Page 23 of Endlessly Raphael
I shake my head. “Nah. I knew it wouldn’t be cool. For a hobby, maybe, but never as a profession. So, like a lot of things about me, I just pushed it to the side.”
“The way I see it, you have an opportunity now.”
“With our marriage, yeah. Until now, I’ve been too busy surviving. I have to go to work tonight. This little dive pizza place, but the manager is nice. He’s Middle Eastern and wanted to help me even though I had no experience.” My eyes well with tears. “I don’t think I’m too good for honest labor, you know? It’s just…” I don’t finish the sentence. How can I without sounding exactly like I think I’m too good for it?
“You’re sad because you’re in this position and you shouldn’t be,” Raphael says. “I understand. Trust me. I’m well acquainted with unfair situations. My life now is wonderful, but before Yves found me, it was far from that.”
I perk up. “Really? So you actually do understand?”
“More than you know. Come over here.”
I set my mug on the coffee table and cross the room to where he sits. Raphael pats his lap, and as I laugh, I climb up. His arms settle around my waist. “I’ll support you however I can. Whatever you want to do. Run a company, design clothes, lie around on the couch so others can simply enjoy your beauty. Whatever you want, Haven.”
“Why?”
“Good question. Maybe I see a part of myself in you. Yves swooped in and changed my life in ways I can never repay him for. If I can do one nice thing to help someone else, maybe that’s the whole reason I’m here.”
I brush my fingers across his cheek. “So you’re my Yves?”
An emotion flickers in his eyes, but he blinks it away before I can name it. “Something like that.”
* * *
An hour later, after Raphael left to go talk to his brothers, I hold my phone in my hand, both dreading and reveling in the call I need to make. It’s now or never though. I press the call button next to the trustee’s name and tap my foot on the floor until he answers.
“Amir Hassan,” he answers.
“Hi, Mr. Hassan. This is Haven Samir.”
“Hello, Mr. Samir. What can I help you with?”
“I wanted to inform you of my upcoming marriage. I believe it means I’ll meet the stipulations of my grandfather’s will. What information do you need from me?”
“Oh, wonderful. Let me get the paperwork. One moment.”
I’m put on hold, and as classical music plays in my ear, I imagine my father’s face when he hears the news. He’s going to shit ten bricks.
“I’m back,” Amir says. “Okay, well, I’ll need a verified copy of the marriage certificate and to establish a schedule for the business update meetings.”
“Is that it?”
“Yes. When is the wedding?”
“This week.”
“Now, Mr. Samir, as your grandfather’s trusted adviser, I have to ask if you’re marrying a stranger or some other situation that will only end in disaster.”
“No,” I lie. “We’ve been seeing each other but we had a talk and decided we’re ready.”
“I see. What’s her name? I’ll note it in the file.”
“His name is Raphael.”
“Ah. My apologies. Raphael…?”
I shake my head. Dammit. I don’t even know his last name. I search the room for any sign, then notice a small gold plaque on the wall by the fireplace with ‘House of Orpheus’ engraved in it.
“Orpheus. Raphael Orpheus.”