As I stomped my way back to the gate, rumbling words and wishing the worst possible things upon the stranger who had crossed my path, I couldn't help but feel like I had strayed from my usual demeanor. But encountering that guy had put me in a sour mood.
"Kid? Kid? Who does he think he is?"
Just as I was about to enter the gate, a familiar voice spoke behind me, causing me to pause for a moment to process who it might be.
"Well, you don't look like you're having a good day."
My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the voice. It was overly familiar, and it stopped me dead in my tracks. I turned around swiftly and practically ran over to where she was standing.
"Lizzy!" I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around her so tightly I was sure she found it hard to breathe.
"Woah, Woah, Woah... you big piece of bear..." Lizzy chuckled, complaining about my tight embrace. But she knew she couldn't blame me. We hadn't seen each other in months.
After I finally pulled away from her, my mouth ran with questions. "Since when did you come back? How was UNI? Gosh, you're glowing!" We hugged again, squealing in excitement.
'Lizzy', Elizabeth Jorgensen, my cousin from my father's side, born from his younger brother, Uncle Tom. We share the same mix of ethnicity and from my father's side, it was only my father and her father who bore kids, making us practically sisters since we grew up so close. Lizzy was a lot older than me, already in college while I was still in high school.
Lizzy's father had chosen a different path from my own, and my father had never been able to reconcile his brother's decision. Instead of joining our family's organization, Lizzy's dad became a real estate agent, which my father considered beneath him. He discouraged Lizzy's dad from pursuing such a career, but it provided enough for their family, including sending Lizzy to the Philippines to finish her college degree and learn more about our Grams' culture. Lizzy had fallen in love with our heritage, and it was obvious to everyone around her.
I never agreed with how my father looked down on Lizzy's family simply because they chose a different path. He never liked me spending time with Lizzy, fearing she would "influence" me, but I didn't want to be part of the Legacy anyway. I was born into it, not because I chose it. Despite my father's efforts to bring his brother into the organization, he just wanted to prove that he was better at making decisions than Uncle Tom.
But my father had no right to treat them with such disdain and forbid me from hanging out with Lizzy. My mother and I both appreciated Lizzy's company too much to let my father's issues with his younger brother get in the way.
"I shouldn't even be here right now, you know... University sucks, and even in the summer, it's not easy to come home," Lizzy said, shaking her head.
I chuckled at her familiar humor. Lizzy had always been the funny one between the two of us, always cracking jokes to lighten up the mood.
"You haven't changed a bit," I said, grinning as I spread my arms wide.
Just then, my mother's voice interrupted us from inside the gate. "Jade? Who's there?" she called out, curious.
As she stepped outside and caught sight of Lizzy, a broad smile lit up her face. "Elizabeth! It's so good to see you," she exclaimed, opening her arms for a hug.
Lizzy returned the embrace, and they both laughed as my mom made a lighthearted joke. "I knew it was you the moment I heard that noise," she teased.
"Sweetie, when did you get back?" my mother's voice carried through the air as she approached Lizzy.
"I just got in last night, Aunt Carol. I wanted to drop by, but the jet lag had me beat." Lizzy's voice was apologetic.
"And where are you staying? Aren't you heading home to California?" my mother asked.
"I booked a hotel room. You know we can't stay with you guys, Uncle Gerard wouldn't have it," Lizzy joked, but we all knew it was true. While I wished she could stay with us, I didn't want to cause any trouble with my father. But we could still hang out while she was here.
My mother gave her a sympathetic look, but Lizzy waved it off, saying she understood where my father was coming from. But I didn't think that gave my father the right to look down on Lizzy's family.
"I'll be here for a few days, trying to cheer up this sulky little bear," she gestured to me, and we both laughed. "Then I'll be heading back home to California for the rest of the summer."
It was heartwarming to see how close Lizzy was to my mother, almost like another daughter. I watched as they held hands and chatted like old friends, and it made me smile.
I observed their lively conversation, admiring the bond between them. My mother eventually suggested that Lizzy stay for dinner since her visit was brief and she would soon return to college.
As we settled into the backseat of the car, I seized the opportunity to ask her about her time in the Philippines.
"So, how was it to stay in the Philippines?" I inquired.
Lizzy let out a dramatic, satisfied sigh and tossed her hair, exclaiming, "Hah! Sobrang magin-hawa!"
We all laughed at her attempt to mimic our grandmother's Tagalog accent.
"You still love that, huh?" I teased.
