The Ball in The Box

The next few days seemed to blur by. Orian could barely take care of the details of his fathers funeral and Lagarus assisted. It was a humble burial and not many showed. Orian stood stoic as he watched his fathers casket lowered into the ground. Grief filled him as the coffin was engulfed in the shadows of the grave. He towered over his friends yet somehow felt smaller. Orian did not stay for the rest of the ceremony, but instead quietly walked to his home.

He was still surrounded by servants, but the house felt crushingly empty. He had not walked into the office since that night. He was not used to feeling this way and it caused him to resent the office and every last book or paper that witnessed his downfall. A silly thought, but grief warped all reason in his mind. Orian turned to go towards his room when he heard the office door open. He turned to look and see if by some miracle his father would be there. Instead it was a servant girl. She had opened the office with cleaning supplies in tow.

Orian's heart raced. The room itself was evil and this servant was letting the poison leak in the house. "GET OUT OF THERE!" he screamed. The servant girl, shocked and confused, dropped her cleaning supplies and her face twisted in fear. She stared wide eyed and frozen. Orian, finally fully blinded by his anger and sorrow, pushed her out of the room as he quickly ran across the floor grabbing books off the shelves. He began tossing them across the floor. He slammed pages against walls. He screamed as he began smashing objects off the tables and ripping pages from binders. He opened drawers with heavy hands and threw them across the room emptying the contests on the floor. It felt so fast to him. Time speeding up as he let his explosive emotions overtake him.

When it was done and the room was covered in the refuse of the guilty objects he sat in his father's chair and began to finally weep. He had lost everything. His mother was already taken and his father was gone now too. He was alone. He was just barely old enough to overtake his father's businesses but how could he. He was not raised in a way that prepared him for such a huge change. He wished he could have had more time.

He was angry at his father for leaving him so unprepared. He was angry at himself for not seeing the pain behind every smile his dad once had. He was angry that the most time he had spent in this office was happening now, right now, that his father was gone. A few days ago he would have groaned at the thought of being called here but now he regretted everytime he had walked by the door.

There was a knock and Orian snapped out of his head back to the destroyed room. He blinked and didn't respond to the knock but the door opened and it was Lagarus. "What are you doing here?" croaked Orian.

"I came to check on you." replied Lagaurs in his monotone way. Orian wiped his face as he began to awkwardly stack the few pages left on the desk.

"I'm fine." Orian stated flatly. Lagarus said nothing but quietly helped pick up items. Orian had not originally planned on actually cleaning the room but the quiet motions seemed to help a bit. When the room was finally free of the strewn pages Orian sat down on the couch near the fireplace and Lagarus silently sat as well. They both stared into the fire. It was weird, Orian and Lagarus had never really been super close as the others. Armand was more the glue between them all. However, at this moment Lagarus' calm and cool head seemed to be exactly what Orian needed. "Thank you." Orain said, finally breaking the silence.

Lagarus nodded, not removing his gaze from the fire. "The ball will get smaller," he replied. Orian looked upon his friend, not sure what he was saying.

"What?" Orian questioned.

"Back in the war…there were many reasons for people to grieve." Lagarus said. "They described it as a ball in a box. In the box there is a button. If pressed the button causes pain and sadness. At first the ball in the box starts off large. Any movement causes it to press the button. The pain and guilt flood you. Every move can feel crushing…but over time the ball gets smaller. As such it hits the button less and less. The button never stops hurting. Maybe months or years go by and the pain will feel the same. But the button won't be pressed as often the smaller the ball gets." Silence again filled the room.

Orian tried to digest Lagarus' words. Though they made sense he couldn't help feeling that he wanted the button to stop being pressed all together. "You will need to start getting your affairs in order," said Lagarus. Orian didn't say anything, still looking into the fire as emotions began to swirl around inside him again. How could he possibly think of straightening out the tangled mess his father left behind when he was in such states.

Lagarus could sense the change in the air around Orian and sighed. "If you need, I know a great lawyer who would help you get all your affairs in order."

"I would like that." replied Orian drily. He liked the idea of someone else taking care of the specifics.

"His name is De Lapointe." said Lagarus, lighting a cigarette he had just removed from his pocket with a card. He took a quick puff before he handed the card to Orian. Orian took the card into his hands and looked upon the writing. Then closed his hands around it and looked at the fire again. They both stayed sitting there for a while in silent company.

Armand and Dimitri, who were left behind at the funeral, decided to leave after a respectable amount of time and head toward 'The Beggar'. They walked into the bar. It was unchanged and the world was moving even after a friend's life went crashing down. They found their favorite table empty and sat. After a few drinks and toasts to the honored departed both Armand and Dimitri sat with a small buzz that warmed them.

"I'm going to go on that stage and play music." Dimitri said slyly. Armand chuckled as he drank the last remnants of his drink.

"One of these days Dimitri, John is going to throw you out." he said, placing his cup down on the table and waving for another. Dimitri shrugged and slipped out a cheeky grin as he maneuvered his way closer to the stage. Dimitri waited for a good moment to squeeze behind the stage and found his guitar. When the group already on stage left Dimitri walked on from the opposite side and sat down.

His eyes caught that of John who stared at him with smoking eyes that dared Dimitri to tick him off. Dimitri, however, took this as a challenge rather than a threat. He finished setting up then he played a string of music that was as loud as he was. Most patrons covered their ears and pointed toward Dimitri with disgust written in their face.

