I gathered my things; my backpack, an empty glass jar, and my favourite black pair of boots. I put them on and headed out. I stopped at the front door, hesitating on whether I should take my umbrella along. After seconds of looking at the transparent tool, I had decided otherwise and left without it, heading straight into the falling drops of rain as I made my way up the road to the top of the hill.
As I reached the top of the hill, I started to feel lighter on my feet. I made my way to my usual spot with the fallen tree trunk and dropped my backpack onto the muddy ground. I dug into it and took out the empty glass jar, lid off. The sound of rain drops hitting the clear base of the glass echoed into the air and caused a sequence of repetitive 'clinks' and 'clanks'. It was like a mini orchestra that only exist with the rain clouds, accompanied by an empty glass jar.
My name is Alem, and I am a rainkeeper.
That is what I like to call myself anyway.
I sat on the muddy grass and leaned back onto the tree trunk, as I watched the glass jar slowly fill up with droplets of glowing green rain. I watched how they come together into the jar and dance with each other as waves were created each time another drop joins them. It was not long before the jar was filled to the brim, and I tightened the lid back on. I picked up the jar, and as my finger tips touched it, a tingling sensation came about. Even when the jar was sealed, the water in it was still dancing.
'Nothing can stop you from doing whatever you want.'
I sat in the rain for the rest of the morning. When it was settling down, I got up and headed my way back home.
I took the glowing jar out of my backpack. It was still tingling under my skin, as I brought it into my room. At the far right of my room, there was another door - and behind that door was a room filled with many other glass jars such as this one.
'9.47am; Will,' I scribbled onto a piece of note and taped it to the side of the jar.
Then, on it went onto the shelf with glass jars of different shades of green, the others being different shades of red, orange, purple, etc. One from each time it rained, each representing the 'feelings of the weather'.
I am the rainkeeper, and this is my job.
---
It is raining.
It was late at night, but I still got out of bed anyway. I grabbed my backpack and put on my coat, before leaving the house, unsheltered by an umbrella. It was quite heavy, the rain - almost like a storm but not really. I was not scared though. How can I ever be scared of the rain? I am the rainkeeper.
I made my way up the hill in the dark, getting soaked from head to toe in the process. When I reached the top - greeted by the sight of the fallen tree trunk - I took out an empty glass jar and set it onto the puddled grass. I leaned back onto the tree trunk and looked up at the sky. It was an amazing sight that I would never get tired of. If only a pictures could be taken, then I'd have it framed up on the wall in my room. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sound of the rain.
I had apparently fallen asleep, as I was woken up by the sudden stop of rain drops hitting my face. I opened my eyes and saw an umbrella above my head, followed by the rolling eyes of my best friend, Mac and a bright light from his flashlight.
"I knew you'd be here," he said as he rolled his eyes for the second time. I looked down and back to my now three quarter filled glass jar. It glowed a bright turquoise. Mac sat down next to me, umbrella in between us.
"Here," he said, handing me a flask. I opened it and steam flew into my face. It was hot chocolate.
"Why are you here at this hour?" I asked. This was his first time ever to accompany me in the rain. He would usually leave me when it started to rain and called me 'Craylem' because he thought I was crazy to be out in the rain to collect its drops.
"I couldn't sleep, and it was raining. I knew you'd be crazy and do this weird rain collecting again. What do you do with this much rain water anyway?" Mac took the flask from my hands and poured me a cup of chocolate. He handed it over to me.
"Nothing," I answered, as I reached out for the warm cup. "I just keep them. It's pretty."
Mac looked at me weird, and then up to the sky. "But it's dark, and grey. It's so depressing," he voiced, before sneezing. "Aren't you cold? The jar's full now, hurry up. We need to get you home and dried before you get sick again like before.
I looked up at the glowing bright sky above us as I took my last sip of the hot chocolate. "It may be grey to you, but in my eyes, it's like the Northern lights," I said and stood up, and Mac followed with the umbrella as I stepped ahead to lid the jar. I picked it up. "Oh," I whispered when the usual tingling wasn't present. The jar felt warm - almost hot - like the hot chocolate Mac brought. The water in it was a calm turquoise and it glowed brightly. It was especially comforting to the touch.
"What?" Mac shone his annoying torch light at the jar, "What did you say about the Northern lights - and hey, why's your face like that? Are you amazed that the water is so clear or something? Okay wow clean water, should we boil it and drink it?" he asked mockingly. I kicked him and handed the jar to him, as well as snatching the umbrella away from his hands. I grabbed my backpack and walked ahead.
"Hey!" Mac called from behind, "Give that back, I'm getting soaked! And take this jar with you, it's like I'm holding iced water in the rain - HEY."
I stopped and laughed to myself, as I watch him half run half skip in the rain, towards me. I took the glass jar back when he reached and held it tight in my arms. I smiled as the jar warmed my hands.
'Doing whatever it takes for someone or something you cherish.'
Back home, we washed up and each got into a fresh pair of clothing - all the while complaining about how I dedicate my sleeping time to getting soaked in the rain in order to collect a jar of it. Eventually, Mac decided to stay over by falling asleep on the couch.
While so, I taped a note onto the side of the night's jar of rain, before setting it onto the shelf.
'2:44am; Mac's first night out in the rain. Loyalty.'
---
It is not raining.
It is an obvious fact that the rain does not come every day. On days like these, I would rather stay home and read a book, than to go out into the dry empty grey space. It is not that I dislike the outdoors, but if I were to go out to enjoy myself, why so when you can't do what you enjoy doing best?
Even indoors, I would always end up in the room where I keep my collected rain, the "Jar Room".
I entered the Jar Room and walked pass the two shelves by my sides, fingers tapping at each jar I pass. Courage, faith, motivation, hesitation, and so on. The feelings of the weather each time it rained, I have collected over the years- sometimes having more than one of the same kind. What's amazing is how each jar of raindrops have its own characteristic and feelings. Some had drops that danced, some swirled in patterns, some stayed stagnant, some moving in a calm motion, some warm, some ice cold, but all of them glow according to their own brightness.