"Hey, we both have that blood running in our veins, so there's nothing wrong with speaking like a Filipina. I'm still not that good at it," she replied, and we laughed once more.
I was astonished to hear how fluent she was in speaking our grandmother's language.
"Oh, my god! You're actually good at it!" I exclaimed, surprised.
She shrugged, mouthing "I know" at me.
Mom spoke from the driver's seat without taking her eyes off the road.
"Why don't you try speaking it, Jade? I've heard you speak Tagalog before."
"No, no, no, no, no... I'm not doing it for you guys. I don't even remember which word is which..." I protested, shaking my head.
"Oh, come on. You were better at it than me when we were young," Lizzy interjected, insisting that I give it a try.
"That was when we were younger, Lizzy. Now, I can't even remember the words," I explained, shrugging my shoulders.
Lizzy looked at me skeptically, not buying my excuse.
"You're such a terrible liar," she teased, furrowing her eyebrows and crossing her arms.
"I'm telling you na-kali-mutan... ako... I mean... ko na ang... mag-Sali... hmmm... Sali-ta ng tagalog (I've already forgotten how to speak Tagalog)," I stuttered, struggling to form a sentence in the language I once knew so well.
Everyone in the car burst out laughing at my comical attempt to speak the language of our grandmother.
"I guess I'm just not into speaking Tagalog anymore," I declared, joining in on the laughter for the rest of the ride.
*****
As dinner ended, it was time for Lizzy to leave, and I couldn't be happier to have spent even just a short time with her. It might be months or even a year before I see her again, but tonight was nice.
She stood at the gate, her driver waiting inside the car that picked her up.
"Jade, I'm sorry I wasn't there for Gramps' funeral," she said, taking hold of my hands. The mention of my grandfather's name made my chest tighten, and my expression must have shown it.
"Don't worry about it," I replied, looking at her.
"To make it up to you, I left flowers for Gramps before I came here."
"You did?" I said, feeling somewhat relieved. I knew school wouldn't have allowed her to attend the funeral, but it still meant a lot to me that she found a way to show her love and respect for our grandfather.
"It's fine. Gramps would have loved the flowers," I said, trying to smile.
"Don't worry, they were the prettiest ones I could find. Just like me," she said, playfully winking at me. I groaned, pushing her lightly towards the gate.
"Go on, get out of here," I said, and we both laughed before saying our final goodbyes, and she drove off into the night.
As I entered the house, my thoughts drifted to the encounter with the guy from the store who vandalized my grandfather's walls. For a moment, I almost forgot about him.
But as I made my way to my room, a plan began to form in my mind - one that didn't involve my mom. This was just between me and that jerk.
Instead of going straight to my room, I headed outside to the garage. I couldn't believe I still had to pass by the pool to get there. The house was too big for just the three or four people who lived in it.
Pushing the thought aside, I fumbled for the light switch and the dim light illuminated the garage. I knew this was where mom stored the remaining things we hadn't used for the day's activity. And I was sure I had seen her grab a can of white paint at the store, which was exactly what I was looking for.
I rummaged through everything in the garage, trying to make as little noise as possible to avoid drawing attention from Glenda and mom. After a few minutes, I found the can of paint and laughed devilishly in my mind as I thought about how to use it.
Should I go back to Gramps' house tomorrow and paint over the vandalism myself? Or should I find the guy and make him clean up his mess? Or better yet, pour the entire can of paint in his face?
I was almost tempted by the last option, but I knew that wasn't what my grandfather would want me to do. It wasn't his way of doing things, and I needed to honor his memory.
I ultimately opted for my initial plan.
I set the can of paint aside and searched for a matching paint roller. After finding one, I left the garage closed and made my way back inside the house. I managed to enter my room without any interference from my mom or Glenda.
*****
(Next Day)
I struggled to pull my short hair back into a ponytail, regretting the decision to chop it off. Eventually, I gave up and opted for a bandana, tying it behind my head to keep my hair out of my face. As I made my way downstairs, my mom took notice of my appearance.
"Jade, you look nice. Are you going somewhere, sweetie?" She sat on the couch, sipping her tea, already dressed up for the day. I found it strange that my parents would always choose to wear their most elegant outfits, even when they were just staying at home.
"I'm actually on my way to Gramps' house. Is that okay with you?" I tried to sound innocent, masking my true intentions.
My mom smiled and didn't hesitate to give me permission. "Of course, you can go. Do you need the car? The keys are in my room, I'll have Glenda get them for you."
