Jays POV
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Palm Jumeirah, it's like being on holiday, except I am here to work. The temperatures soaring at thirty five degrees as I cruise the Bentley to my office. Taylor had laughed telling me that I'm getting old when I had purchased a maroon flying spur Bentley, smirking when I cruised it into our indoor locked garage. She had smiled when she sat in it with Henry in the rear sitting in his high back booster as we drove him out for dinner. If there's one thing I've learnt about my wife it is that she protests but she cannot rein me in when she sees both mine and Henry's smiles.
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Just like when I booked for all of us to go on a once in a lifetime holiday to the Great Barrier Reef. However the smile on our babies faces when they were sailing on a private yacht brought her around. Taylor had settled into my chest placing her sunglasses on and whispering that she loved us and our family.
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Gazing out at the palms, the streets that are pristine clean and to my left the Persian gulf shimmering and glistening in the distance. I turn up hozier and smile stepping my foot on the gas and letting the wind fall through my hair. The air con is impressive but with the fresh sea breeze I wouldn't ever close the windows.
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Reverse parking the Bentley into my spot I lock her up and straighten up my Armani suit and tie before heading up to my office. Rebecca, our front of house receptionist checks me in with a smile. I had upgraded her job from tea and coffee lady/cleaner. From now on she earns triple if not quadruple pay, however she insisted on maintaining the cleaning of the offices and is happy to bring along coffees at any time.
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"Afternoon, welcome back Mr Gilbert Scott" she smiles sweeping her blonde hair back as she takes a call over the phone and I breeze through the corridors poking my head in doors and greeting people, I am CEO after all. I had taken on the role years back upon the untimely death of my father, Andrew Gilbert Scott. A diligent ruthless man when it came to business. A big role to fulfill and one which utterly terrified me. I had spent years as a teen watching him work; it had been my only relationship to him. Sneaking into his home office at emirates hill in Dubai and observing his work. The deals he had made which I snooped in on, learning his ways and just knowing that one day it would all come down to me. I had primed myself for the role and yet when he passed away I found myself floundering in his office, looking out at the Persian gulf and missing his direction and continuous commentary on life.
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Opening up my door and letting myself in, I gaze at the large desk which I built myself and proceed to take myself through to my own personal cloak room. Two framed pictures hanging upon the walls where I set my blazer on the hook. One shot an intimate picture of Henry just minutes old in Taylor's arms. And the second of Emilia, my little girl, the apple of my eye. The gift of children, Taylor awarded me a life I never knew I could have by birthing them and making us a family.
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“Jay!” A female voice calls out and I recognise the sunny timbre to it. A carefree tone that had been missing for so long, a happiness and as I turn and face the sound of her calls my mother smiles. Upon the passing of my father she had been lost, he was her only love, the first man she married. And her only companion.
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“Yes mom” I say softly and she grins from ear to ear opening her arms to me. We only ever show our relationship as son and daughter in my office, after all it would not be appropriate for me to be calling her mom in the board room where I am a CEO.
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“How’s that little boy and girl” she asks after Emilia and Henry and I grasp my iPhone pulling up the latest pictures.
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“My darlings. Such long beautiful hair” she exclaims grasping my phone and eyeing Emilia’s long brunette curls. Taylor knows exactly how to style her daughter’s hair, when she leaves it to me I plait it and hope for the best. However Taylor always manages to create beautiful do’s with bows. In this particular picture Emilia has half of her hair pulled into a ponytail and a cherry red bow on-top of her head, stood next to Taylor the only love of my life.
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“Taylor looks wonderful, so well and happy” Claire, my mother says and I nod eyeing her in her red dress. A deep tan and sweeping voluminous hair, that’s my wife. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to check that I am not dreaming.
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“She’s very well” I smirk and my mother laughs. Running me through the latest, she is my COO, a position with great responsibility. Her efforts allow me so much time away from Dubai with my family.
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“Big board meeting tomorrow, however tonight you’re taking me for food and drinks” she begins and I grin taking a seat behind my desk and resting my head in my hands.
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“Of course mom” I agree giving into every single whim she has.