The Jar Room is something I take pride in and it makes me happy. I arrange them according to the shades of colours they glow and have labels on them. However, even if I have arranged them in colours, if I were to stand by the entrance of the room to look in, a rainbow they would not see but instead a room filled with moving lights of sorts as it makes the room glow.
It is a sight of which I wished Mac and everyone else could or would see. I often take photos to show him, but I always end up not showing any of them anyway.
As I stood at the back end of the room, I took out my phone and snapped a picture of the room. The picture was displayed onto the screen and what could be seen was not the beauty of lights before me, but simply a room with water filled glass jars.
It is apparent that I am probably the only one who is able to witness this sight. I have once given Mac a small jar for his birthday. It was a light glowing red and had a mini tornado spinning in it, but all he saw was simply a jar of water. I'm just glad he still keeps it, eventhough it probably means nothing at all to him. I appreciate how he's the only one who understands how much I love the rain.
I took one last look into the Jar Room before closing the door shut.
'What is dull to someone else, can be beauty in my eyes.'
---
It is raining, and Mac won't let me out of his house.
I eye my backpack, which was placed beside the front door. I can almost hear the soundless cries of my glass jar in it. I had also brought along a few other jars, because I'm running out of jars and it's about time I empty them.
I look up at Mac, who was busy talking about his girlfriend, and complaining about how she keeps threatening to break up with him if he doesn't throw away his gameboy. "I mean," Mac says as he throws his hand in the air, "how can she even say that? I need my gameboy, it is my life!"
"Can I go?" I ask.
"NO, stay," he answers immediately, "She should know by now how important it is to me. It was a present from-"
"Me," I cut in.
"Exactly! You are my best bud, my man, my brother, and it's definitely a treasure to keep. How can she do this to me?" Mac flings his arms everywhere, "What gave her the- HEY!"
I grabbed my backpack and exited the house before he could finish talking. It was raining and I need to get out. I walked into the rain without any form of shelter and made my way to the top of the hill. Since I came from Mac's house, it would take a little longer to reach there. "Are you crazy?! ALEM!" I could hear Mac calling through the rain.
I guess he was right, I might be little crazy, but he doesn't see what I see, and what I see is a glowing sky of colours.
By the time I had gotten to the top of the hill, it was still raining. I sighed in relief and unzipped my backpack, to take out the jars I had within. An empty one, and three others which were already filled from times before. I set the empty one aside, lid still on, and arranged the remaining three jars in a line. The rainwater in them were already defying gravity, ready to go. Another amazing thing about the collected rain, besides setting my room aglow, is that it goes back up into the sky whenever it rains.
I quickly removed the lids of the three jars, and stepped back to watch.
"Woah," someone said. I turned my left and found Mac standing there with his umbrella in hand, jaw hung. I looked back to the three jars. The first jar that had a calm green was swirling its way out of the jar, while the second one was a bright yellow that I had collected during a lighting storm and it was zooming its way out of the jar and around the green. The last jar was a jumpy purple.
Mac had made his way next to me, "DUDE. Is this for real?" he asked.
I looked up at him, confused, "Mac, you can see this?"
"Is this what you've been doing with the rain all this while? This is awesome!" he said, slightly hysterical. The rainwater from the three jars were swirling around each other and in a split second, shot up into the clouds above. I quickly twisted the lid of the empty glass jar open and within minutes, it was filled.
Someone hit me, it was Mac. "What is happening? What is this, what am I seeing? Alem?" he kept asking the same questions over and over again. I would answer them, but I didn't know how. I didn't understand how he could see it, either.
The jar was a light red. I put on the lid, and something I have never witnessed before happened. Half of the collected rain had disappeared and suddenly it was raining inside the jar.
"Wow," I whispered.
I picked the jar up and I could feel the rain fall in the jar. I could feel the 'thumps' each raindrop made in the jar, and due to that, the jar slightly vibrated in my hands.
"Family means nobody gets left behind, or forgotten."
I looked at Mac, smiling. He made a weird face and said, "What? What's wrong with your face? Don't look at me like that." -
That night, at his house, as I explained everything to him. He didn't believe it at first, but at the same time, he did. "Craylem, this is crazy," he said, still in disbelief- but I knew he liked it. He was smiling and I could see that he was itching with excitement.
We stayed up all night talking about the rain, and about how he wants to start collecting rain too.
The jar of red rain was set on the table, between us as we talked, and on it was a note stuck on;
'Family,' it said.
My name is Alem, and I am a rainkeeper. I collect the rain, it is my job. It is not weird, but an amazing thing to do. The rain is an amazing thing.
I slipped the thin strap into a buckle of the shoe around my
ankle, looking up at the man in front of me. He had black slacks on, a blue
shirt and a black coat over it. His tie was undone under the collar of his
shirt. He looked outside to see if anyone was around. I stood up, pulling my
pale red dress down to remove any wrinkles. I looked myself in the mirror by
the door while stabilizing myself on the three inch heels and checked out my
hair. The sun from outside highlighted it a burning fire. My pale skin was
smooth, my cheeks brushed pink and my lips were coloured a somewhat pinkish
red. The thin strap of my dress revealed an obvious collarbone - what I get
after bulimia. The scar on my shoulder blade where my father placed the end of
a burning cigarette butt was just as obvious.
I looked at the man near the door. He was
staring at me, his eyes an unreadable black. His nose was slightly bent, his
lips not too thin but not too thick. I wish he would smile more often, but the
only times I've seen him smile is when I refuse his offerings of a smoke. He
was good looking, but he looked even better when he smiles. His black hair was
slightly unruly, so I went to him to comb it back a bit with my fingers. He
didn't move, his eyes locked on me.
"You feeling okay?" he asked.
"I'll be fine."
"If you need me-"
"You'll be here. Four till ten. Got
it."