I shook my head. "No, Mom. I prefer to walk. I haven't been getting enough exercise lately, and I'm not really fond of driving anyway."
She smiled again, pleased to see me stepping out of my shell. It made me happy to see her smile.
"Okay then, be careful out there, honey," my mom smiled at me one last time before I kissed her on the cheek and headed towards the door. I checked my appearance in the mirror and took a deep breath before stepping outside.
I couldn't believe I was walking all the way to my Gramps' house with a huge can of paint in one hand and a roller in the other, a strap hanging from my left shoulder holding my water jug.
Despite the sunny weather, I couldn't escape the sweat pouring down my face, and by the time I arrived at Gramps' house, I was completely drenched and exhausted.
Just in time, Chandler appeared outside the gate, absorbed in his phone. He heard the clanking of the paint roller handle and looked up at me.
"Jade, right? Mrs. Jorgensen's daughter," he said, putting his phone in his pocket and extending his hand. But then he noticed my hands were full and quickly pulled his hand back. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize your hands were occupied. Let me help you."
Chandler took the can from me and placed it inside the gate. I thanked him for his kindness.
"You painting or something?" he asked as he turned to face me.
"Yeah, actually. I caught a guy vandalizing the wall yesterday. How did you not see him?" I replied, trying my best to hide my annoyance.
Realization dawned on Chandler's face, and he started scratching the back of his head. "I'm really sorry, ma'am. I had to take a call yesterday and didn't get the chance to let you guys know that I was leaving. Let me paint it for you," he offered.
It was a weak excuse, but I decided to let it slide. However, I couldn't accept his offer. "No, it's fine. I can do the painting myself. Just don't let it happen again, okay? And please, call me Jade." I dismissed myself and grabbed the paint can to take it inside the house.
He awkwardly nodded his head in response.
As I made my way inside Gramps' house, I spotted a couple of mixing bowls on the side of the road. I scooped them up, knowing they would be useful for the paint job ahead.
Arriving at the scene of the vandalism, I felt my chest tighten with anger once again. The culprit's smirking face flashed in my mind, making me want to hurl the paint roller at him if I ever saw him again.
But I had a task to complete, and I couldn't let my emotions get in the way. I shook off the thought of the jerk and focused on the wall in front of me. With each roll of the paint, the vandalism slowly disappeared from view, and a sense of satisfaction washed over me.
******
As summer draws to a close, I can't help but feel a sense of dread as the start of the school year approaches. While everyone else is excited to show off their tanned skin and catch up with friends, I'm still trying to recover from the events of the past few months.
My mom is eager for me to go back to school, but I'm not sure if I'm ready. Will I be able to handle being around so many people again? Will I be able to focus on my studies or will my mind constantly drift to the past?
Despite my doubts, I try to convince myself that maybe school will be a good distraction. Maybe it will help me move on from what happened and find some sense of normalcy again.
But even the thought of school can't completely distract me from the encounter I had with that shameless man at Gramps' house. His infuriating smirk is etched into my mind and it's enough to ruin my whole day.
Now, as I sit in the kitchen waiting for my mom to make me tea, I try to occupy my mind with anything else. I tap my fingers on the counter, thinking of ways to keep my mind busy and distracted from the memories that still haunt me.
She interrupted my thoughts with a gentle question, "When do you want to visit your Gramps' house again, sweetie?" I scrunched my nose, unsure of how to respond. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but I couldn't bring myself to pretend that everything was okay.
"I'm not sure, mom," I finally replied, avoiding eye contact.
"Maybe it would be good for you to go out once in a while," she suggested. "I could call Lizzy to accompany you."
I shook my head. "For what, mom? You know how it always ends up."
She reminded me of the times when I had been more adventurous, but I couldn't help feeling like those days were gone forever. "I just don't see myself getting out to have some sort of adventure because I know it won't be the same as before," I explained.
"Don't you want to discover new things?" she asked, her voice hopeful.
"I did when Gramps was with me," I replied honestly. "He made every adventure easier and more fun to learn. But now that he's gone, what else is there to discover?"
I caught a glimpse of my mother's face from the corner of my eye and saw how her expression fell. I didn't mean to hurt her, but I needed her to understand.
My mom stirred her cup of tea in silence for a while before she spoke softly, "Have you considered discovering things on your own, Jade?" Her lips curved into a slight smile.
Her smile was infectious, and I found myself smiling in response. I wondered why her smile always had that effect on me.
"Gramps wouldn't want to see you lingering on your sorrow," she continued. "He would want you to soar high and reach for the stars."
