

Not feeling, my tears are coming. I could not hear the painful story, the tightness filled my chest, the pain.

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