He let out a sigh. I hadn't known this man
for more than two months but I like him more than anyone else I've known my
entire life. He listens. He doesn't say anything, which I won't say is the only
thing I need, but it's comforting at times. When I don't seek advice but a
listening ear, I come here. Things go further but we don't discuss it.
I don't know what he does for a living,
but he has to have a job to afford a place like this and such nice clothes. The
house isn't the fanciest I've seen, but it was considerably big for a stop-by
place. I know I had never lived in such a building. Double storey, three
bedrooms and two bathrooms, a working stove and a six foot fridge.
I never asked what he does. By the looks
of it I probably shouldn't, because I saw him load his gun once before slipping
it into his suitcase when he thought I wasn't looking. It was dark, and I heard
clicking in the cold air. I turned around in the white sheets, keeping my eyes
closed. There was a pause, but when I heard him opening the zip I peeked
through my eyelids. He kept the bag under the bedside table and went back to
bed. His cheeks had a glinting line, what I thought looked like a tear stain.
He stared at the ceiling and whispered to himself, "I can't do this."
I have no idea what I'm doing; being here
with him almost every night, leaving behind my own house, my family. They don't
know. They best not know. They have marriage planned for me.
"Do you have a life?" I asked
him once. I was wearing only his shirt while getting myself a glass of O.J. He
was sitting in a sofa in front of the TV, flipping through the channels,
uninterested, clothed with a white t-shirt and shorts.
"It depends on your definition of
life," he replied, landing on the news. "I got things figured out,
but it's not exactly what I'd call living."
"So you're settled in?" I asked,
walking towards him.
"I guess you can say that." I
sat next to him, folding my legs on the seat and resting my head on his
shoulder. The cold skin of my thighs touch my calves, making me shiver.
"Why? You're not?"
"I can survive," I tell him.
"But I have no freedom. I'm not happy."
"You can't expect being happy to be
easy."
"You can strive for it though."
He turned slightly to look at me through
my red hair, then he turned back to rest his cheek on my head. "Have you
thought of a way?"
"By setting this whole city on
fire."
"How do we do that?"
"Pour kerosene everywhere. Poke holes
into the tyres of firetrucks. Then we light that fancy lighter of yours."
"You have an idea how we'll get all
that kerosene?"
"You're rich. I'm sure you can get to
it."
He snickered. I wish I saw his face,
because I'm sure he looked better than the straight face with the slanted
eyebrows I usually see when I get here. "I'm not rich, but okay, what will
we do after that?"
"We run."
He didn't say anything. I took his hand
and observed it. There were so many cuts; deep lines that went across his palm,
a long stitch scar on the back and his phalanges protruding against the
pink-tinted skin. I stroked the back side slightly with my thumb, and he gently
grasped onto my hands.
The tour bus looked a line of blues and blacks as it passed by a
winding road downhill. The sudden change from a developing town to the
abandoned road edged by stunted trees and old houses, empty and mouldy felt
slightly eerie to the tourists.
"We are passing by an old area from
the colonial days, where the soldiers lived in the quarters with their
families. Here, they are not far from the hospital and the police station,
which is supposingly convenient. We won't be stopping here in our tour; for
safety purposes."
The tour guide's voice sounded sullen
compared to his usual chirpy voice, which usually cracked lame jokes that would
bring laughter to the bus - mostly accepted by the older ladies and parents
trying to be courteous. Fifteen year old Adam didn't find any of his jokes
funny nor was he concerned about how serious he was. He was distracted by the
abandoned buildings - how they reminded him of the scenery in the video games
he had played and how amusing it was. He had an urge to venture the buildings -
as old and empty as they seemed, he could appreciate the value of the history.
People lived in those buildings. Real humans with real lives and their own
stories created, decades ago.
When the old quarters disappeared, the
scenery changed to long, double storey buildings where guards roamed the
grounds. The tourist explained how this is the only building that is still in
use in the area - the prison. Just as they pass by the gate where a decaying
wooden sign was hung, the words 'Goldsprings County Prison' was carved in, the
tourist gave his last words on the explanation, "Executions are still held
here."
Clara, Adam's thirteen year old sister
shuddered at the words beside him. "Creepy."
"I think it's cool," Adam told
her. "A bit of Dreamfall mixed with Call of Duty, in my opinion."
"Video game reference?" Clara
asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He didn't respond, only kept his eyes on the
view. Soon, the bus left the area and was back in the town, where souvenir
shops were standing, filling the roads with trash and tables scattered against
the black tar. Adam felt bored again. So far in this tour, he had only felt
interested in the abandoned area while the rest of the bus held smiles of
relief as the bus came to a stop by the shops. They were free to roam the area
and shop for souvenirs for about two and a half hours. Adam had other plans.
"Hey, you planning to buy
anything?" Adam asked Clara as she was about to plug in earphones,
following behind her steps. He knew she was not big on shopping, and decided to
bring her on an adventure.
"Well, it depends if I find
anything," she sighed of boredom. Not another souvenir shopping session,
she had thought. It's not like there's anything for her here. Her eyes fell
curiously on her mischievous brother. "Why?"
"I wanna take a walk somewhere else.
Get some air. You wanna come with?" Adam grinned.
"Don't tell me you're planning to go
back there," Clara frowned.
"Ssh, not so loud!" Adam looked
around. "Look, do you wanna come with or do you wanna die here of
boredom?"
Clara felt responsible for her retarded
brother. She had always known he had a brain of a five year old. She finally
sighed and nodded. She followed behind the smiling Adam, her feet heavy but
willing. The stores weren't far from the houses, and the single road made it
easier for the two. They followed it cautiously; making sure no one noticed
where they were heading. Young and active, their steps were quick and soon,
they passed by the prison without getting anyone's attention. Clara looked
inside the gates of the prison as they pass through and caught eyes with an old
guard, whose skin sagged and eyes were a hard light blue. Clara avoided eye
contact as Adam had told her to and kept her eyes on the black road.
