When Bluebirds Fly | ✔

Part One : Chapter Fourteen

I laughed nervously, the black hole within me was getting squeezed by undeserving warmth from all sides. I could picture the hole diminishing in my mind, the black molecules vaporizing one by one as I felt lighter with the childhood nostalgia overcoming me. It was as if I was seven again with dirt under my nails and my frilly cotton frock smelling of dried sweat.

We had arrived at my building and Isaac quietly followed me inside. I could feel the rowdies of my apartment ogling at me- more so at the new rich kid as they lingered near the bikes parked, the smoke from their cigarettes wafting in the late evening cool air. Isaac was right behind me, his breath felt warm on my bare shoulder. I was dressed in an old grey tank top, blue jeans and yellow flip-flops, but with the curious stares, I felt as naked as the day I was born. A truly upsetting day- my birthday.

I didn't know why I let Isaac accompany me inside, but his slow, steady breaths on my shoulder were comforting.

"I know you feel like the world is conspiring against you, that everyone hates you," Isaac said in a low voice as we sat next to each other on the stairs. I leaned against the wall, resting my head on the rough, concrete surface, unfazed by the honesty with which he spoke. It was dark and silent as if the stairwell of this dilapidated apartment was detached from the rest of the world. It had always been a safe space for Sam and me, the shameful secrets in the back of our minds blossoming into bold, untethered parts of ourselves as we spoke freely. I didn't know whether I was prepared to do the same with Isaac, he was too pure to be sullied by my malaise.

"I could make Tony and Lola hate me, can you believe that?" I scoffed at the outrageousness of my own statement. "Even Ally. That girl worshipped me for mysterious reasons. But look now, she can't even stand the sight of me."

"That's not true, she'll forgive you soon enough."

"See, you don't get the point, do you?" My voice wavered, but I kept going. "I know she'll come around eventually, she's not the person to hold a grudge against anyone. She's too nice of a person to ever do that. But what does that make me? I achieved the impossible, I made her hate me, even it was for a fraction of a second. I made her feel guilty for despising someone, I made her feel hate. I made her a bad person. I let the untouched sun see the darkness of the night. The impossible! Do you get me?"

Isaac nodded hesitantly. "If you did make her hate for that particular second, you can't possibly forget all the other seconds where you have made her feel love towards you. In your own words, she worshipped you. She must have seen something in you to do that and that something cannot be anything less than adulation- love."

I didn't like him correcting me with his optimism because goddamn, he had a solid point which made me feel unintelligent.

"What do you know about this, huh?" I asked flippantly. "Everyone loves you."

And rightfully so.

He smiled weakly. "Not everyone. I feel like the world hates me too when I suck at soccer and see the disappointment on everyone's faces." 

"Why don't you quit?" I raised my shoulders. "Just quit."

"I'm hoping that I'll get better at it," he said sheepishly. "Someday."

The small light above us flickered, illuminating the otherwise dark stairwell.

"My advice sucks," I admitted scornfully. "Go on with the motto you abide by, the try, try till you cry bullshit."

Isaac laughed, but I was distracted by the sound of the scintillating light.  A swarm of insects circled around it, hindering the path of orange brightness. I felt like those galling insects in Isaac's life, obstructing his radiance, his cheerful outlook on life. When one of the insects with its translucent wings came fluttering towards me, I couldn't resist, but catch it in my fist and crush it to death.

I opened my fist and winced at the squashed form, tiny droplets of blood splattered on the smoothness of my white palm. 

Isaac looked mortified. "Poor soul didn't deserve to be murdered like that."

"Nobody deserves a death like this," I muttered, flicking its body off my hand, the bloodstains refusing to leave. "And nobody gets what they deserve."

"Mariana?" Suddenly, I heard a breathless voice and turned around. "What are you doing here?"

There stood Sam with his back hunched, clutching his right temple, looking acutely distressed. My eyes darted from the blood spots on my palm to him- to the drops of blood trickling down his temple. Why was I seeing red? Blood red?

"Shit," Isaac swore and sprang on his feet. He climbed upstairs towards a stupefied Sam who pressed at his wounded temple and staggered back. "Hey, man---"

"Mariana?" Sam said sharply, his eyes narrowed at Isaac. "Why are you with him? At our spot?"

I slowly assessed my surroundings, two faces blazing with tension under the blinking light. I opened my fist and stared at the blood of the dead insect and then at Sam's blood sticking to the side of his face. A buzzing creature flew in front of my nose and I squinted, shaking my head.

"You came home late that day because you spent the night with him!" Sam gave the clueless Isaac an accusatory look. "Your father was so worried! He wouldn't stop calling me! Fuck, I was so worried! You didn't bother to leave a fucking message?"

That night. The burning taste of soda on my throat. A trail of insects feasting on biscuit crumbs. A photo-frame with a couple and their two smiling daughters. The net material of my purple frock scratching my thighs. Too many lights on the ceiling, too many.

My eyes watered as I stood up and walked languidly towards Sam. "What happened?"

"What bloody happened is that you disappeared that night! With him!" he shouted and I softly touched his quivering chin. "Your father was scared . . . I was scared . . . You never do that . . . You never did . . . "

"What happened to your face, Sam?" I whispered and his shining eyes averted to the floor. There was a long pause and I could hear his heavy breaths. Isaac remained quiet the entire time, probably baffled that Sam thought I spent the night with him. I held Sam's chin and forced him to look me in the eyes. I repeated patiently and softly, "What happened?"

"That bitch threw the bottle at baba, but it hit the wall next to me and the glass . . . " He grimaced, then jerked his chin away from my touch.

"Come home, we'll fix this---"

"No," he intervened coldly, glaring at Isaac. "I'll manage."

Before I could stop him, he pushed past me and ran downstairs, straight out of the door. I could hear the distant yells of his parents and the insects whirring around. Wild confusion clouded Isaac's grey, wide eyes as they met mine for a brief second and I quickly looked away.

"I can't talk to you right now," I murmured, heading towards my room. I clenched my hand. The blood of the insect mingled with Sam's on my palm.