I just had a pretty good shouting bout with my dad. I asked him where he hurried mom so I can go pay a visit, but he refused to answer and instead pointed out how awful I look, and I reacted badly and got really pissed. We continued the argument until he just decided to totally ignore and just go to his room, so I went out of the house to cool down and get some fresh air.
I wish I could cry. Normal people cry to express their sorrows especially when someone they love died and apparently, I am not normal that even fate deprived me of tears. A Riley-Day syndrome the doctor said when I was 5 or maybe this is part of the curse my mom was telling me about before she passed on. But right now, I very much wanted to cry, and I couldn't, and I feel shitter than before.
A flash of light seemed to pull me out of the blankness and pain, but my attention was caught by a small hill of ashes on the table. What happened to the daisies? What happened? Then realization dawns on me that I probably have caused this. My heartbeat started drumming so loudly. This must be another dream, another nightmare to be exact. I have to wake up. I slapped myself hard causing my eyes to flutter a bit and I can feel my cheeks sting. When I recovered back my senses, I looked back at the flowerpot along with its daisies, intact and looking good.
I decided to head back home before a passerby or other customers in the coffee shop calls 911 and have the mental hospital pick me up. Besides, I am still not done with cleaning my room. I have already changed the sheets and have vacuumed out most of the dusts or ashes, but I think it is still far from clean. I was so convinced then that someone made a really sick joke and went through all the hustle of making a mess out of my room while I was totally dead to the world. But with all the craziness buzzing around me now, I wouldn't be surprised if a volcano really did sprout in my room that night.
The laundry room was hot, and the noise of the washing is the only company I have. I stared at the book I was holding, and I have been reading the same paragraph twenty times now and it's meaning still hasn't sink in. I am too distracted by the voices of my dad and aunt shouting. I heard a glass shattered --- worried that they might already been hurting each other, I proceeded to the adjoining room too check.
"What do you mean by sending Zaid off to that place alone? You can't do that to him, that's too dangerous… Once they found out he is already out there, they would hurt him, and we will not be there to protect."
Into which my dad replied, " We don't have a choice Lei it's already happening to him. He needs to go, this is no longer about you, or me or Zaid. He is becoming a danger to everyone!! Don't act as if you're blind. He will bring death to everyone in this town. We can't do that. They are innocent in this. "
"Alice has worked so hard so he would have to go to that place, she must have found something that can be of help. She must have told you something!!" desperation can be heard from Aunt Leo's voice.
"She did leave me and Zaid, didn't she? She said she needed the freedom so she can search for a cure to all this. She sacrificed this family because she thought it would be worth it in the end. But she failed and the right thing needed to be done. So, Zaid needs to go!!" Sorrow betrayed my dad's voice.
"Find a way!! You are the man in this family. So, find a way!! My sister has already done her part, while you snuggled safely here!" shouted Aunt Lei followed by sounds of footsteps heading to my direction.
I silently stepped away from where I was standing so I wouldn't be seen. Who are they really talking about? Is it me, really me? I have my fair shares of dealing with ashes lately - - but what the heck is that supposed to be related to me. Where are they sending me off to, it that's me? And what's these talks of dangers and endangering people's lives, so melodramatic like a scene in superhero manga. There seems to be so much I don't know about this family, but damn it all, I would find out.... But first I really needed to get these damn eyes checked, as I started to feel the pain in my eyes rising up again like it was earlier.
******
I was eight and just came home from school when I saw my mom with her luggage on hand leaving the house. "Don't leave us, we need you here." my dad said as tears pouring out of his eyes. He is kneeling, crunching on to my mother's hand as if he she was begging. "Where are you going mom?" I asked. "Sorry, I had to leave, and it would be a while before I will return or if ever, I would really be returning at all. Sorry, this is all too fast, and I don't have the time to explain it over to you. But remember I love you both" my mom replied. "This is not love. This is not how love looks like!" my father hissed. It took a few seconds more before I understood what she was saying, she is leaving and divorcing? my father. Immediately I joined my dad on the floor and begged her to stay too. My eyes were not crying but I can feel my whole body crying then. And then she left… and my father was never the same. He turned cold, cruel, and alcoholic as if alcohol could drown whatever it is, he feels. And then my mom returned, last year with news of her pending death.
Only a few days after my mom left, while I was playing with my then best friend John, I saw a man standing across the street wearing a black coat and staring intently at us. The man saw me looking at him and even though the darkness of the robe hid most of his face, I saw him smile. Smile as if he caught me with my hand in the cookie jar and as if he knows something I do not. I tapped John on the shoulders to catch his attention and tried to tell him about the man across the street. "wait" John said "These wheels on my truck got stuck"... When I turned back to look back at the man, I saw him with his not visible face a few inches from mine. And I saw his eyes staring at me. I was so scared, so I shouted so loud while trying to hit him with my then small fists then I passed out.
I woke up in John's house. "Thank God you are awake. What happened out there? I was worried sick" said John's mom as she fans my face with cardboard. I looked around to look for the hooded man, but he wasn't there, so I didn't say anything. "Water please" I said "and I am hungry".
"OK come on and follow me. I have walnut chocolate chips cookies baked." said John's mom. She set us up in the patio, the open air would do you go she said. Her cookies were delicious I thought. John cleared his throat and said, "We are leaving town Zaid. Mom got a job in New York and she said it pays well. We are leaving next month."
The cookies almost choked me. "You are leaving too. Everyone is leaving me."
"We'll just be moving to a different state. We can still write and talk to each other. I'll save up and you save up too so we can visit each other" I nod. Then after a month, a news of a plane heading Centella crashed, and no one survived the accident. That's the plane my friend boarded. So, I guess no saving up in the world would make it possible for me to visit them.
Everything was solemn during John and his mom's funeral service. As they started to lower down the caskets, I again saw the hooded man standing just a few meters away. I clutched my father's coat and saw the irritation marred his face but when he looked in the direction of was staring and he pulled me closer towards him. I don't know it he saw what I saw because he never said anything about it.
That night I took a sketchbook and started drawing the man in hood. And every day for several days as I locked myself inside my draw, I draw the hooded man until he doesn't scare me anymore.
Fast forward to today, I have been staring at my sketches of the hooded man while going through the memory lane of my childhood. Why am I remembering these things now? I put back the sketchbook on top of my side table, turned off the light and drifted off to sleep.
I woke up the next morning with my head throbbing with pain as if I drunk truckloads of beer and the hangover is already catching up on me. Funny thing is I haven't had any alcohol in a while now. I jumped off the bed and headed off to the bathroom, turned on the water heater and took a hot bath. The warm air inside the room created a mist that fogged the mirrors and I even needed to use my towel to wipe off the fog… Then someone inside the mirror is staring back at me someone I don't recognize.
To be continued...