Adam on the other hand took in the scenery
with much awe. The green trees behind the abandoned houses were tall but kept
away from the buildings, as if the houses owned the green grass that was kept
low surrounding them. The white walls stained black and green of mould, veins
creeping up the lower walls and cracks came from the glassless windows. He has
a curve by his lips - both of admiration and excitement. He had never gone to
such thrilling places before; places he thought people only created for
entertainment purposes. Places he had always thought were fiction. Who knows
what else is out there for him to discover?
He intended to enter the buildings, but
before anything, he needed proof of this adventure. Maybe this will be the
start to new travels, new possibilities, and new discoveries.
"Hey Adam," Clara called. "Don't
go too far. I don't wanna get lost."
"Clara, come here!" Adam waved
his hand over to his sister who was about twenty metres behind. He took out his
phone and opened his camera. Clara quickened her steps with a wince.
"What?" she panted.
"Take a picture of me by the
houses," he told her, giving his phone over. "I wanna have proof of
this."
Clara sighed and took the phone. Adam went
closer to the house and stood still, putting up a stiff smile. Clara counted to
three from the other side of the road, her hand holding up the phone and clicking
the capture button. "Okay," she called. Adam loosened up.
"Is it okay?" he asked from his
side of the road. Clara tapped around to see the picture she caught. When she
found the file, she screamed.
"What's wrong?" Adam shouted.
Clara dropped the phone on the road and ran from the area, screaming her lungs
out. Adam went over to pick up the phone, cold sweat trickling down his neck.
His thumb shook as he tapped the phone screen to see the picture.
In the picture, the house behind him was
not a mouldy white building. It was a newly painted house, the windows
curtained and the inside furbished. There was a car on the green grass - an old
model, but it looks brand new. There was a table and chairs on the other side
of the yard.
And beside Adam was a couple with their
baby, the husband wearing a soldier's uniform, his hair combed neatly to the
side. His wife wore a bright red dress, knee length and tight by the waste and
the baby, not older than 6 months, wore a cream coloured romper. They were
smiling with rotten, bleeding teeth, their eye sockets empty.
The diner was quiet as usual. Only clanks of plates and
cops and cutlery being washed in the kitchen sink can be heard, the employees
rushing to get home before dawn breaks. It was almost three in the morning when
the man wearing a dark green coat that hung over his broad shoulders glanced at
his watch. He then took a sip from his warm dark coffee, his eyes watching the
cream coloured counter as a wrinkly hand wiped it with a dirty towel. He was a
regular, and although he did not initiate conversation with the middle aged
waitress, she appreciated his company for they do not usually get welcomed
customers at this time of the shift.
"Still haven't found what you’re looking for?"
she asked him, her small glasses on the edge of her nose bridge.
"Wasn't expecting it tonight, anyway," the man
answered, trying to assure himself more than the other. The rectangular pin on
her chest suggests her name was Griselda, but he never called her by name.
"But you come anyway," she grinned.
The man took some time to answer, considering the reasons
he comes to this diner every night. Finally, he replied simply with
"Hope."
His facial structure lighted up as he looked up at the
television on the wall when a short familiar melody played. He had wide eyes
and a high, slightly dented nose, his lips dry and dark from the cigarettes
above a goatee. His dark brown hair was tucked under a baseball cap, the ends
sticking out at the back unkempt. The screen showed the weather broadcast, a
re-run from the evening news. The typical pre-autumn weather - cloudy and rainy
in some areas, windy in others - was predicted.
"Looks like it's gonna keep drizzling this whole
week," Griselda mentioned. "It's either I get sick or waste money on
cabs. The world these days just ain't for someone like me."
"Itneverhadbeenforme,"the man thought as he took another sip of
his coffee.
---
"But you just got home!" Heidi's mother wailed
when she said she was going out for fresh air. The drizzle up ahead did not
worry her - a sturdy umbrella was in her hands, ready to fight the wet combat.
"I won't be long, mother," Heidi replied, pushing
her dirty blonde hair back, the soft ends falling on the back of her
khaki-coloured coat. She wriggled her feet in her boots.
"Don't come back too late!" Heidi's mother told
before she stepped out of the house.
"No worries," Heidi smiled. "I'll be back
before midnight."
It was 3.24am when Heidi found the diner she used to hang
out with all her friends. Her smile was a bit too bright in comparison to the
crowd - if it could be called that -when she entered. She kept her umbrella in
the bin by the door, reminiscing the old times when she was a teenager. Heidi
and her friends hung out here almost everyday - Marissa, Leslie, Frank and
Willy. The five of them had always had each other, until they went to different
colleges and lost contact.
Heidi took a seat on the counter, smiling at the middle
aged lady dressed in a pink checkered dress, an apron tied to her waist,
glasses on the edge of her nose bridge.
"What can I help you with?" the lady asked in a
friendly manner, forming a curve with her lips.
"Umm, coffee would be nice," Heidi replied.
"No sugar."
A man on her right coughed. She glanced at him, but decided
to ignore the person, seeing how suspicious he looked. As her attention went
back to the waitress, the man pulled his baseball cap lower.
"Do you still have Old Jenny's apple pie?" Heidi
asked.
“That's a classic," the waitress replied. "Rarely
anyone orders those anymore. You're lucky I'm on shift tonight, or else you
wouldn't get it the same no more. Not like before."
The old lady swiftly made Heidi's coffee and served it, then
made her way to the kitchen. Heidi watched as the lady worked on the kitchen
surface. Her attention diverted to the man from before as he came closer to
her. He left two seats in between them, not looking her in the eye. Heidi
looked at him curiously.
"Can I help you?" Heidi asked, rising her
eyebrows. The man glanced at her, slightly surprised and shook his head. He
took a sip of his coffee calmly. Heidi turned her mouth slightly.
"Do you come here often?"
The man did not look up when he replied. "Every
night."
"Wow," Heidi replied. She was not curious why.
"I used to come here every day, too," she told him. "It was
years ago though, when I was still a kid. Although I don't look it, but I'm
turning 32 this year. I feel so old."
