Pantomaniac

Chapter 11

Kef opened one his eyes and the first thing he felt was the numbness on his cheeks. Groaning, he lifted his face from the laptop. Kef rubbed his eyes. It took several squints before his vision cleared.

From where he sat, he spotted the trace of light sneaking into the house. Kef shot a glance at the clock. He slammed his laptop shut and scrambled off the bed. Kef took what was the quickest shower he ever had and got dressed. He made it just on time for work.

Just as he settled down at his post, the thoughts from his research the night before came crawling into his mind. He browsed through tons of sites on mimes and pantomimes. On artsy plays and theatres with deep messages sewn through masked actors. But none of those explained what he had been going through. Kef fought to revive his skills as a police officer but whatever was left in him did little to help him figure things out. Nothing made sense. The mysterious child mimes who had been haunting him had no connection whatsoever with him.

Except for the fact that one of them knew his daughter's name.

As he continued assessing what he had gathered, his eyes began to feel the weight. Slowly, he drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the day light but pulled deeper and deeper by his exhaustion.

A sudden shake on his shoulder jabbed his awake. When Kef opened his eyes, he stared at the man standing in front of him.

"No naps."

The voice was stern. Definite. But all Kef did was stare at the middle-aged man, until seconds later when Kef started speaking.

"I had no choice. I...argh!" Kef grabbed his hair and pulled at it. "You don't understand!!"

Kef banged his fist on the table in the guard house. That jolted him back to reality. He looked up. The man who had woken him up had taken several steps back, looking at him like he had lost his mind.

"Encik... Encik Bakar. I'm... sorry. I...had a nightmare..."

Was it though? Kef wasn't sure but not that he had any other excuse. He had no idea what got into him. He could barely remember what he had said except for the fact that he said something.

Seconds later, Encik Bakar pulled a chair and sat in front of Kef. "Are you okay, Kef?"

Well, that was a first. Kef was used to being questioned. To being showered with criticism. And condemnation. And ugly stares. Eyes which projected disappointment. But this genuine question – Encik Bakar's tone, his relaxed voice, the loose hunch of his shoulders – took him completely off guard. He was lost for words.

"You should rest well in the night. You're tired, I get it. I've been at this job for years. But times are hard. We can't afford to be sloppy. You know that, right?"

"I..." Kef's thoughts were so fuzzy that they tied his tongue.

"Actually...," Encik Bakar let out a gentle laugh. "I knew you're one of those with...that kind of life."

That revived Kef's speech. "What do...you mean? What kind of life?"

A sigh followed before Encik Bakar responded. "It was obvious you were shocked and relieved to be given this job. I saw your face. And how you stood still in front of the gate when you were leaving the other day. Only a man who has gone through hardship behaves that way. I should know."

"What..."

"Kef. I used to be just like you. When my wife died, everything went south. I lost control of my life. I could not sleep. Barely ate. Did odd jobs." Encik Bakar looked around. "This isn't much but it's the steadiest I've been since that dark time."

"I'm sorry...," that was all Kef could say.

"Don't be. It's all qada' and qadar..."

Those words stung. In a way which sent a shiver that warmed his heart. When was the last time he prayed? When was the last time he felt near to Allah? It almost felt foreign for life had pulled him so far away; he allowed himself to drift and drift until he got caught up in a never-ending spiral. And now, even when a kind man is knocking some sense into his head, something at the back of his mind is fighting to keep that out. And he could not understand what he was feeling. Not one bit.

"I'm...I won't sleep again. Sorry..."

As if to proof his sincerity, Kef adjusted his posture. He tried to smile but what came out was a pathetic curl of his lips.

Encik Bakar returned it nonetheless. As he got up, he said one last thing. "Let me know if you need anything..."

Those words soothed Kef's mind. When he blinked, a tiny drop of tear dangled by the edge of his eyes...

*****

Kef splashed his face. The cold of the water vibrated against his skin. It awoke his senses. Kef rubbed his face and took a deep breath. He took one last splash before turning the water off.

Kef looked into the mirror. He tried to see if he looked any less haggard than before. Perhaps his eyebags had faded but everything else seemed as messed up as before. His gray hair getting more aggressive. No. Things didn't seem much better. He still looked like crap.

He felt ten times worse seconds later. There was a sudden stab at his skull. The pain was blinding; so blinding that he instantly shut his eyes and fell stumbled against the sink. Kef grabbed his head with both hands.

Even though he closed his eyes, he could feel the world spin. It was like a thousand thorns were growing out of his head. Pushing through his skull. Piercing through his skin.

"Argghhh!!!"

Kef spun and banged the wall. His legs knocked the bin. The sound of steel against the tiles echoed. Kef knelt down. He brought his head towards his knees, willing for the pain to go away.

The next he felt was a set of cold fingers pressing on his eyes. They pulled his eyelids open. The headache grew with vengeance as he looked in front of him. The mime child was looking directly at him.

Tilting her head, she placed her palms out. Kef felt his own palms coming up. They leveled with hers. Then he placed them onto hers. He did not know why but he just did.

That's when it all happened. Kef stared at the back of his hands. Eyes wide opened, a vision came to his mind like bolt of lightning. The images swam aggressively through his brain. He had no time to process but they were vivid.

He saw his hand holding a mime mask. The same mask the child mime was wearing. And he felt the chill from the mask in his fingers. He saw the drop of blood from the mask's chin. He saw the trail of red liquid on his fingers. When he looked back at the mime before him, the vision evaporated. The blinding pain returned and took him down.

Kef fell backwards. He clutched at his chest. His breathing became shorter and shorted. Pulling at this shirt, he fought to breathe. Just as he yanked his shirt opened, his airway cleared. Kef breathed in furiously. He inhaled and inhaled, until he had no more strength. Lying there on the bathroom floor, Kef stared at the ceiling. He rubbed his chest. He felt pain whenever his fingers hit a spit.

Kef got up and made his way to the mirror. There was a bruise on his chest. It looked pretty faded but the pain was still enough to make him wince.

Kef stared at his reflection. Waiting for an answer which did not arrive.