by Wilde, Ora
“Well, nothing to worry about,” I assured him with a smile.
He fell silent for a few seconds, twiddling his thumbs as if he was in deep thought.
“Nash is the father, right?” he finally spoke.
I just nodded. It was a subject I didn’t want to discuss. It was a subject I wasn’t prepared to discuss.
Again, there was a silence which was longer than the one that preceded it.
“He’s a good man,” Finn spoke. “Temperamental though. Moody too, so it seemed. Always angry. And he packed a mean punch.” He paused to chuckle. “But he’s a good man.”
“He is... was,” my correction made me sad once more.
“When you were abducted, I gave your house a call and he answered,” Finn continued. “He was so worried about you. He told me what to do. Call the police and proceed to the address he gave. Then, he told me something else... something that completely changed how I viewed him.”
“What did he tell you?” I asked rather impatiently, hungry for any information I could dig up about Nash.
“He told me to be careful,” Finn answered. “There he was, preparing to risk his life to save you... yet he found the time to tell me to be careful. Who wouldn’t respect a man like that?”
My heart was flooded with a semblance of joy and a serving of pain. Finn’s revelation made me proud of Nash, but it also made me feel very miserable as I was once again reminded that he was no longer with us.
“Your kid will be great!” Finn exclaimed. “I’m actually excited!”
“Thanks, Finn.”
“Just remember, Andrea...”
“What?”
“I’ll be the father...”
What the fuck?!
“W-What do you mean, Finn?” I asked him distressfully.
“The godfather!” he sniggered. “I wouldn’t settle for anything less. If you don’t get me as your child’s godfather on his... or her... christening, then forget that we ever knew each other, okay?”
“Okay, Finn,” I confirmed with a wide beam.
“Well then, it’s getting late and you, my dear, will need your rest,” he said as he stood up and started to walk towards the window. “Always take care of yourself, Andrea, and if you need anything... anything at all... just call the future godfather of your baby, alright?”
“If you say so, Finn,” I assured him as I got up from bed as well and escorted him towards the sill from where he came from.
He went out, balancing unsteadily on the edge once more. Then he turned back to look at me and smile.
“Good night!” he uttered before stepping into one of the loose bricks on the wall.
“Good night!” I answered back and turned towards the bed.
Then I heard him scream, and it was followed by a loud thud on the ground below.
I quickly dashed back towards the window and peeked, and my suspicion was confirmed. He lost his balance and fell some fifteen feet below. He was picking himself up when I saw him.
“I-I’m alright.... I’m alright,” he muttered. I didn’t know if he was convincing me or himself. He limped towards the back alley until he was embraced by the shadows, disappearing from my sight.
Much like Nash, whenever he left my room before.
I spent the rest of the evening thinking... about Nash, as usual... about my baby... about raising my child by myself. A lot of mothers do manage to rear their children perfectly well, a testament to their courage and strength. I just wished I could be one of them.
I actually fell asleep that night, which was a welcome change. But because slumber has been elusive the past week or so, I didn’t get to set my alarm clock.
I didn’t wake up to its usual ringing.
I woke up to the sound of my stepmother’s shriek.
Still groggy, I got up from bed and ran downstairs to check if everything was alright.
And I saw her, at the kitchen, in front of the microwave oven.
“Aunt Susan, what happened?” I asked with alarm.
She didn’t respond. Instead, she just pointed at the microwave.
I looked at it and it was on. It was making that low, humming sound, and the plate inside was spinning.
“Aunt Susan... it’s the microwave,” I said. “That made you yelp?”
“It’s... it’s... it’s working,” she said with shock.
“Yes, I can see that,” I told her. “It’s supposed to make that sound, and the food is supposed to spin inside, and the lights are supposed to be on.”
“No!” she bellowed. “I mean... it’s working!”
I looked at the oven again, and I remembered that the day before, it exploded. The fact that it was fixed again shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise, however, since it mustn’t have been broken in the first place.
“Aunt Susan, the oven blew up yesterday,” I began to explain. “But that’s because dad placed a metal plate inside. Maybe, it was just the plate that exploded, and the oven was left unharmed.”
“No!” Aunt Susan vehemently denied. “The oven was broken yesterday. The oven was still broken last night. I’m sure of that. I tried to turn it on, but it was just... dead...”
I knew what she was thinking, but it was impossible. I couldn’t blame her though. Being a mother, she’d cling to the tiniest of hopes - no matter how implausible it was - to see her son once again.”
