With a growling stomach nearly stuck to his spine, yet buoyed by the unexpected news he had just received, Anemo showed up at Aura Gale’s door. The house was located on the even-numbered side of the street, at number 42. He rang the doorbell of the crimson door and, as it chimed, he had the impression that his stomach was growling louder than the bell and that his mother surely heard it.
Aura Gale, in her emerald silk robe, was as elegant as ever; she looked at her son with confusion and a hint of worry.
“Anemo! Has something happened to your furry ones?”
“Mother, I am your son—worry about me, not about those pirates who robbed me of my liver!”
Aura sized up her son from head to toe and back again, as if checking to see that he was in one piece and not actually missing his liver.
“Are you alright, son?”
Stepping into the house with three large strides, Anemo was already in the kitchen.
“I’m not alright, Mother, I’m starving. I had prepared a wonderful dish of liver with onions, and while I was on an important call with Arcibald, those furry ones of yours—the ones you’re so worried about—gobbled it all up, right out of the pan! They left the pan spotless... what else can I say?”
Aura struggled to suppress a laugh, coughed,cleared her throat, and after a sip of water, calmed him down.
“Your hunger can be fixed immediately. You’re lucky there are still mothers who keep some supplies in the fridge—not like others... who use the refrigerator as a piece of decorative furniture and, instead of filling it with food, store their glasses, slippers, or ladles in it.”
While she talked incessantly, her hands were busy putting together a rich dinner: turkey roast, olives, feta cheese, some real ham bought from real, hardworking farmers, boiled eggs, and fresh tomatoes from her own garden.
Anemo took several large bites, chewing as if he hadn't eaten in months, and then—forgetting protocol, good manners, and his mother's obsession with order and elegance—he began to speak while he chewed.
“Mother, those furry pirates struck just as I was receiving extraordinary news from Arcibald Peter Stone! You know him, Mother, how picky and stern he is, but it seems that, finally, I’ve blown him away. He’s thrilled with the new direction of my writing! Can you imagine, Mother? They’re going to make an animated series based on my book; Mistral, Sirocco, and Aeolus will be the protagonists!”
“Wait, wait a second... I thought you only had two kittens. Who is Aeolus?”
Remembering his mother’s phobia of rodents and dust, Anemo paused for a few seconds, then, clearing his throat, added:
“Never mind, that’s not important right now, but I swear you’re in for a pleasant surprise—even if your son isn't as publicized a writer as a certain female author we’ve known since childhood.”
Aura smiled with a guilty air. Remi Storm was the daughter she never had, but let’s be serious—she loved her son above all else. Despite his absent-minded nature, she knew the soul of this handsome young man who, if he had tried just a little harder, would have been married long ago, perhaps with children of his own.
“I’m happy for you, son! Tomorrow morning, first thing, I’ll stop by and bring you supplies... maybe I’ll organize your house a bit, so you can work more peacefully. And please, don’t be jealous of Remi!”
Anemo had already devoured all those delicacies and was now savoring a cup of tea. It was a peace he hadn't felt in a long time. The radio in the background was just pouring out a fado (the favorite genre of both), and the son, without a second thought, set his teacup on the table and took his mother for a dance. “Happiness is built from small things,” he thought to the slow rhythm of the melody. At the end, he bowed formally and kissed Aura’s hand, just as the announcer’s voice woke him from the moment: “And now we will talk with our guest about her new bestseller, ‘Women Cannot Be Trained.’ Dear listeners, Remi Storm!”
“Don’t worry, Mother, I’m not jealous!”
And, planting a near-parental kiss on Aura’s forehead, who had since led him toward the exit, he opened the door to leave. But right there on the threshold, in all her plump, fragrant, and sophisticated glory, stood Daisy Queen, her hand in the air, just about to press the doorbell.
“Mr. Gale, uh... sweetie!”
“My respects, distinguished lady! What wind brings you...”
“I have an extremely important matter to discuss with Aura, you know, our book club is going to be filmed next Wednesday...” but before she could finish her thought, Anemo interrupted her:
“I know, I know, Mother already told me! I’ll leave you ladies to it; I’m very busy these days. Kisses!”
Life had just taken on a few shades of pink for our scatterbrained writer, who was now totally uninterested in shadow-thieves or other nonsense for some detective novel. He had Fleur, he had the kittens, and even if he often pretended not to notice, he knew about Aeolus's existence too. He couldn't wait to write the next chapter.
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