Her words hit me like lightning bolts, awakening me to the reality that I needed to make a change. My mind began to shift its ways of understanding and contemplating things.
Part of me was afraid to let my guard down, but I knew deep down that my mother had my best interests at heart. She only wanted what was best for me.
As I finished the last sip of my tea, I looked up at her and said, "Can I borrow your car?" Her smile widened, and I felt a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long while.
*****
I took one last turn and followed the path to the back of my Gramps' house, parking my mom's car out of sight from the front gate. A small walk to the front would do me good, I thought to myself.
As I stepped out of the car, a tidal wave of nostalgia hit me like a ton of bricks. The sidewalk, the tall trees, this was where my Gramps and I used to take our morning walks and runs until our legs were sore and we were laughing too hard to care.
I blinked back tears as I tried to hold it together. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I began walking towards the front gate of Gramps' house, passing the walls that had seen better days. Green vines climbed up the walls, a sign of how long it had been since anyone had taken care of the place.
But then, as I approached the gate, I froze. Last week, I had fought tooth and nail to get a glimpse of what lay beyond it. Now, as I saw what was right in front of me, my heart raced and my mind was at war with itself. Should I scream? Laugh? Cry? Smile? I had no idea what to do.
I couldn't believe what stood before me. The once pristine white wall that I had painted to cover up the ugly graffiti had transformed into a mesmerizing work of art. Swirling colors and intricate patterns blended together in perfect harmony, covering almost a third of the surrounding walls.
As I continued to gaze at the artwork, I began to notice something in the center of the swirling colors and intricate patterns. It was a rose, abstractly painted with hues of red, pink, and orange. The delicate petals and thorny stem seemed to dance and sway with the movement of the surrounding designs.
I couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the artist's skill in creating such a beautiful and unique interpretation of a rose. It was as if they had captured the essence of the flower and translated it into a mesmerizing display of color and form.
My heart sank as I realized that the artist behind this creation is the one I had been wishing nothing but bad upon. But at the same time, I couldn't help but feel a sense of respect and awe for their bravery in transforming a dull and vandalized wall into a work of art that spoke to the soul.
"Chandler?" My voice wavered, sounding more like a plea than a yell.
Silence answered me, except for the sound of my own breathing and the beating of my heart. I tore my eyes away from the mesmerizing art, scanning my surroundings for any sign of my friend.
"Chandler, where are you?" I called out again, my voice echoing off the walls.
No response.
My eyes flickered back to the colorful wall, taking in every detail once again, when a voice spoke up from behind me, laced with pure cockiness.
"Do you still want to sue me?" My heart stopped as I realized that the voice did not belong to Chandler.
I felt my patience wearing thin as his voice sounded behind me. It was the guy I had been avoiding, and I could already feel my annoyance rising to the surface."The last thing I remember, I was calling out for Chandler," I snapped, refusing to turn around and face him.I heard him chuckle, but it did little to diffuse my irritation. I wasn't in the mood for another argument, and I wasn't going to let him get the best of me this time."Chandler's not here, so you'll have to deal with me," he continued, his tone laced with smugness.I finally spun around to face him, ready to leave the scene. "My parents taught me not to talk to strangers," I shot back, my eyes involuntarily drawn to the tattoos on his arms that were so far beyond my control.As I looked at him, I noticed that he wasn't wearing the same coat he had on the first time we met. Instead, he wore a plain white shirt that revealed his arms, which were covered in tattoos of different shapes and figures. "Especially to those wh
I waited anxiously, anticipating the door to burst open and expose Jared and me. However, the darkness continued to envelop us in the small space of the closet, and the door remained firmly shut. I wondered what was going on. My father was still attempting to twist the doorknob, but it refused to move, just like earlier when I had tried to open it. I could hear my dad groaning in frustration, and I knew that we had bought ourselves some time. I moved away from the door, and Jared followed suit, his back pressed against the wall. His voice was barely audible when he whispered into my ear, "Whoa, slow down there." His words sent shivers down my spine, and I suddenly realized that my hands had instinctively grabbed onto the front of his shirt, pulling us closer together. I hadn't meant to do that, but the situation had escalated so quickly. However, our closeness became the least of my concerns when I heard my father's voice coming through the door. "This doorknob has been used enough
As I parked the car at the curb, my mom was waiting for me at the door of our house. Jared and I had gone our separate ways the moment we stepped out of my Gramps' gate. I couldn't even bring myself to speak to him, let alone look at him. I just went the other way and never looked back, still confused about the way I acted in the closet. But why does it matter? Jared is probably just some random guy looking for girls to trap in his net and release them afterwards. I'm still feeling guilty for my actions. This is so not me. What if my Gramps were still alive and saw me acting this way? What would he think of me? I'd be disappointing him big time. As I looked to my side, I saw my father's car parked. That's another thing...my father is home now. Opening the car door, I locked eyes with my mother, who was still waiting for me on the porch. She sent me a sympathetic smile, which I returned, but awkwardly. "Your dad is waiting for you inside," she announced as I made my way to her.
