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     Beautiful imperfections-Natalie Pearson

3. //Life was imperfect anyway.

Waridi.

Her earliest memory was running around the park in a pink dress, gazing at the bright blue sky, and the burning yellow sun, the surrounding green, natural.
The smell of freshly cut grass lingering in the air.
It wasn't anything really but at least it was hers and a happy one.

She'd had an imaginary friend, a blue butterfly she had named pipi. At least with it around, she always had someone to talk to and unleash all her childhood worries on. The days always seemed better with pipi around.

Waridi wished she could have asked her about death when she had existed. Maybe pipi could have had an answer because she was from another realm, maybe pipi would have been able to tell her where people go after death, or why they have to go. Maybe her young mind wouldn't have been able to understand, but at least she would have a picture of what to expect.

Couldn't they just stay forever?

                                      ***

A silent hush fell upon every employee when Waridi set her feet on the floor of her own building and took a step. A silence so loud it could be heard several blocks away. The tension was on another level, could be cut through like a hot knife through butter. She could feel the sympathy, she hadn't dared set foot there since... Well since before the accident, she hadn't really been interested in that business, and after the accident, the disinterest had grown worse. She glanced at the interlocking wooden floorboards, trying to ignore the burning gazes.

She dared not look at or talk to anyone lest the sympathy pierced her heart and came rolling down in big fat tears. That would be ugly. Pressing the private elevator to the top floor she waited for it.

She had never really been big on closed spaces, and as it moved up and gained speed, she could feel the space closing up on her and her head swimming. Her mouth dried up and the tightness in her chest increased its intensity. It was a good thing she was alone. She couldn't stand for anyone to see her like that, defeated. Grabbing the walls for stability she steadied herself. The transparent glass wasn't helping one bit either. She could hear the elevator creaking loudly, every little sound of metal grinding against metal like it hadn't been serviced in the longest time. She made a mental note to have it fixed. It just made her nerves worse. It lurched forward, beeping to signal the end of her ride.

"Miss Waridi," she could hear the disbelief in the receptionist's voice. "You came!" she continued in a high pitched voice, the surprise in her voice clear.

Waridi couldn't tell whether it was a question or a statement, and whatever it was, she could hear the underlying surprise but she answered it anyway, with a slight nod of her head to her direction.

"Could you please not let anyone through to my office, for now, please, I'd like to be alone for some time, please," she appealed. "Also please tell Helen, to be ready, I'll call for her."

Helen had been her parents' secretary for years, and if she was going to do this, she needed her. She knew the ins and outs of this place. The partners. Who owed who anything and who she couldn't count on and who not to spend a dime on.
   
"My condolences," the receptionist continued with a small voice. "I... They were good people, you are in my thoughts and my prayers."

"Yes, they were. " She hung her head solemnly buying time to remember her name. She always forgot names, enhanced more by the fact that she rarely ever set her feet into that establishment. "Anita was it?"

"Amrita miss," she replied with a smile so bright it should have made her life better. "It's okay, people always seem to mispronounce it."

"I'm sorry, I'm just not that good with names, I appreciate the prayers... and the thoughts," she apologized knowing how much of a pain it was when people constantly did not remember her name or said it incorrectly.

"It's okay. Your parents talked about you and they always said you had that problem. I don't mind really; they were proud of you," that almost brought tears to her eyes. Again. She couldn't stand to hear anymore.

"How many people are there on this floor?" she asked knowing she had to face them sometime in the future.

"There is your father's office... well your office at the end as group chief executive, then your mother's, she was senior principal, partner and operational manager, two other partner offices and the department head, making a total of five."

"Thanks for the information, I'll go ahead, "

***

The door shut with a click. She leaned on it, unwilling to let go of the steadiness it offered. The scent in that office almost made her want to run away. Like sandalwood and citrus, fresh, just like her father, but also still managing to be masculine enough. This had been his office, spacious with a lot of natural light. Large windows overlooking the city skyline. Everything in there had just been like his personality. Blue. Calm and serenity. The decor in whites muted greys and blues. Shades of red in a few random places, for others it may have been a clash but it all represented a man who had always been organized and calm on the outside, but a burning fire on the inside.

