The False Facade

From the rare view...

The hot Australian sun was at its peak, casting splashes of white against the blue canvas of the sky. From the mouth of penthouse to the distant stationing of the horizon, buildings in varying sizes and heights, filled the space. Across the streets, pedestrians and motorists appeared to be in a tussle with road use. And everywhere was a crisscross of activities.

That was the view of Duncan Eaton from his penthouse window. As a groom-to-be, he ought to be anything but relaxed- at least, that was the case with most bridegrooms. However, dear young Duncan was an exception to the 'rule'. If anything, he was balanced on his swivel chair, taking in the beauty that surrounded the city.

Diane had succeeded in pulling his heartstrings, the same way he was intermittently tugging at a yoyo. There was no denying the fact that he loved her. And by all accounts, she felt the same way for him.

Having first met at an art exhibition, he and Diane had been sailing in a heartwarming boat of love. People often said: have a thing with someone who shared the same interest with you. And now, Duncan could see the sense in that. He could clearly read meaning into the saying.

As a proud owner of one of the best galleries in the city, his points of interest were his work and of course, family. Not that dating or being in a relationship wasn't in his agenda. The issue, however, was that he hadn't yet found the right person to settle with. He hadn't yet met the one who had fairly same mindset as he. First, it was Geneva. The ever alluring Austrian model had set him on a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Surface attraction, Duncan could bet that that had been the case. In no time, the sizzling, certainly electrifying romance between them, came to a close. Five weeks, was it.

And then, came Gillan who had struck as the one. With a relatively slow pace of attraction, a highly infectious smile that graced her face and soothing words of encouragement she normally whispered to the ears of Duncan, it was enough to say that she was a match made in heaven.

Why the relationship had gone sour was a five syllablic word: insecurity. If it wasn't the case of suspected cheating, then it was her never ending complaint about her physique.

Duncan playfully chided himself. He should be looking forward to his wedding, not recounting the times spent on failed relationships. His thoughts should be about the start of a monumental event in his life. His life with his one true love. Diane.

As he left his seat for the wardrobe across the room, a knock sprang forth.

"Yes?"

The door pushed open, letting the middle-aged butler in. "You have a visitor, sir."

Duncan waited for him to continue. But the steady placement of his lips signalled the conclusion of his message.

"And this visitor doesn't have a name?"

"He prefers to remain anonymous, for the meantime."

What was that supposed to mean? Duncan thought. Yet, he shrugged off the anxiety that was beginning to set in. Surely, this visitor was nothing like a rogue or a psycho. Mr. Ivan, the butler, couldn't have come all the way here if the guest was some sort of creep.

"Alright. Let him in."

After discharging the man, he repositioned himself on his seat- forgoing his initial plan of visiting the wardrobe. He reclined further, deep into the chair, reminiscing the beautiful times and definitely, appreciating the good tidings that had located him.

Diane.

Right from the moment he spotted her at the gallery, he had some sort of feeling—he could call it 'interest'—towards her. It could have been the way she tipped her head at the oil painting of The Basilica or her gorgeous wooly outfit, that had caught his attention. Whatever it was, something in him had been piqued.

It was only a matter of hours, before he would be bonded to her. Only a matter of hours before he'd have her all to himself- running his fingers through her dark mane, sniffing the flowery scent of shampoo from her hair and cuddling her all through the nights.

The sound of the opening door woke him up from his thoughts. A man, probably in his seventies, strode in. Tall, with hair partly brown and partly grey. His build coupled with the lush moustache that laid atop his lip, was enough to make one think he was a brigadier.

"Oh, Mr. McGregor." Duncan stood for a handshake. "I wasn't expecting you."

"G'day, Duncan."

Duncan flushed at the man's reply, but he managed to say, "G'day, Mr. McGregor."

"May I?" He gestured to the sofa.

"Sure. Why not?" Duncan fingered the buttons on his sleeve. "Er, what can I get you? Champagne, rosé?"

Sprouting a smile, he answered, "Your presence is enough."

"Okay," Duncan dragged out, "Is everything alright?"

"I spoke with your father some hours ago and he sounded just as happy as I am."

The reply knocked him off. Still, he managed to speak. "My dad has waited for this all his life. I'm glad he's alive to witness it."

The smile was still fixed on Mr. McGregor's face when he said, "sit."

Duncan was about to sit on the opposite couch when Mr. McGregor beckoned to him.

"This seat is enough for the both of us," he said, "I hope you're comfortable."

"Of course." Duncan replied.

"Good," was all he said, before toying with the ring on his finger.

Although his gaze was fixed on the old man's 'little game', Duncan's mind was far away from what was playing out before him.

Lost in thoughts, was he, as he sat beside his soon-to-be father-in-law. Mr. McGregor always succeeded in giving cold feet to him, no matter how he tried to man up. It could have been the old man's build or his gait. Or the way he treated his daughter– like a porcelain doll. Any of those was responsible for the awe surrounding Mr. McGregor.

"So far so good, eh?" Mr. McGregor spoke up, bringing Duncan back to reality.

Unsure of the answer to give, he nodded.

"Hmm." He folded his hands and placed them on his laps. "You're sure of this whole wedding thing."

"Yes." His reply, more like a question.

"And can I ask what your plans are for your marriage?"

Clearing his throat softly, Duncan began, "I hope to give Diane all she's ever dreamt of. I'll love and cherish her forever."

"It's not all about promises, Duncan. Anyone can make promises."