I'm confused as to why the knob on the door of our home is my hand, but I twist it without realization, and slowly (not that I understand my movement but I see the concrete beneath my feet turn into tile) proceed.
"Goodness, Mel.." I catch the "l" of my name being completed on my father's lips and finally realize I was in a long daze. "You look spooked," he says from the barstool and counter where there's a cup of coffee and an open book in front of him.
"Where have you been?" mother turns from her cooking, and furrows her brows at me.
Mother's wanted to know my whereabouts since I left, but I gave no answer before and I definitely shouldn't now. No. Now, things are worse. I started on a lie, and now another is required. It's required, I think again. But then so would another be, and then another and another!
My stomach turns. I don't know what's worse: shattering the valued trust I have with parents, or forever hiding this tiring run of curiosity about the parade.
I gruff as I open my lips for words. I have to tell them.
"Mel?" questions mother, as they stare at me.
I close my eyes and blurt aloud, "I- I went into town, and I saw the parade!"
I open my eyes to them looking at each other, and my breathing feels nonexistent. What are they thinking... I eagerly watch them silently communicate with one another. What are they thinking? Then mother's eye cuts in my direction and skims across mine. I gasp and turn away; and I fumble my jacket off each arm to hang. I feel so anxious.
Right when I finish that, I'm thumped on the shoulder by my mother's reply. "Okay," she says.
My face wrinkles in confusion as I turn to them, pausing, thinking something more will be said.
"Is that your reply as well, dad?"
"I'm just trying to finish this book," he says.
I am shocked. What kind of a response is this? I place my hand on my hip. I know they're holding out.
"Mom," my voice escapes firmer than intended, but I ignore it and speed over to them. "Dad?" I touch his shoulder, so he'll look away from his book and at me. He does, and so does mother, then I look between the two of them.
"You're trying to avoid questions, right?" My hand falls from his shoulder, and though I try to look at their reactions, I only end up shaking my head in my palms and sighing in desperation, "Well, I have way too many! And I don't them to be ignored!" I look at each of them again. "So please don't leave me clueless. I'm... I'm incredibly overwhelmed and I just..."
I slump onto the barstool, and shield my face in the cradle of my arm on top of the counter.
"Mel..." my father sighs and lays his hand on my shoulder, "You shouldn't have gone into town."
I lift my head to him and reposition myself in the seat.
"I know," I gaze at the floor, "It's just... I found this flyer, about the parade and it wasn't my first time seeing one, so this time I couldn't help myself and"
"You're so impulsive Mel," mother's voice drags, low and bland. I first see that her arms are folded; then I look up at her face of disappointment. She even looks tired now, as if the thought of all this has overwhelmed her too.
I look away from her, and wipe the sudden tear from the corner of my eye.
Then she continues, "We shouldn't be having this conversation with you... a child. You could have seen the town once you got older. You could have understood it all on your own without causing this trouble for us. Just talking about this is troubling me."
She turns back to the pot on the stove and picks up a wooden spoon to stir it, while I remain speechless and hurt. How selfish I am. Even now, I still want an answer, but that makes me feel even more sullen. I should have waited, and I want to apologize, but I'm afraid to break the silence with a "sorry", in fear that I won't get an answer if I do. It may be what the moment needs, but it also may be a distraction causing them to think I don't want an answer, when I really do.
Gosh! I've never been so selfish! What is this causing of me? Maybe curiosity is dangerous.
Tears start streaming down my cheeks, but don't give into them. I remain silent, hoping they'll stop sooner, and I even avert my attention out of the window, over the sink, aside mother, for distraction. Then this sight causes a sensation of bad nostalgia. Reminding me, every year around this time I'm curious, and it's the secrets themselves that's caused this all. They're what's dangerous, and they've been swelling up between each of us for too long now. This is the explosion of truth that was unpreventable.
"I guess we're all a bit to blame," says mother, and I catch my father nodding from the corner of my eye.
"No," I say, though I feel a part of it is true, I am most responsible, and I'd feel way too guilty for them to try to carry any of my fault. "I am sorry," I finally say.
"Well, what's done is done now. You may as well ask your question," she says.
I inhale in surprise, and exhale confusion. What one question can I ask, when I am dizzy with so many? There are several I have about the separation between our community and the towns; and another ton about the war; and some on why our community wasn't affected. I can't ask all of that though. So what is bothering me most? What thought do I have, that's interesting me even more than those?
"Have you two," one question finds its way onto my lips, "have you two heard of Vandora?" I ask.
"We have," smirks my father.
Alright, then they must know about the parade and the island. "Okay, then the town children, who're selected. They go to an actual island?" they nod at me and I continue, "and they... never return? to home, I mean?"
Mother turns off the burner of the stovetop then sits in the stool on my left side, and with my father on my right, I feel secure and at ease between them.