"As vain as ever," the man said under his breath.
"Excuse me?" Heidi asked, but the man only shook
his head, a smirk on his face. Heidi decided to ignore him and went on. She was
in the mood to talk tonight. Maybe he was not the perfect company, but she had
wanted to come back to this diner since the day she graduated college. And now
that she's here, all the memories made came running through her mind like a bullet
train.
"At that time The Beatles was everyone's
favourite," Heidi reminisced out loud. "They had a hit, Golden
Slumbers. I knew all the words. Sang it everyday with my friends. I can't
remember much but the first few lines. 'Once
there was--'"
"'--a way back
home,'" the man sang with her. The two stopped singing and looked at
each other. While the man looked contently into Heidi's eyes, as if looking and
digging for something, Heidi only smiled in amazement.
"You know the song!"
"It's the story of my life," the man told,
looking back at his coffee. Just then, Griselda came back from the kitchen, a
plate of a miniature warm apple pie in her hands, two forks by its side. She
set the plate between the two knowingly.
"Enjoy."
Heidi felt warmth coming up to her face but the man ignored
it. When the lady passed, Heidi took one of the forks and sliced through the
pastry. "You should try this," she told the man, shoving the piece
into her mouth. "It's the best pie in the whole wide world."
"I would know," the man replied. Heidi did not
know how to respond. He had tasted it before? He must have been around for a
long time.
"What is the
story of your life, anyway?" Heidi decided to change the topic.
"If you can't tell, I'm slightly trapped."
Heidi had heard those words before. "I'm trapped. Nowhere to go."
"No way to go back home," the man and Heidi said
simultaneously. They looked at each other, and suddenly they were brought back
to sixteen years ago when they said the same things at the same counter,
sharing the same pie.
"If you're not around,
Heidi, I wouldn't know where to go," the man had said, then still just a boy. "You're my way home."
"Frank," Heidi whispered, looking closely at the
unshaved face. Had he really lost his way? In the end he came back here, in
case someone came to save him.
Frank smiled, his dimples showing through the goatee. “I
miss home."
---
thank you to yen fern for helping me out with this. inspired by a few things : a Japanese movie called "Golden Slumbers", the song itself, and also Angus Stone's Monsters.
The first
time I came acquainted to Yoo Youngjae was in the second year of high
school. His mask was different from the most of us – it covered his whole face.
It was white with two large circles as eyes (where I assume holes were
poked but unseen for his eyesight) and a wide yellow smile. It suited his
actions – rather humourous and carefree. I’ve always thought it was a pity that
people couldn’t see his face. I bet it was a handsome one.
As all
the citizens of Mato were required to do, I myself had a mask that covered my
mouth. It’s pattern was a zip, and the thickness of the cloth muffled my voice,
training me to speak less – as if the government made the zip pattern on
purpose. The citizens of Mato are told to wear masks when they reach the age of
thirteen. Most children were trained to wear them from little – either for
their eyes or their mouth – but some parents want their children to taste
freedom before being locked under the government’s law which was made for the
sake of equality and just among the citizens. Voices are shushed, eyesight is
disturbed and pure faces non-existent. This was the rule of Mato.
I never
spoke to Yoo Youngjae – or to anyone in particular, since breathing exhaled air
isn’t very comfortable – until the day he became my lab partner in Chemistry.
He was the new kid and I was the outcast. We weren’t really given a choice. He
asked me a few questions and at first nodding and shaking my head seemed to
answer them, but when that didn’t do the job I stopped responding. Eventually when
he managed to pull us an A+ for our assignment, I wrote him a note of
gratitude. He looked at me and I assume he was smiling but I couldn’t really
tell – on the surface he was always smiling.
Ever
since then we kept talking at every Chemistry class. He was in my English class
too so when there was group work it would be an unspoken rule that we’d be in
the same group. He would talk, and I’d have a lot to say but I’d simplify it
into short notes. He seems to get it, answering my silent questions.
After what
seems like a long time, we became close friends. When you hear the name Jung
Daehyun you’d think of Yoo Youngjae and vice versa. He’d come over to my house
where I’d take off my mask and breathe fresh air. We’d talk about the norm -
school, girls - but mostly about how we can easily escape this flawed system.
School is a wreck, life was the same every single day and our future was bleak.
But I’d tell him that we can’t do that. We have to stay and change things. He
would stop talking about it, but I knew his mind won’t shut up.
I never
thought he was serious about it. But I guess I wasn’t the most important thing
in his life – not like how he was to me.
One day
in the middle of our senior year, Youngjae told me to come to his house. He
rarely invited me over since his house was quite far away. But I guess there’s
a first for everything. He told me to bring a few things, saying that he has a
surprise for me. I just went along with it – I was used to Youngjae’s pranks
and this didn’t seem any different from the others. When I arrived, he still
had his mask on, not giving me the slightest clue on what his face looks like.
He didn’t mention anything about the surprise until around midnight when he
shushed me in the middle of a conversation. We listened as his parents’ bedroom
door creaked and snapped lock. He placed his index finger on where I suppose
was his lips and told me to bring my stuff and follow him. He slung a backpack
retrieved from under his bed over his shoulders, opening the window of his bedroom.
I gasped a little when he jumped out. I walked slowly towards the window,
expecting to see a bleeding boy on the ground below but he was perfectly fine,
dusting dirt off his sweater.
“Come on,
Daehyun!” he whispered.
I
hesitated a little and squinted my eyes as my feet left the double-storey
building. I landed on my side, pushing Youngjae down with me. We chuckled a
little and got on our feet. On the roadside of Youngjae’s house was a pick-up
truck, its headlights dim and its engine humming low. I can see shadows inside
the car – three full facial features glowing, light reflecting on them without
a mask to cover it.
