BASH
I am so annoyed with the art teacher who didn’t appreciate my watercolor painting. I hop out of the car without thanking my driver.
Sprinting inside the house with my backpack tightly grasp, I stomp my feet to our expansive living room. I was practicing the same concept last night over and over again until it looked satisfactory.
I admit I’m so bad at art, but it hurts my ego because I’m excellent at every subject. I can play the piano, cello, violin, and guitar with my eyes closed. I can solve math in just one look at the problem, but art? Ugh! I grimace at the thought of it.
I stop to halt when I notice mom and one of her best friends are laughing together. Their voices are echoing in the living room.
They abruptly stop when they notice me.
I roll my eyes. Mom’s beautiful face lights up and smiles at me. Aunt Zoey, the redhead does the same. I smile timidly back at her.
I’m not in a mood to deal with them, especially mom. I’m already eleven years old, she still pecks me on my lips and pinches my face in front of everyone—it’s annoying. Who do girls like a mama’s boy?
“Hey, mom. Aunt Zoey.” I play cool because everyone knows that I’m a good boy of the King and Hughes.
I stride to the carpeted staircase, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I almost bump into Kiara, whose standing in the middle of the stairs. Her right hand is gripping the rails, and the other is on her sketchpad, pressing against her chest.
“Bash!” she shrieks in surprise.
Her green eyes are big and grow even bigger. Her curly or more or like ringlet red lacks is like she has jammed her finger to the electrical outlet—so messy. She reminds me of Nerida. She has freckles all over her face, and she’s too skinny. She’s Aunt Zoey and Uncle Logan’s daughter—our family friends. Kiara’s parents both work in our company.
“What are you doing here, goldfish?” I narrow my eyes, asking her annoyingly.
Her lips quiver. She doesn’t like the nickname I give her, but I like to annoy Kiara.
“You’re a bully, Bash.” She murmurs and doesn’t meet my gaze as she grips her sketchpad to her chest. She didn’t meet my gaze.
“Well, you look like goldfish, Trinity,” I say mockingly.
“I’m not a fish, and my name is Kiara,” she says softly with a shaky voice. I know she’s going to cry.
“Whatever Kiara or Trinity! You still look like a goldfish. You have orange hair with big eyes,” I say, demonstrating how big her eyes are. “And what’s in that sketchpad of yours?” I quickly snatch from her grip. “As if you knew how to draw,” I grunt as I flip through pages.
She tries her best to snatch it back from me, but I’m way taller than her. In the end, she stops when she struggles to reach for my hand that I raise in the air.
“Give that to me, Bash, please?” Kiara starts crying, eyes filling with tears. She twists her fingers, sliding down herself at the railings of the stairs.
“Oh, sorry, Trinity, but this is now mine, and I know there’s nothing worth looking in here.” I continue flipping each page. My eyes widen at what I see. “You did all these, Trinity?” I can’t believe she can actually sketch like these. “Or your mom did these? Don’t lie to me. You don’t know how to draw, goldfish.” I laugh out loud, but deep inside, I feel something unfamiliar. She’s good at something I don’t, and I’m jealous of her.
“I did all that. Please, give that back to me,” Kiara says between sniffing and twisting fingers.
I almost chuckle as I see a drawing of a boy in Manga surrounded by hearts. I look at her for seconds. With a mischievous grin, I point to the sketch of a boy. “And who’s this?”
She looks at me, wiping her tears on her cheeks. “That’s you.”
BASH The chilly air wraps my skin as soon as I step out of my family’s private jet. I inhale deeply the smell of New York City—the city that never sleeps. Welcome Back, Bash! It’s good to be back! Those skyline buildings, the noises, the citylights, and the New Yorkers—I miss all of them. I get inside of the black Rolls Royce of my Grandpa Mike. My stomach churns at the thought of being back. When I think I get myself prepared for this, but I am wrong, and the anxiousness starts crawling in my skin. Now that I’m here, I want to go back to London and stay there for the rest of my entire life. But I promised my family that once I finished college, I will be back—that’s one of the two reasons why I’m here. “Welcome back, Sir Bash!” The family driver of early forties greets me with courtesy; he turns to me and nods from the driver's seat. “I’m Edmund Russell. Your driver, Mr. Hughes.”