As each note grew Dimitiri was lost in the music. Obviously he and he alone was enchanted by the loud abrasive tones. Armand clapped to try somehow aid the crowed into possibly liking the noise coming from Dimitri's guitar, but it was to no avail. After only a few minutes Dimitri was removed from the stage and the bar sat with muttered voices of annoyance.

"Your lucky John only had you removed from the stage." Armand said, waving to a waitress to get another round for the table. Dimitri sat in annoyance.

"It's bullshit!" Dimitri retorted, annoyed and almost slamming his hands on the table.

"What is that noise you call music again." Armand asked.

"It's called Rock music Armand and I'm telling you it will catch on. I'm just ahead of the time." Dimitri snapped.

"Mmm…" said Armand, "well maybe you're too far ahead." He laughed clearing space for the waitress who came with the drinks.

"No, I'm not." replied Dimitri, grabbing the drink placed in front of him. "I heard another band do it."

"Do what? Make noise." Armand retorted.

"Music. It's music, Armand. Don't be upset cause you don't understand it." Dimitri shot back.

"Ok ok," said Armand, picking up his drink and waving it in a dismissive way toward Dimitri. "Well, you will need more than one person to like your music to make it."

"Excuse me" said a voice walking toward the table. The men looked up shocked to see a well dressed elderly diva. She was dripping with extravagance. Pearl necklace and diamond earrings. Her fur coat seemed a little too big for her frail frame, but her eyes burned with confidence.

"Can we help you?" asked Armand in a curiously puzzled way.

"You there," she said, pointing a gloved ringed finger toward Dimitri, completely ignoring Armand's question.

"Yeah?" Dimitri said a bit too harshly, the annoyance of his performance still stinging on his tongue.

"Madam Teresa Palisai." Dimitri froze, he knew who this was, but in actuality had never seen the madam. Her name was legendary in the music world. She had made enough money to open her own opera house and continued to sponsor up and comers. His slight pause and gaze made the madam's lip curl into a sly smile. One that spoke of how sharp her eyes were.

"Madam Teresa Palisai, it's an honor to meet y…"

"Oh, don't try to use that dabanoir act on me," she interrupted, giving a wave to physically dismiss his charm. "I watched your performance Dimitri, do you know what I thought?" Dimitri was taken aback by her quick dismissal of him, but surly she would not walk up to him to give a bad critique…right?

"You thought it was a good spark?" He said coyly.

"Ha!" she shot back, tossing her head with the motion. "You were loud. You were uncoordinated. You were peaking on the microphone. You were abrasive and cared nothing about the people listening to you. You obviously lack any sort of training. Not to mention a real way to capture the audience. You are a trainwreck, one that I couldn't close my ears to even if I wanted to." Armand and Dimitri sat in silence.

Had it been a young man, Dimitri would have physically started an altercation. However, as this was a world famous Diva who was elderly and frail, they sat motionless. "But," she continued, "You have a spark." Armand's eyebrows rose in shock while Dimitri's smile began to curl excitedly. Madam Palisai placed two cards on the table. "For you and your friend." She said with a swagger as she turned to leave.

"Oh, Madam Palisai, I am not a musician." Armand said, picking up the card and lifting back toward her.

"I know," she said, turning to meet Armand's gaze. "Your hands are too soft and you're far too stiff to be remotely considered charismatic…but I can teach you much more than music." she said with a playful wink and continued out. Armand was taken aback as the realization of what she implied sank in.

After she left the bar, the weight which seemed to paralize the two lifted and Dimitri roared with excitement. He grabbed his drink and guzzled it down then slammed it on the table. He then playfully said, "You gonna take her offer?" Armand placed the card back down on the table and, as kindly as possible, mouthed the words 'no.' He then drank from his cup again and his eyes caught Lagarus and Orian walking quietly into the bar.

"Dimitri," Armand began quietly, "Orian just walked in." Dimitri was about to turn to turn excitedly, but Armand continued. "Don't forget we buried his dad earlier. So keep your good news to yourself."

Orian looked over and saw the two sitting on the table. At a quick glimpse he could tell that armand had just finished saying something to Dimitri, and the button seemed to be pressed again. The striking pain pulsated, feeling somehow worse than before. He knew others would walk on eggshells around him, but he didn't think it would cause him so much discomfort. "Maybe I should go." He said, slightly disheartened.

"You wanted a drink, we are getting a drink." Lagaurs said in his uncaring way. "Why change your mind now?" Orian didn't respond but instead turned to the bartender and ordered two drinks to meet him and Lagarus at their normal table. They walked over and sat down. There was a bit of silence until the tap of the two new glasses hit in front of them.

The table felt heavy and it was a bit hard for Orian. The ball was still large in its box and he was not ready for his most trusted friends to show such pity in their eyes. He was not used to this look from others. He was always the strong one. He was the most stable. He realized that conversation started around him between his friends but it was hard to pay attention.

How dare life keep going around him and the world move as if nothing had happened. He realised he missed the non-moving house he came from. Noise seemed to make him feel betrayed but silence seemed a weight crushing down. He was not truly happy anywhere. Nothing stopped the ball from pressing the button. Sour bitterness panged on him and he picked up the cup and drank heavily.

The alcohol washed it away glass by glass until Orian was thoroughly marinated in his cup. The rest of the night was a blur. He remembered his friends bringing him home and the mesh of colors and lights. He remembered falling and laughing. He felt out of his body watching the experience. He remembered bleeding and crying. Then he remembered the soft sheets around him. The toxins of his drink numbed the pain of the button, but in the morning it hit him worse than before. There really was no way to truly stop the pain the button caused.