Youngjae
took off his mask and left it by a mailbox. He swung his backpack into the back
of the car, about to climb in. He turned to see if I was following. I still
couldn’t grasp on what was going on – either my head was still dizzy from the
drop or Yoo Youngjae had a very attractive face. Round eyes with a straight
nose and puffed lips. His expressions were mischievous – telling me to hurry
the fuck up. I moved my feet towards the car, following suit. My thighs hurt
from climbing onto the tall vehicle, but I couldn’t stop staring at Youngjae’s
facial features.
He caught
my eyes and startled me for a bit, but he only aimed for my mask.
“Take
this off,” he told me.
“What? In
public?” I touched the rich fabric.
“You’re
about to taste freedom.” He took it off for me, hurting my ears a little from
the force and threw it next to his mask. As the car drove off, I watched it
land perfectly under the mailbox, as if a goodbye to our past life. I looked at
the road in front of us – the road to out next destination. Our escapade.
Youngjae
explained to me excitedly how he had planned this since junior year. He kept in
touch with friends from his old neighbourhood and planned it quietly. They
needed time to find a place to stay and money for food, plus the timing had to
be perfect – right when people were of least interest in them. The rest was
still unclear, but heck. Stupidity is part of youth. I wondered why he never
talked about this plan to me – maybe he never thought of bringing me along. But
he did in the end. This is what Youngjae wanted – freedom. And I’m part of it.
The large
vehicle passed an uphill jungle and stopped when we reached a clearing near a
cliff. Youngjae explained that their place wasn’t ready until morning, so we’re
going to camp out here until sunrise. Amazingly, Youngjae’s friends were great
outdoors. In fifteen minutes, two tents were up and a pile of wood was set to
be put on fire.
As we
struggled in finding warmth, Youngjae introduced the rest of the gang. The
oldest was Kim Himchan. He had a bright future – went to college, musical
abilities, a smart alec in general. I couldn’t understand why he would give up
on all that until Youngjae introduced to the youngest among us, also Himchan’s
adopted brother, Moon Jongup. He was as innocent as a puppy, coming from a
religious orphanage and raised under Himchan’s arms. I don’t think that type of
sibling relationship was separable. Apparently, Jongup’s mask filtered his
eyesight, and I find it a pity because his eyes were small enough. But he had a
passion – dancing – and his eyesight was an important part of it.
The third
person was Im Jaebum. He was a childhood friend of Youngjae’s. They both had
the same mischievous smile, their laughter in harmonization. I felt envious for
awhile but I knew there was no reason to be. I was the stranger here, yet
everyone made me feel like home.
We talked
about what we’d do – rob grocery shops, peeks at the woman’s bath house and set
a small fire at a school. We talked about what we can do now that we’re not
handicapped by the masks. Himchan took out a box of cigarettes from his
pocket somewhere in the middle of the conversation, taking one breath but
fumbled with the cigarette as he spoke, smoke seeping out from the sides of his
mouth. Jaebum constantly took puffs from his, but Youngjae and Jongup didn’t
touch the box. Jaebum tried lighting his second stick with the bon fire in the
middle of us and burnt his finger. All of us did stupid stuff and said stupid
things, laughing it off. It felt good – if felt free, smiling in the warmth of
a fire we made, under the moon we saw every night. But this time, it was
different.
“Look,”
Jongup said, one of the rarest times. “We can see the stars here.”
All of us
looked up and blinked at the small glints of light in the sky. We didn’t say a
word. The smoke from the fire tinted out sight, but it was still a beautiful,
untouchable blanket.
We heard
a knocking sound and saw Youngjae lying down on his back, arms stretched out,
his legs unfolding from its crossed position. I followed suit and so did the
others. We laughed to ourselves and soon fell asleep. When we woke up, the fire
was a fifth its size from last night, the sky wasn’t as dark anymore and there
were other voice around telling us to wake up.
“And
where are your masks?!” a raspy voice scolded us.
I rubbed
my eyes as I felt a hand grabbing my arm roughly. Beside me was Youngjae, being
grabbed the same way in the same groggy state. I looked around and saw that
Jongup was already up, his face full of guilt as a skinny policeman reaches for
cuffs from his belt. The one holding me up – the oldest one – was fat and
short, his grey moustache twitching annoyingly on his upper lip. Another
policeman, this one rather fit and tall already got Himchan up, kicking at
Jaebum to get on his feet. All three of them wore a similar mask – black, only
covering the upper half of their faces. I glanced at Youngjae and saw a smirk
that lasted two seconds. As usual, he had a plan.
He bent
down a little, but the old policeman pulled him back. “Hey, what do you
think you’re doing?!”
“I’m just
taking my iPod!” Youngjae defended himself. The policeman grunted.
“Kids and
their techno shit…” he mumbled.
Youngjae’s
hands first reached for the iPod under him but its direction swiftly changed
towards the stack of burnt wood in front of him, grabbing one and swinging it
across the policeman’s face. Jaebum, who had miraculously woke up in time to
see what had happened, grabbed another firewood and hit the tall policeman’s
legs several times. The four of us stood up and went towards Jongup, whose
mouth hung as he watched what seemed like a scene from a movie. The skinny
policeman was scrambling for a gun, but Jaebum shouted at his face which made
him shriek. He stuck out his tongue playfully at him as we ran towards the
jungle.
I looked
back to see all three of them running after us, panting from the unexpected
exercise. The oldest huffed, wanting to take off his mask.
“If you
do that I will report you to the chief!” shouted the tallest.
Himchan
looked back and saw the three red faces, struggling to catch up. He laughed and
we laughed along with him. Where we were going, we didn’t know. There is no
future; only now. We were tasting freedom – the essence of youth.
Taemin
isn’t sure what he’s doing at
the edge of a cliff when Krystal found him. It’s the place he and his four
friends used to hang out. A lonely aging tree nearby still bears some leaves in
this early autumn time. During spring, the five of them would bring food, books, and games. They
would listen to music and just hang out until the mornings and they would watch
sunrise and fall asleep against each other’s shoulders until early afternoons,
when the sun would be too hot for them to stay out. But that was spring. Many
things can change in between seasons. Apparently, what happened to the five of
them is too quick for Taemin to grasp with the tips of his fingers, and it
slips away just like that.