BASH My head snaps to Lizzy’s boyfriend, Dean. I don’t like him so much, but who am I to judge, and he seems to make my sister happy. But if he ever hurts my sister, I won’t hesitate to break his face. Dean marches in my direction. As a golden boy, I give him a smile that I mastered since I was a kid. “Good to see you again, man.” I extend my hand, and he grips it tightly with a manly hug. “Welcome back, Bash.” “Thanks, Dean. So, how’s the new lawyer?” His face lights up. Honestly, he’s perfect for my sister. He gets the look that can be the future senator, built like a soccer player, and a brain that could pass laws for the country’s future. “Thanks for asking, Bash. Just got a case yesterday. A company files a lawsuit against your dad’s company. I shouldn’t be discussing this with you, but I know Liz is filling you somehow. It’s not a big deal. Your company will surely win this case. It’s nonsens
BASH I feel the instant coldness of the stainless door handle on my office as I push it open. As I enter, I feel a sudden unsettling in the pit of my stomach when a familiar flowery scent hits my nostrils. A gasp has my head snap, and my eyes are transfixed on the woman in front of me. Everything stops. My surrounding blurs. The beating of my heart races. My eyes widen in shock, and I am surprised that my jaw is still attached to my head. I’m not expecting to see her here in this building, let alone in my office. I wasn’t thinking about her when Dad told me to be nice to my assistant. What’s this supposed to mean? I shut my gaping mouth close and cough awkwardly. “Trinity.” Her name comes out a whisper, and it feels foreign in my ears. She blinks many times before she clears her throat. She smiles at me—a tight smile; just a plain smile; a forceful one. “Mr. Hughes, good Morning, and welcome to your new office,” she greets with
TRINITY My life sucks! Let me tell you a brief story of my life. To start, my name is supposed to be Kiera Trinity Mallory, but the registrar might have been cross-eyed or drunk. Now my name is officially registered as Kiara Trinity. Number one. I am the only child of Zoey and Logan Mallory. I always dream of having a sibling, but I didn’t get a chance to have either a brother or a sister. I felt jealous every time I saw my friends with their brothers. Two. I have frizzy red curly hair that looks like orange in the sun and like instant Chinese noodles. I always got bullied when I was a kid because of my hair. No matter how mom tried fixing it with a hundred hair clips, it wouldn’t just stick together. I got plenty of freckles all over my face. I’m sure you know how my face looks like. My eyes are maybe my best asset—they’re green like a tropical forest, but many girls have green eyes too. Dad loves me so
TRINITY “What am I doing?” I ask myself in the mirror. Last night I kept turning in bed for some reason that I didn’t even know. That was the first night that I didn’t think of Oli since he passed away. All I could think of was the gorgeous gray-eyed who ran away from his office and didn’t come back after the meeting. What’s his problem anyway? I play with my engagement ring on my finger while I’m humming the song on my phone. My officemates are already rushing to get in the cramming elevator. Some say hi, greet a good morning, and some think that I’m invisible. I know exactly what they talk about, so I keep my volume on my headset louder even it’s already deafening my ears. Enough thinking of Bash! You had all that last night! I’m sure he isn’t doing the same. I start my routine as soon as I get into my office. Still no signs of Bash. It’s almost nine in the morning when I check the time on my laptop.
BASH “Why didn’t you tell me that her fiancé died? I could have avoided asking her about him, Lizzy.” She sighs from the other line. I couldn’t sleep after what I just found out about her relationship. It breaks my heart to see her in such pain, and I can’t do anything to help her. “Bash, she needs you. She may laugh, jokes around, or pushes you away, but she suffered a lot losing her fiancé. She needs the Bash that she used to know. She needs her best friend,” Lizzy says softly, convincing me. “She doesn’t need me, Lizzy. You can’t push her on me if she doesn’t want me, and I can’t force what we had to be back to normal. All she needs is to accept her loss and move on. She has you as a friend.” The frown deepens on my forehead. Honestly, I don’t want to be just her friend anymore. I want to be wanted. I want to be someone she needs, not because she was my best friend. “You didn’t get it, Bash.” “Tell me t
BASH “Fuck!” Dad curses. I turn around quickly when I realize what they’re doing. Heat creeps in my cheeks with embarrassment. I can’t believe I’ve just witnessed what Dad and Mom are doing in his office. It isn’t easy to be in this awkward situation. I grip the door handle when I hear my mom giggle. “Bash, I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be doing it here,” Mom says, laughing. I stay still. “We’re not having sex, Bash. You can turn around now,” Dad says who finds everything is okay after their son just caught them almost having sex. I face them slowly just to make sure they are both dressed because when I entered moments ago, mom’s dress zipped down from her back, and dad’s shirt unbuttoned while they were making out on the desk. “Can’t you at least lock the door before you start eating each other’s face? Or at least tell me not to come?” I ask annoyingly and amused at the same time. I can’
TRINITY I felt insignificant. That’s what I felt earlier, but who am I to fight? When the head doesn’t want me, then so be it. I worked hard to be a part of the company, but my hardship and experience are all gone to waste. I guess I just don’t belong there. There’s a little regret on the part of my brain. If I only follow my passion as an artist or an architect, I won’t be here alone jobless in the middle of these graves. My heels dip in the soft green grass as I saunter toward Oli. I always came here when I missed him. Being with him, I find it comforting. I wrap my arms around myself when the wind blows my hair. I slow my pace when I’m a few steps closer to Oli. The flowers I placed on the granite plate last week are still here, and they start withering. Placing another grasp of white calla and stargazer, I set aside the old one. I wipe away the withered petals that fell on the plate. I trace my fingers where O