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.”
My first instinct was to run, cry, and hide, any of those three. Maybe, I looked like a head that have a big watery eyes with skin pale as milk at the end of the dinner table. But I don’t care, why does Dad say words I couldn’t understand? “What?” Andrea reacted, her first word for this night. Suddenly, I saw the world on another edge, it’s a small box and I’m stuck inside, I’m cramped up, knees to my chest, my neck was down, hands together, and each seconds passed I feel the box shrinking. It’s like going to the horrendous night again, this time, I don’t care if it rained. I looked at Dad hoping he could hear my heart breaking into pieces because of what he said. Finally, Dad stood, he has not removed his gaze on me and I might looked like a little puppy begging for him to take back his words but he just stood there and didn’t even move a muscle to pat me. “Move away from us as soon as possible, I don’t want you lingering around here and doing stuffs, now that your mother died, yo
Mr. Stanley was old, small, slightly stooped and wears a full dark glasses with a thick frame. Just as how I imagined him to be, he held his head in his hands when he saw me in front of him, maybe he got the idea with my puffy red eyes. “Please sit down, Miss Morrison,” he said and rose to her seat, I sat on the left chair. His office was simple as the solicitor he was, with brown wooden walls, a tall shelf with thick hardbound books and a huge table that separated me to him it was awkward that I saw myself here at seventeen. “Do you want something to drink? A coffee, water maybe?” I waved my hand successively. “I just came here to ask why my dad became like that.” Mr. Stanley looked like he was surprised but behind that façade, he knew it too well, I don’t need to add more description on that, I want to know why’s that -- he knew the reason my father who’s not my dad decided to be a jerk and dropped a bomb at the worst moment possible. He rested his back and pulled something in
I pushed my head back and whispered the same. “Who are you?” I tried to take the image of the man in front of my face, he was taller than me and has curly hair, a square jaw, and amber eyes. I squinted my eyes and gave him a knotted forehead. “This is my house.” “No, this is obviously my house,” he said in a serious tone as if he was lecturing a five-year-old who doesn’t understand a candy cost money and trespassed on his property. I blinked and pointed at the knob with the key. “But the key fits, I opened the door, this is my house.” He looked at me appraisingly for a moment, The man was about twenty-five and looks like a rugby player, his stature towered me so well that I can hide in his strong muscly body comfortably, it didn’t compare to my fragile little one. “Look here, Miss.” “This is my house.” He kept on staying firm with his words. Playing tough, eh? “I inherited this from my mother who just recently passed away,” I pulled the paper I got from Mr. Stanley and showed it
The lady was wearing a mesh pink tutu skirt that almost touched the floor and white ballet flats, a loose white shirt was tucked in the skirt and she wore her black hair in a high ponytail, her cheeks were in a shade of rosy pink and her upturned eyes look sharp with mascara on. “My name’s Harriet, my mother left this house to me," I said in a dignified tone. She might have not believed me because her pink lips twitched but her sharp expression doesn’t change. I offered my hand and she looked at it for a second before accepting it. "Hello, then." “Blake?” The door swung open and the man that talks softly earlier gazed at us. “Yes?” “You’re still here.” He just didn’t ignore Tiffany's answer, but he pointed at my presence like it was a big joke for him that I’m still here. I gave him a frown and straightened my posture. “Why should I leave? This is my house.” The man closed his eyes firmly and ran a hand through his wavy hair before seriously looking at me. “I already told you
Over a cup of coffee, I watched Tiffany as she told me a story about the legendary wolf with her hands. She looked like my Math Teacher who instructs with both of her hands, as if agreeing also on what she’s supposed to teach, her expression told me that she teaches the lesson already for years, she got a firm and steady eye as she talks and a loud high-pitch voiced that show confidence and never falter. The difference between Tiffany and my math teacher was she doesn’t want to be a math teacher, she failed the entrance exam at a known university in another city and falls into a private college instead, she entered the only available course there and became a math teacher, her demise did well on her in the end when she landed a consistent paying job but the people she knows and her closest friends and family laughed at her secretly as she walks, she’s just another stupid girl who thinks the world revolves on her, but alas! She was slapped with the truth; no matter how much time you c
I reached the road that got me away from the forest, I walked home with my hands on my back and dared not to look back. It was a nightmare going there, Tiffany kid about me looking like the picture in the tomb. It’s like going to the wrong house was not enough embarrassment. “Why not?” Tiffany raised her brow, the way she spoke was something a bit lower than her usual, it's a bit manly, she went to her bedside table and poured tea on a nordic teacup, “I think they gave you access to the house.” She clasped her hands and walked in front of me with so much authority I could suffocate, she lowered her head to match my eyes. “What do you mean?” I inched back, what was she saying and what’s with the sudden change of voice? Tiffany pursed her lips and give me a scalding hot tea some liquid spilled on my lap, “Exactly the words I said.“ She stood and started to take the kit to my side. “You saw it, didn’t you?” She inched into my side and whispered. “The tomb he worshipped. I believed
Michael Summers likes to play safe. Even before when we were in primary school and decided to play hide and seek. He always hides behind my back and whenever I finished counting to a hundred, we’ll switch and he’ll be the seeker. But as I read his expression right now, I can’t help but judge him. “You followed me?” The words I spouted were full of spite, I can’t even feel I’m me right now, all I could sense was the color black and red. Back when I was a child, I was humming while walking and holding a white plastic bag in both hands, the road to our house was solemn, even though it was just nearing evening. There were funeral homes on the west road before I took a swerve to the right, I don’t like walking home alone but it can’t be helped, Ashton and Andrea were still small and need attention always. "What are you doing Harriet?! You should've searched for your real father, not gone into the woods and disappeared like that!" Michael was mad, and moments like how I handle this was
"Harriet! Where do you think you're going?" Michael roared. But I was unstoppable. I pulled out the bag we used for camping and walked toward the cemented road. "Anywhere just not here, Michael," I shrieked, tears spilling from my eyes. I crunched my nose when I felt Michael's pulling my bag. "Don't you dare stop me, you idiot!" I'm hauling my bag back but he was too, I thought about what the result would be. My clothes will be scattered on the ground.I gave my hardest pull and was ready to march away but stopped when Michael said something that was beyond unreasonable. "Harriet! You could live with me! I love you!" I could turn and face Michael to give a horrifying look but my feet feels like they were planted with stones on the ground. It's heavy, my bag's heavy, and my body feels like twice my weight. I don't like this feeling, I never felt the same towards Michael. I always looked at him as someone that has the same level as Ashton and Andrea. He was a little brother, my st