I turn each page, captivated by the diverse array of drawings all crafted by Jared.His skill in depicting the exposed forms of these women, who bared themselves exclusively for his artistic vision, is truly remarkable... although the notion of him having glimpsed the nakedness of multiple women does leave a disconcerting impression.My thoughts were drawn back to the moment he mentioned starting this collection of works when he was just 18. I couldn't help but notice the stack of albums resting on the chair beside us, and a curious thought emerged in my mind. I decided to voice my question, driven purely by my inquisitiveness."How old are you, anyway?" I asked, catching him off guard with the unexpected inquiry. His gaze shifted towards me, his expression betraying his surprise at the question.His arm rested on the back of the couch, hovering close to my shoulder. He composed himself, offering a slight shrug in response."I was 18 seven years ago... you can do the math," he replied
Jared finished organizing his table while I awkwardly began picking up the fallen albums from the floor."You can just leave those there. I'll take care of them later," he offered, gesturing towards the albums still scattered on the floor.I nodded in response, not wanting to risk stumbling over my words."Would you like to join the others out there?" he suggested, causing me to turn my head and face him.The idea didn't sound too bad. After all, I had come here to unwind, and meeting new people might not be such a bad idea."That sounds nice," I replied, my voice barely audible.Jared pulled the curtain aside and stepped out of the room, and I followed suit. As I emerged, the first person I laid eyes on was Natalie, the blonde girl.I still couldn't quite comprehend why her eyes had such an intense effect on me. While others might describe them as having a gentle hue, if you were to gaze into them directly, you would discover a profound depth, much like Jared's.Jared and I garnered
The mere thought of losing someone so dear was once an absurd concept to me, something I couldn't quite fathom. But now, now that I have experienced it, I understand the depth of the pain that comes with it.It was the day my grandfather passed away that my world was turned upside down. He was my confidante, my mentor, my friend. He was the only one who ever truly understood me, who always knew how to make me feel better. His death was like a dagger to my heart, and the wound never truly healed.Every day is a struggle, a constant battle to keep myself together. I can't even begin to imagine the person I would be if I lost someone else. The mere thought of it makes me shudder.I rarely leave my room, and when I do, it's only to go through the motions of life. I barely speak to anyone, and the laughter that once came so easily is now a distant memory. I can't even bring myself to visit my grandparents' house, the place that held so many happy memories.I am different now, a shadow of t
2015I always used to look forward to summer, the warmth of the sun on my skin and the endless possibilities that came with it. But now, here I am, lying on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The weight of grief is suffocating, and I can't seem to shake it off.My Gramps, my father's father, was my rock. He was the one who taught me how to ride a bike, and how to make the perfect grilled cheese sandwich. He was my confidant, the one I could always turn to when life got too overwhelming. But now, he's gone, and my world has turned upside down.The ends of my hair tickle the sides of my neck, a constant reminder of the drastic decision I made in the throes of grief - cutting off my long locks without a second thought. It was an impulsive move, but somehow it felt right. Grief has a way of making us act without thinking, as long as it matches the pain we feel inside.My grandfather's death was sudden and unexpected, and it's left me feeling empty and lost. For months, I've been trap
I slowly descended the stairs, taking in every word my mom said, and the weight of her voice seemed to grow heavier with every passing moment. My heart sank at the mention of my grandparent's house. The thought of it being in a state of disrepair filled me with an overwhelming sense of sadness. "What do you mean?" I asked, hoping that maybe it wasn't as bad as she made it seem. "I mean, the house has been neglected for a while now. There are cracks in the walls, the roof is leaking, and some of the windows are broken. I didn't want to tell you before, but I think you need to see it for yourself." I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. The thought of my grandparent's home falling apart was almost too much to bear. It was the one place where I always felt safe and loved, and now it was in shambles. I almost want to go immediately, but a sharp pain slices through my chest like a knife, and suddenly I'm flooded with questions. Am I really ready for this? Can I handle facing the