The company blueprints were arranged side of the wall, closed off in a glass cabinet. The other side she guessed were financial reports and legal papers. Both were under lock and key, but that was still too predictable, the first thing she would do was rearrange everything, eliminate predictability. If there was one thing she knew about business, it was to always guard your moves, jealously, and always be aware of your partner's moves.

Finally, letting go of the door, she took slow, tentative steps, and sank into the executive leather plush office chair behind the huge hard mahogany desk. Leaning into it, welcoming the comfort it provided, and the familiarity. She had sat on that chair before when she had been visiting, dreaming about becoming senior counsel for the firm. Her parents had always smiled and said it could all be hers one day if only she worked smart enough for it. She could smell the faint scent of pledge, wood polisher. Well, at least someone had taken the time to maintain the office.

Her eyes were drawn to the portrait of herself in a tutu skirt, pink, like most young girls, that had been her favorite color, at the time. She was six then, and her milk teeth had just only begun to shade off but she was smiling into the camera, proudly showing off the milestone.

Another one of her mothers', just of the same day, her arms spread wide as of preparing herself for a big hug, her face shining with excitement and youth. Her smile big and generous. Beauty and resplendence that could only be found in someone who was happy and content with her life. She was in a white sundress one that Waridi had dripped sauce on, but she wore it proudly. The joy of having children, that's what she always said. Life was imperfect anyway. Holding it close to herself, she smiled at the memory.

Beside the pictures, was what her family had called the happy jar, every day, they had kept notes, without failing, on why they loved each other. It was a tradition to open it on Christmas morning. She was going to do it alone that year, and nothing brought about a wave of raw pain like that realization. Picking it up, she almost hurled it to the wall but managed to control her temper.

Fingering the blueprint sitting on top of the desk, slightly open, she guessed it was the last project her father had been working on, a mall. She also knew that half of the board had agreed to it, and the other half not so much. The disagreement had been on locations. The Southern bypass and the Eastern bypass. Everything that was done in that country, someone else benefited elsewhere. Suddenly everyone on the board changed their votes and agreed, but for a unanimous vote they still needed her parents' votes, but they hadn't budged, and that had been bound to ruffle a few feathers. There had to be something. Someone was gaining or loosing for there to be a disagreement in the first place.

Something was suspicious and Waridi wanted to find out what.

Sure, she had no experience in architecture, but she had an education in the management of a business. Franchising, advertisement, and marketing. She was going to run the business side, leaving the practical part to the experts, she had agreed to take the company under her wing, and if there was anything she wouldn't tolerate, it was failing. She always finished her projects. She was going to do everything in her power for it not to run down.

"You called for me, Waridi," a voice called from the closed doorway and her head jerked up abruptly. She had not even noticed the sound of it opening. It was either she was too immersed in her thoughts or someone had taken time to actually oil the hinges.

"Ah, Helen," she acknowledged. "I didn't exactly specify the time, but I also didn't think you'd be here that fast."

"I could go back, and come when you're ready to receive me. "

"No, it's okay, the faster we get over this, the better for all of us," she gestured for the chair signaling for her to take a sit. "I was hoping you could help me."

"Of course."

Waridi studied Helen, she noticed the white specks of hair that had started creeping up on her temples. The crows' feet around her eyes were more pronounced... came with the age. Helen was fifty and had worked with her parents for a good number of years. Sure the work had been hard and the hours long no doubt, but the laughter lines around her eyes and mouth showed that she had lived a happy life. That she was satisfied with it. They were a symbol of the joy of having lived a full life. She knew if they was anyone she could trust; it would be her, she was familiar to her anyway, so it would be easier than hiring anyone else.

Dressed in a black skirt suit, with a red silk blouse, she looked conservative enough, but could also still manage to make a few gents nervous in the corridors of business. She was a beautiful woman, with her big round eyes, the color of the midnight sky, and light skin. Helen was good enough for an imaginary friend.

She was bound to know what had been going on and the beginning of all the problems.

"Let's start with this," she pushed the construction plan toward her. "I want to know everything."

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