I placed my arm around her shoulder and drew her head near my mouth. I gave her a soft kiss. It was the first tender act we shared. We were never expressive with each other, either verbally or physically. But at that time, I had to let her know that she was wrong, and it would be better for her to start moving on instead of holding on to an imagined desire.
But she would not be dissuaded.
“He was here!” she said, trying to curtail her exuberance. “Did you hear anything last night? This morning? Let’s check the floor for tracks!”
“Aunt Susan, I didn’t hear anything,” I reluctantly said as I didn’t want to spoil her joy. I wanted to tell her that he’s gone, but I couldn’t. The glee on her face, the life in her eyes... somehow, they made me happy too despite the impossibility behind them.
“He must’ve sneaked in,” she reasoned out. “He has always been good with that, you know? Slinking in and out of the house.”
Oh yes, I was very familiar with that.
“Well, tell me if something else comes up, alright?” I told her. I deemed it best to just leave her happy like that instead of bringing her back to the depressions of reality. “I have to prepare for school, but text me if you’ll discover something else, okay Aunt Susan?”
“I sure will,” she fervently replied. “Who knows, he might be waiting for you in your classroom.”
I gulped at that thought.
I went back upstairs to dress up for my classes. No one was forcing me to get back to school a little over a week after the incident, but I’ve missed a lot of days already. I was afraid my grades would suffer, something which I couldn’t afford considering that I have yet to choose a university to attend for college. Yes, I was accepted at UCLA, but I was having doubts about going there.
Actually... I was having doubts about going to college immediately after High School.
I was seriously considering foregoing college until I give birth. Still, the UCLA application doesn’t allow deferments for the next school year, and I needed good grades if I were to find another university that would accept me.
I almost cursed my worn-down car on the way to school. The shocks were really old, something I could tell with the way the vehicle clinked and clanked on the smallest of humps. The air-conditioning was busted, as it always was. And the damn window on the driver’s seat won’t open again...
Or so I thought.
As I repeatedly pressed the button of the window out of frustration, the glass suddenly moved. I pressed the button again, and it went all the way down. I pressed the other button and it went up. Its movement was smooth and quiet, as if it w
as brand new.
That has never happened before.
It must’ve been jammed. After I banged it with my fist that night of the Homecoming party, the wirings must’ve been messed up. And when I wildly pressed the buttons, the wirings may have... I dunno... joggled back into place.
That was the only reasonable explanation.
I mean... how else could the window have fixed itself?
As I arrived in school, everyone - and I do mean everyone - greeted me with smiles and hugs and even small kisses on the cheek. They asked me how I’ve been, how my family has been dealing with the tragedy that befell us, if I needed some help with catching up on the lessons I’ve missed... and how my pregnancy has been going. They asked me if the baby has started kicking inside. I told them it was too early for that. They asked me if my child was a boy or a girl. I told them that it was too early for that too. They asked me what name I’d give him or her. I told them I haven’t thought about it yet.
No one asked me who the father was.
I don’t think it was because they didn’t care.
I think it was because it didn’t matter. I was the one they knew. I was the one they went to school with. And I was the one they were concerned about.
After school, I decided to go to the gym and express my gratitude to the basketball team who went to Paydirt Drive that night just to ensure my safety, as well as the cheerleading squad who visited us during the wake and stayed there well into the night until it was time to go to school the next day.
Finn was there and he led me towards the team. I thanked them one by one. I may not know everyone by name, but their faces - filled with smiles and warmth - would forever be etched in my heart.
Thereafter, I went to the other side of the court where the cheerleading squad was practicing. Before I could say anything, three of them approached me and held my hand.
“Andrea, come quick!” one of them said. “We’ve got a new routine. Please watch it and tell us what you think, okay?”
“Uhm... I don’t think I’m a qualified critic for that kind of stuff,” I reminded her. I was the one who can’t even execute the most basic steps when I was a part of their team.
“Nonsense!” she replied. “You were one of us... and you still are. You know what we’re doing. Just watch us and tell us if it’s good or not.”
Waveringly, I agreed. They eagerly performed their number, with me as the solitary audience seated on a plastic chair in front of them. Their performance was good. It was really, really good... not just because of the complicated steps, but because there were some acrobatic stuff added in between their segments. I clapped my hands after they finished and they were genuinely happy that I liked it.
During their number, however, I noticed that Jaynie wasn’t around. Kyla was the one who led the girls during practice.