"Most of them don't have or home, or one worth coming back too," says mother.
"So they just stay there forever?" I say this and fold my arms onto the countertop, "Then no wonder Vandora's over capacity..."
"What makes you say that?" asks father.
"Well," I say, "she assured if there were more room, she'd take more people with her. Or was that a lie? Now that I think of it, she's promised to run the island and parade for more years to come! and how can she say that if she's full? Maybe..." I continue without a pause between my speedily chatter, "I thought she seemed honest and giving, but maybe it's something reels the town's people along every year with that untruth."
"Mel!?" mother spits in attempt to slow my thinking.
So I start speaking slower, "I'm only saying that I don't understand it. Does it make sense to you two?" I look at each of them and then away again. "And wouldn't the adults return to help their own town's people. That would offer more room and help everyone."
"What adults?" asks father, "You're getting ahead of yourself." He grumbles.
"I'm sorry," I say, "I mean the kids who've grown up. If she's done this for almost thirty years, that'd mean..." I quickly calculate it and say, "There's at least a thousand of them over twenty-five."
"Yes," starts mother, "but the adults in our community rarely help the town, and the island is far greater than the great of this. What makes you think they'll leave there to help the town's people?"
I become a little shocked to hear her say this, but I know that they help the town, or use to, so this is in reference to the thoughts of the others, but it's still shocking.
"Because that'd be the right thing to do," I say. "They can't be that selfish, are they?"
"Not everyone," says mother. "Just too many for wishful thinking like that and that goes for the town's people too, despite what you think you may have learned of them today."
"I don't know," says father. "I actually think it's a great suggestion Mel. And my Joybird, don't you think that the islanders would help if that was an option. You know, especially over what they actually have to do?"
Mother wrinkles her nose at him in frustration, and I know it's because father's opened another question for me; and I don't hesitant to ask.
"What do they actually have to do? Are they working on something else?" I bite my lip and hold it. For some reason I'm worried, though I may only be psyching myself out without reason.
Mom sighs, and leans her head onto her palm. Her elbow's rested on the counter and she's facing me.
Then she rolls her eyes and says, "Just a new... Opportunity for themselves, as all."
I stare at her half angry half confused, and she watches me.
"So, they're making opportunities for themselves, but no one else!" I question.
Father touches my back saying ,"You don't understand."
"I do!" I turn to him. "People really are that selfish..."
"They don't have a choice," he says. "Everything isn't optional."
"How don't they have a choice?"
"It's a life or death situation," says mother as she sits up straight. "You can either fall to death in fear, or rise in hope that the opportunity will be worth it."
She shrugs, but hop up from my seat, grabing my mouth in shock.
"You can't be saying," I start to stutter, "that she threatens to kill them? Are you?"
They look at one another then back at me in silence. Both of their expressions are sulked, and the feelings spreading to me, but I speak it away with another question.
"So what is it that she does exactly? Does she shot them, or poison them?" Why am I even guessing this, if it's true? "What is the hope? What opportunity? What happens to those who accept or decline it?"
"This community happens," my mom words roll from her tongue in the blandest, most acceptably serious way possible.
"No," I grab the collar of my shirt. "You can't be saying that you're the only adults willing to help the community. And when I think of it, not everyone here even helps!"
"We gave you our perspective of it. It's hope for us, but for most of them, they just wanted to stay alive," says father.
"Well why would anyone choose to die," I question. "Why are they're so many who choose that? And why are the ones who did choose to live mostly selfish? Does Vandora know that the people here aren't living up to their side of things? She should be told."
"It's her set up!" mother cackles at my conclusion. "They don't choose to die Mel! They either survive or die. It is a forced situation, and we choose to see the best of it."
Survive or die? I think.
"You make it sound like a war!" I pause. "Were you guys apart of the war!?" I cry out.
"The horrid war is the cause of the safe haven and its battle," says father. "Battle on the island ensures room every year for newcomers. And it's only for the older kids, but they're told it's coming, and they understand. They know after experiencing the island, if they die they'll die happily, or they, whomever the favored and sufficient two, can live here happily. The others in the community earned their right."
I am so baffled I feel sick, and I can only stare at them, now. And for every second that goes by, I feel like it's an hour. An hour, but really a second, given to me for rewriting my new found life.
I'm silenced in the realization that they were there year's survivors or winners, if you can see it in that way, but I'm... I am unsure of how to see it, or anything anymore.
Who are the people in front of me? And what is this community?
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A/N: Welcome back to the story! Or maybe that only goes for me, who took a bit of a long hiatus? Er.. Anyway, I am back to posting every Friday! <3 <3 So, sorry for the delay, but I don't expect any others! So I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, because there are definitely plenty more to come! :)
Thanks a lot for reading, adding, voting and ect! I appreciate it!