2: The Crying Moment

The rain started after I got home from school, big drops falls and I watched the two raindrops on my window race on going down. It was a bit cold and something about the air smells like petrichor, I steadied my breathing before I went on to wear my happy face again.

It’s a smiling face I made for my family, another fake me who paints a picture that everything is just right because that’s what supposed to; to keep up with life even if you just wanted to fall on the rooftop of a high-rise building.

The Japanese said we had three different faces, the first face is what you show to the world, second face to your family and the third face that you never showed to anyone.

I was arranging my thoughts when I heard a scream downstairs and a loud sound of a glass dropping on the floor. I hurried to the stairs and saw my mom and dad arguing at each other on the kitchen.

“This is because you keep controlling things, you control freak!” Mom was like a freshly harvested tomato because of her pale skin she turned red easily when she‘s guilty of something, I wonder if I turn red also when angry.

But why was she guilty? I took a step backward and let my feet dangle on the last step of the stairs, there’s a white wall between and I could see what’s happening in the kitchen with only half of my face.

“This is not about me, this all started because of you! If you don’t hoard the things you see and pretend that it’s yours then we wouldn’t have this problem!” Dad retorted and crouched down to picked the pieces of his broken mug scattered on the floor above the breakfast nook painted in dark brown and black counter top.

My parents rarely shout at each other, yes, they argued, but that's what married people do. Dad was the calm one when talking, he looked like he wasn’t mad but I think most people have the madness in them especially when with mom, she’s definitely a hoarder and can be garrulous at times about the neighbors new table, center pieces, figurines, paintings, oven, or plant and the things she’ll do to not be irritated with that was to take something from them; small things like spoon, figurines, cups or anything that she can easily have access to.

Now, I’m not one who pry over things that don’t bother me, but I was shocked to see my parents holding each other’s throat and one was on the verge of turning into a pulped tomato.

Mom would have brought something that she’d put her life into to keep it secret but Dad had found out. And so, they quarreled on the kitchen, Mom held her hands to her chest and turned to the window, the rain had stop and my eyes widened when mom opened the access door to the dirty kitchen and shut the door loudly.

Now that's something.

I walked to the front door and saw mom stomping to the garage and opened the door of her BMW.

I followed her up to the driveway and her car flared up to the road. I didn’t felt worried at first because I thought dad would follow her but seconds passed and the smoke that her car produced slowly vanished with the hushed wind.

I ran back to the kitchen and found Dad holding a small dustpan and putting the shards on it.

“Dad?”

He didn’t said anything and continued to picked up the pieces, I noticed that the shards were colored dark blue, his favorite mug he got from when we traveled out of the country, dad had it on a bargain of half the price of a tall mug. So I thought that it was a lover’s quarrel I shrugged and walk back upstairs.

Later that night, mom hasn’t come back, my hands fidget on my study table and my blood run cold, usually, when she’s out on her car, she wouldn’t drive in the night because she said she doesn’t like night driving especially when it rains.

“Sis.” Ashton knocked on my door, he was on his sleep wear and thick glasses. “Where’s mom?”

I shrugged and decided to invite him down and tell him the story, he’s rational, understand things more than I am and protective too, and humble. He said it was just a misunderstanding, mom just walked away to cool off and Dad being the silent guy and the calmer one just let her.

That’s the most horrible thing I ever heard because as soon as we reached the end of the stairs, I heard the television mumbling something and a flash news saying that there’s a car crashed on a familiar end road killing the woman on the spot was on the screen, that woman, had been identified, it was mom, mom got into an accident.

"Sis, mom was dead?" I faced Ashton who gripped my arm tightly. 

Tears started to form in my eyes as it sink in, the news reporter said more details and I watched as the scene blew into my face;

Everything was going too fast. I was standing beside that dirt road, there’s a lot of blood particularly on the side of the driver’s seat, two men took a while to clear out the debris and with my eyes blurry I saw my mother got taken out of the crashed car by the medics.

I could hear the ambulance sirens and the waters splashing on the road. I am aware that there are many people came and circled around in their umbrellas and coats, there were dozens of them, huddling in small groups, some of them whispered their sympathy as if mom’s life was just another stranger who have unluckily died on a car crash, well, I think that’s just how it works, the world won’t stop just because you want to, people won’t show their mercy just because I wanted to, mom would not die, just because I wished to…

I took a rest from school and now I was in front of the stove, cooking bacon and eggs for breakfast. My siblings were much younger than me, I have to not act devastated and keep it going for them, because if not me, who would? Dad has been silent the whole time, he arranged mom’s funeral, he was crying earlier on the couch and I tried to comfort him but he pushed me away, Ashton and Andrea were silent but at least they’d come down and eat the food I made.

I don’t totally understand it but as the eldest daughter of the family I feel responsible to hold the family together. Even if it’s difficult for me too, there’s no need for further investigation, mom’s death was clear that it was driving on in a slippery road, if only it didn’t rain.

I washed clothes and vacuum the house, Dad’s work suits must be hanged and ironed, the things mom had taught me, I guess I applied it well in this misery.

But one night after I’ve done cooking for dinner, I called them out and felt that Dad became extra colder to me; he won’t accept my offer to fill his cup or talk to him, the dinner was like a gathering of strangers in the table posing as a family but failed badly, no one talked, and not even a single sound can be heard. Not until Dad put down his spoon and fork and gave an exasperated sigh.

“I want you out.”

My siblings and I exchanged looks and I slightly opened my mouth and turned to Dad only to realized he was pertaining to me, I gaze at Dad who looked at me in anger.

What did I do? Was I ironed his clothes wrong? Did I made our dinner bland? Did I not clean the house from the roof down to the floor? What’s wrong? There are so many questions in my head, I want to speak out but my tongue felt as if there's a barrier blocking it. 

I looked at him questioningly and he snarled.“I want you out. I don’t want to see a stranger in my house.”

“Dad, what are you talking about?” Ashton said and the air suddenly became thick, I don’t know what to do, I could feel my nerves moving and a shiver ran down my spine, what I don’t want to see was my dad’s angry face, he never showed it to anyone but I once dreamed of it and all I could do was cry. Mom always said that every person knows how to make an angry face and said Dad must’ve been an exception and laughed.

I remember her garden on our front yard, she likes to grow flowers, she always said it makes our house beautiful, and that’s true, with her orchids on a big chunk of woods, her roses, lilies, and lavenders, it’s a shame she couldn’t do that anymore. I forgot to water the plants. My mind echoed those words, but when I tried to moved my limbs to go outside, I saw Dad and the reality before me.

“Just like what I said Ashton. Harriet is not my child; she is not my daughter. I don’t want to see a stranger in my house anymore.”