Kyla probably noticed the confusion plastered on my face. She approached me and said hello. At first, I was afraid that she’d deliver one of her cryptic messages again. But her smile at that moment was filled with honesty and compassion.
“Wondering where Jaynie is, huh?” she asked.
“Sort of...” was my dispassionate answer.
“She quit,” Kyla said.
“What? Why? When?” Her reply shocked me.
“The Monday after the Homecoming Dance,” she continued. “The Saturday when you... well... you know... that kidnapping thingie... everyone found out that Jaynie was responsible for the video that was played onstage. Martin ratted her out, as he saw her insert a USB drive on the video machine. I guess Jaynie wasn’t used to being scorned at. So she quit. Since then, she just arrives in time for class and leaves for home the moment the bell rings.”
“That’s... that’s so sad...” I uttered. Sure, Jaynie wronged me. But I didn’t think she deserved a hermit’s life, especially with how she fed off the attention from people.
Kyla patted me on the back.
“You’re a good kid, Andrea,” she remarked. “But sometimes, you gotta toughen up, more so with a baby on the way. You’re gonna be a mother soon. And mothers are supposed to be tough.”
I looked at her and smiled.
“So be tough, girl,” she added. “Toughness will get you places. Take it from a bitch like me.”
We giggled like little girls until she went back to practice.
I decided to stay there. I was so used to being alone that the presence of so many people actually became a welcome change for me. The basketball team were shouting and laughing during the scrimmages. The cheerleaders were snickering in between their sets. There was so much energy in the gymnasium.
So much life.
I needed that.
I needed to be reminded that I was still breathing... that I had to be happy and strong for the baby I was carrying in my womb.
Basketball practice ended and Finn as well as the other players left the court. Cheerleading practice followed suit, and the girls said their goodbyes and proceeded to the exit. I stayed on my chair. The gymnasium’s lights went out. The area became dark, but not totally black. Some of the spotlights were still on, providing a little bit of illumination to the place. Mr. Herbert probably saw that I was still there, and he left some lighting on until I would leave the gym.
Around ten minutes of sitting there all by myself, I finally stood up.
I don’t why, but I was compelled to look at the bleachers, particularly the uppermost row towards the left wall... the same spot where Nash used to spy on us... where Nash used to watch over me.
How was the view up there, I wondered?
What did he see?
What ran through his head as he observed our practices.
With slow steps, I went up the stands towards that very spot. I looked down and saw the court. It wasn’t really the best view in the house. The row was just too far from where the activities were held.
I walked towards the leftmost corner, where the shadows used to fall on his handsome face... his strong and rigid profile that gave him a rough kind of appeal that was enchanting and terrifying at the same time, his deep-set eyes that seemingly glowed with savage fire, the tender outline of his jaw that belied the coarseness of his demeanor, his thick black hair that tapered neatly to his collar.
Well, it wasn’t really the shadows that concealed most of his face, though. It was that damn hoodie... the one which he always wore... the one that I always wondered about whether he ever washed it or not.
A smirk formed on my face.
The joy of fond memories.
But as I approached the area where he once sat, the smirk vanished. It was replaced by shock... complete and utter shock... the kind that devoured the soul and made hearts thump in agitation and inquietude.
For on the seat where my brother, my lover and the father of my unborn child sat, I saw something that shouldn’t have been there.
A hoodie sweater.
Dark blue and dirty, with stains all over, crumpled on the surface of the bench.
His hoodie sweater.
28
Acceptance…
I arrived at Fiji’s Japanese Restaurant a little past seven in the evening. I drove straight to that place after I received a text from Aunt Susan, inviting me to have dinner with them.
Them.
That included my father, who I haven’t seen since yesterday morning when he walked out of our home after I revealed my pregnancy. I didn’t know if that dinner was arranged by my stepmother who wanted us to patch things up, or by my dad who wanted an opportunity to tell me how disappointing a daughter I was to him.
Quite frankly, I didn’t give either possibilities much thought.
My mind was still preoccupied by what I saw in the bleachers.
How could his hoodie be there? Was it even right to hope for the best... that somehow, someway... Nash was alive and he left his sweater there as a proof of life? Or would that be a crazy thought? We buried Nash. He’s gone. I saw him get shot. I saw him swallowed and taken away by the ramp
aging currents.
Maybe he just left his hoodie there from way, way back. Maybe, more than a week and a half ago, he dropped by to see if I was still practicing with the squad, laid his sweater on the bench and forgot about it. Yes, yes... that was probably it.