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“I was thinking, beach side drinks and perhaps lobster. Then let’s go do something fun” she announces getting carried away. When my mother mentions something fun that could be mean any manner of things.
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“What like surfing?” I suggest smiling and imagining myself back out in the Persian gulf. Usually I wake up and surf through the early mornings, before walking up the fine sand to the apartments and showering. Picking up an espresso before driving my Bentley to work.
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“No surfing. We’re going to that clairvoyant again” she announces her eyes glistening with hope. My mother is strait laced, business minded and deeply routed in reality most of the time. However given the chance to push the boat out she indulges in the exotic, we had visited a psychic before I met Taylor. Years before my marriage this very psychic had told me that it would all happen for me and I had been unbelieving and somewhat petulant about the whole thing.
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“Come on I need to hear from your father” she begins and I scoff.
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“If dad were to talk to us from the heavens he certainly wouldn’t do it through a dodgy woman in a tent” I smirk and she shakes her head.
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“That’s a yes isn’t it” she laughs grabbing her phone.
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“Yes I will take you to the psychic clairvoyant woman, so long as we get to eat first” I smirk giving in to my mother’s whim.
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***
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My mother and I had dined at Nobu, with views over the sea. Astounding and fresh produce although nothing beats my wife’s cooking. The experience was nothing short of wondrous, all be it we are now taking to the back streets in search of the small shack that my mother remembers from years ago before I had been made CEO. An angry adolescent who didn’t know how to love.
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“Are you sure mom. It’s this way?” I ask as she guides us down another back road a delivery guy on a peddle bike tears around the corner. The scent of food being made faintly in the background and a few stray cats roaming around.
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“Oh positive” she sighs looking down past the other buildings. Her sandals on, linen pants and a Gucci shirt.
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“Here” she says looking up at a small shack, unsigned. I glance over the wood and the chipped paint and follow her in. Burning incense filling the room. The scent of ginger and candles lighting the way to a large reception room devoid of people. No front of house, no checking in. No warm welcome. We take a seat on the large ratty couch and wait as I look up at the ceiling. Counting in my head and waiting for her to get disappointed when nothing happens.
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My mother clutches my hand and audibly gasps as I look down at the back door and take in the clairvoyant we had seen years before walking into the candle lit room.
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“I was correct” she says in a low raspy voice as my eyes wonder over her grey hair and her tatty dress. A deck of cards in her hands.
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“You’re married” she says eyeing my wedding finger.
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“I am, happily” I say not wanting to give anything of myself away.
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“Unconditional boundless love. With two children” she surmises and I hide my shock, how this woman knows about my family catches me off guard and I look down at the old table as she places her cards down and takes a seat.
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“This one’s for you” she says looking at my mother.
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“Life is all about swings and roundabouts. When it gives it also takes. Like the water claiming back life into the depths of the ocean” she admits with a morose tone. My mother sobs and I rub her arm, slightly uncomfortably.
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“A loss is still a loss” the woman explains, closing her eyes briefly. Waiting patiently I watch her face, serene and lost. Until she opens her mouth again and utters a few words.
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“Acceptance is closure, although it was unexpected there is peace to be found” she utters and my mind scrambles. My mother cries and the woman picks up her cards. It’s just that her choice of words are so like the ones my father would string together and I eye the woman like she is a force of nature, utterly powerful. Not to be treated with disrespect. She smiles triumphantly and lays out a set of cards facing me intently.
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“You know better than to disregard my warning” she says slowly.
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“Be ready” she says slowly.
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“Be cautious” she adds eyeing me and a card with skeletons on it.
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“Be accepting” she explains before revealing another card, her face dropping slightly as we take in a card with a collapsing tower.
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“Lord” she says surprised before eyeing me.
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“Interesting soul you are; be free” she says cryptically before standing and collecting the cards up one by one letting me sit with my thoughts as she disappears.
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“Be cautious Jay” she repeats walking into the dark back room as I wonder how she may know my name I collect my mother up from the old couch and guide her back through the dusty streets where my mind baffles over the notion of being free. And how it could possibly fit in with my life and my future.