As Taemin
turns to look at Krystal, shadows of Sehun’s face hover in his eyes. He looks
away – back to the blackness of the night sky. He feels calm just by looking at
the emptiness – the stars would never come out what with the bright city lights
underneath them. But he’s used to
it. How can he miss something he’s never seen?
“Don’t you
get bored? There’s nothing here anymore,” Krystal states out, breaking the
peace and quiet. Her earrings are dangling in the soft breeze, brushing her
shoulders as she looks down at the brittle ground. It felt homier with all five
of them there, laughter in the air, the sun burning red and orange in the noon.
Krystal didn’t want to come here – she knew she’d cry at one point if she did.
But so far she’s been strong.
Thunders
roar up ahead. The clouds have been hanging in the sky for days, grey and
heavy. They were expecting this, so the two don’t say a word about it.
“There’s
their reminiscence though,” Taemin replies, his eyes scanning the clouds for
nothing. “I… I miss them.”
*
The
beautiful flowers bloomed with the essence of spring. Taemin’s mini truck
rushed through the highway road, colourful flowers squeezing in every space in
the car that didn’t have a human on it. They left their windows open, so that
the petals would fly behind them, making a trail. Krystal looked out the
window, half her torso poking out of the car to see how evenly the petals fell
on the black tar. She removed her round sunglasses to see the colourful petals
lighting up the road. She laughed and pulled herself back in.
“Whose idea
is this again?”
“Although I’d love to take the credit for
this ingenious plan, I have to admit that derpface here did quite a good job
this time,” Kai commented from the other side of the back seat. In between Kai
and Krystal was Sehun, grinning to himself as he looked at the road in front of
him. Sulli, who was sitting on the passenger seat next to Taemin looked at the
three through the rear mirror, her face red and smiling.
“Aw, my
boyfie planned all this out?” Krystal asked, holding Sehun’s face by the chin
to turn it around so he would face her.
“I’m so
proud of you!” she said, pecking his lips. He pecked hers back.
“You
should’ve known your boy a little better,” was all he said.
“Okay, well
I think I should be credited for the driving?” Taemin piped in. Everyone
groaned and laughed. Kai pushed his head a little.
“You’re the
only with a licence, bro,” he said. “If I could drive then this car would be
flying right now. Speed up!”
“Can’t, my
friend. We’re on a free and easy trip today. So let’s take it easy.” Taemin
pressed the paddle a little harder, making the old car jumped a little then
smoothly speeding up, causing even some stems to fall out of the car. Sulli
held on the handle near the window, squealing. Sehun passed more flowers to
Krystal, sneaking a stem behind her ear. Kai screamed out of his window, and
Krystal followed, letting the wind eat up her bouquet of flowers out of the
window.
They were
young. They had no commitments. They were free. So they had fun.
But how far
can they live with just fun?
*
“There’s nothing
we can do,” Krystal tells Taemin, coming up next to him, looking at his face.
Taemin doesn’t budge. He can’t look at her. The guilt will eat him up.
“It’s the
past and we have to move on.”
“It’s a bit
hard when they were the only reason I had to move on.” The thunders and
lightning start to grow in amount, the grey clouds increasing in size.
Taemin
remembers coming back to an empty home. He has no parents. No siblings. He was
alone.
But he had
his friends.
*
“Don’t
worry man, I got your back.”
That is what
Taemin said when Kai told him he had a crush on Sehun. But he couldn’t admit
that he was gay. It was only Sehun; had always been the only one. Now Sehun had
Krystal and he couldn’t do anything about it.
“It feels
different,” Kai said, his plump lips slowly separating after a long silence.
“To finally let go of something and be sure of what had been playing in your
mind.”
“I wish I could
understand,” Taemin told him. They were watching the red sunset under the old
tree. Sulli was sleeping at the back seat of Taemin’s car, while Krystal and
Sehun had been listening to some music through the same earphones until they
fell asleep on the matted ground.
“But I
don’t think I’ll ever feel like that.”
*
Unsure and
contemplative. Taemin has always been like this.
Even now
with Krystal trying to twine their hands together, he’s still unsure whether
she’s just an illusion or if she’s real. He finally doesn’t fight anymore, and
lets Krystal’s slim fingers slip in between his. Krystal looks up at his face
again and he doesn’t fight the urge to look at her. Her eyes search for
something that she can’t find in his.
“Don’t do
this to yourself," Krystal said.
“What
are you doing about it?”
*
Ever since
the incident, Krystal has been trying to keep herself away from any memory of
the five of them being together. Since the streets of Seoul and anywhere else
they had been to in South Korea remind her of them, she moved away to America
to live with her parents for three months. Not until she heard about Kai
hanging himself did she come back. She knows Taemin needs her.
*
“So he did
it here?” A thunder roars and a drop of rain falls on Krystal’s nose.
“At that tree
right there.” Taemin looks away again. “Why out of all places. Just when I
thought we’d finally have some place to remember we were happy…” he trails off,
his eyes starting to get wet and his throat starting to dry. Krystal tightens
her grip. When Taemin cries, she can’t. She knows she has to be strong.
*
“You’re not
coming to the club with me?” Krystal asked Sehun over the phone.
“Sorry, not
really feeling it tonight,” Sehun said, stretching from the lower bunk of the bed
he shared with Kai.
“Yeah, I
have a feeling you won’t really mind if I flirted with other guys,” Krystal
retorted.
“Krystal, please
don’t,” Sehun plead.
“Yeah sure
Sehunnie, you know I won’t,” Krystal bit her lip, avoiding herself from smiling
stupidly. “I’m just gonna dance to a few songs and head back home.”
“I don’t
have to worry right?”
“Nope,”
Krystal smiled. “Love you.”
“Love you
too.”
That was
the night it happened.
*
“I
shouldn’t have gone without Se—“
“Don’t say
his name.”
The rain
gains weight and drizzles above their heads, wetting their hair and clothes,
drops landing on their faces. Kai wasn’t the first in Taemin’s priority list.
Although they had promised each other ‘bros over hoes’, the girl Taemin fell
for was no hoe.
*
Taemin
looked at her glinting eyes, her smile sincere and her bangs giving a hidden
personality look. And she did have a hidden personality. Although Sulli was
quiet and didn’t say much, she laughed heartily with her beautiful voice. She
would play her favourite songs every time the five of them fell into silence in
the car and she would start singing. And everyone would just listen. She was a
natural charmer. And Taemin had always seen it since grade school.
But she
didn’t see him.
“Oppa!” her
voice rang through Taemin’s ears. Sulli was referring to a close friend of hers
through the phone. She obviously had something for him – the way her eyes grew
slightly bigger every time his name came out on her phone screen, and how her
voice was always gentle and small when she talked to him. Taemin could only
watch. Then when he felt that pain in his chest, he would look away.
*
“Sulli…”
Krystal
doesn’t say anything. She hears Taemin’s voice hoarsely saying it. She sighs.
“We can’t go on like this.”
“Why are
you pretending like we did nothing wrong?!” Taemin finally screams. He looks at
Krystal furiously, his eyes are red from trying to stop the tears. The rain
makes it hard to tell the difference between his tears and raindrops. Krystal
doesn’t say anything. That night was too hard for him. But it was just as hard
for her.
*
“A few more
shots?” Taemin raised a glass at the bar and Krystal lifted up hers, already
giggling from the alcohol. Taemin spotted Krystal alone on the dance floor and
pulled her to the side when some men starting pinching her butt. Now they were
drunk, not realizing the time, and forgetting about their lovers.
Krystal’s
body hit the wall of Taemin’s house as he kissed her lips hard, licking her
upper lip once in awhile. Krystal’s right hand was on the back of Taemin’s
head, pushing him in for more. Her left hand reached out to undo his belt.
*
“Do you
think I wanted things to turn out like that?!” Krystal shouts over the thunder.
The rain is getting heavier and their clothes and hair are getting from wet to
soaked through.
“Why did
you go away?! Why did you run?!” Taemin shouts back.
*
“You’re not
going to the club with Krystal tonight?” Kai asked as he was about to walk out
of the door, going to get some dinner.
“Tonight my
friend,” Sehun said, his arm swinging over Kai’s shoulders. “Tonight we’ve got
a plan.”
*
“I won’t be
here anymore if I stayed!” Krystal screams.
*
“You’re
going to propose to her?” Kai asked. His stomach fell. His throat felt a bit
dry.
“Yet
another ingenious idea from the derpface.”
“Are you
sure about this bro?”
Their
doorbell rang and Sehun went to get it. It was Sulli.
“You ready
to go ring shopping?” Sulli asked.
Kai’s jaw
dropped. Sehun looked at him apologetically. “So, you coming?”
Kai took a
few seconds to swallow all of this in. Later he decided that he should start
moving on. He couldn’t hold on to Sehun forever. “I’ll get Taemin’s keys.”
*
“But I was
all alone,” Taemin sobs, the rain falling on his face. A lightning flashes
above them to give the two a short glimpse of each other in the night’s
darkness. It is followed by another thunder. Krystal looks at Taemin with
regret.
“I’m
sorry.”
*
Krystal’s
blouse was on the floor of Taemin’s house, along with empty pizza boxes, random
comic books and the boxers he was wearing that night. Taemin was kissing
Krystal’s neck when suddenly his phone rang.
“Sulli.”
Krystal
jumped up from Taemin’s bed.
“Sehun.”
*
“I don’t
want to be alone anymore.” Taemin moves closer to Krystal. He’s out of tears. He’s tired of crying.
*
“I’m sorry,
your friends Kai, Sehun and Sulli were involved in an accident where the car
was crushed against another car by a lorry. The lorry driver was drunk,” the female
voice said through Taemin’s phone speaker. “Two are badly injured. It
is unlikely for them to survive. One managed to escape with bearable injuries.”
“Wh-who is
it?”
“The
driver.”
*
“It was all
our fault.” Krystal finally lets the tears flow out of her loneliness. But now
they’re mixed with the incessant rain.
“That’s
enough.”
*
“I don’t
think I can ever forgive myself.”
Taemin
looked at Kai. He had a bandage on his forehead over his right eyebrow. They
believed that they would never see Krystal ever again. So they decided to go up
the cliff one last time before moving on.
“It wasn’t
your fault.” Taemin slowly gulped, remembering that night with Krystal. He
secretly would never forgive himself either.
“Taemin, I
want you to remember this,” Kai said. “Nothing’s gonna be alright after this.
We will be scarred forever. But I want you to move on. We had happy memories.
Everything was fine. Time waited for us. But only for so long.”
He paused for a while, as if looking back and regretting everything. “I only
want you to remember the happy memories. Let go of all the bad ones, and walk
facing the front. Look back once in awhile; I want you to never forget us. But
just walk straight ahead.”
Taemin only
looked at the sun. He knew what was going to happen. But he decided he wouldn’t
stop his friend.
“Promise me
you’ll remember.”
“Promise.”
*
“Let’s
think about the happy memories. Let’s just think about their laughs.”
Sehun’s
laughter mixing over with the picture of his bloody face in the front
passenger’s seat, crushed in between the hard metals.
“About
their voices.”
Sulli’s
singing voice ringing in their ears but their eyes only saw the innocent face
pale in the hospital bed.
“And their
smiles.”
Kai’s last
smile as he removed his bandage in the red sunlight.
Krystal
sobs into Taemin’s soaked chest. He pulls her in as she weeps.
“There’s
nothing we can do. We only have each other now.”
Krystal’s
scream echoes from the cliff down to the houses below it, slowly reaching the
apartments further away, fading with the thunders and the lightning. There,
standing in the rain, Taemin and Krystal only have each other. And they promise
they will never leave the other. Because they are, the only reasons left to
move on.