Mom peeks in my room on Thursday, which in itself is a miracle. She never comes here anymore. Now while I am in it anyways. I have seen my books move or my bed neat and ready even when I didn't do it. I think mom is trying to establish some kind of boundary between us, and not be a pushover. I appreciate that.
"So Kris I am heading to down to the mart for some supplies? Wanna go?" I rub my arms and say. "Do I have a choice?" I never do, not the last six months at least. It's like mom's afraid I will die if I get out of her sight or something. "You can come if you want to. I am not forcing you." With that she closes the door of my room.
I race to her, my jaw I am pretty sure is on the floor. I grip the banister hard, trying not to trip on the stairs as I watch mom rummage in her purse with her credit cards and other stuff.
"Are you serious? You are going to leave me alone here."
"Well you are a grown up. Would you rather I didn't?" I shake my head. This is good. This is a big improvement. Maybe now I have a chance to actually go to Wilmington without her freaking out completely.
"Grab me a couple of energy bars, will you?" I take one step at a time, carefully down the steep staircase. I think the only worst thing about this house are the stairs.
"And you'll call me if there's an emergency, right?" I roll my eyes as if that's not more obvious. "Duh."
"And even if you don't the alarm system will trip automatically," With that she swings her bag up her shoulder and patters down to the garage door.
"Wait you're locking me in the house?" Mom gives a sugar sweet smile which is the number one sign of don't mess with me young lady .
When mom pulls out of the garage in her Camry I make my way to the den. There's no point in going back upstairs since Netflix is down for the hour. There's a couple of CDs that we got complimentary when we bought to the new BueRay player and TiVo is full of crap that mom watches, like most of the shows on the Food Network.
I surf the entire TV but there' usually nothing good at this time of the day and So you Think You Can Dance marathon isn't like till the evening. I have a brainstorm moment. We had a VCR player. Dad's very good at photography and stuff and we all have these little family videos that we have made, its uncountable. It's probably still in the garage with many other things I have yet to pack.
The garage smells of gasoline and tar and there's so much dust on the cardboard boxes that I end up hacking and coughing for about ten minutes. My mom is as lazy as me.
The I search for it among the stacks, keeping each of the box down carefully and at the very back I find it. There's VCR written on it by my own blocky handwriting. Once I have brought it back to the den, I try to come up with ways to plug in to the TV. Since we still have our older model, it's easier to understand where the three plugs red, white and yellow will go on. After that's done and I have still not broken the TV, I search for something good to watch.
I come upon our seventh grade play where we did rendition of Midsummer Nightdream. Emily was cast as Helena while I was cast as Hippoltya. I just had a single dialogue( what on earth is happening, on seeing the sleeping pairs of Helena, Lysander, Demetrius and Hermia). It was weird to say the least, since our English teacher Mr. Gardiner had made quite a few tweaks in the play including a guitar playing Cupid played none other than yours truly Novahk McAllister.
And I looked so awkward and a bit pudgy in all the wrong places as I walked to and fro the stage and I stop the video immediately. My dad spent the entire forty five minutes including a blasted group song by me and Theseus and our helpers(which was basically all fifth grade students) and it's so horrible I wince everytime I catch sight of me.
I open it up and slid into it another unmarked tape and press play all the time hoping it's not a sex tape or anything. And in the very first scene there's a thunderous applaud while the dimly lit stage gradually comes to life. There's an orange blob of light at the centre of the stage and there's a woman standing dressed in all white her head cast downward.
There's something very familiar about the way she holds herself, her lithe figure and when she looks up I almost fall off the couch.
It's my Mom. And. She. Looks. So. Freaking. Beautiful.
She is wearing an all white churidar and there's a garb covering her head held by sticks. I spot her ghungoor moving rhythmatically along with her body. The trick, according to mom, is to make sure everybody hears the beat of the ghungoor above the music. I strain my ear and sure enough there it is even though whoever is recording all of these probably dad, is sitting way, way back.
And wow is she a specter, gliding along the stage effortlessly and those eyes enhanced by mascara and eyeliner looks is the most arresting feature of her face along with her pouty lips and the mukhra she does with her hand. Drama, she says, the flair. We express our story through our body. It's wonderful isn't it? How we can express the very soul of our culture through art, dance and music. It's, I can't even say what I am feeling right now. Pride that makes my heart inflate and happiness, where you feel kind of giddy.
Beep.Beep.Beep. I whip my head to the ajar garage door where the sound seems to be coming from. And then suddenly the sound increases ten folds almost killing my ears. I cover it and run to garage where the automatic gliding door is wide open.
Who the heck opened it? The alarm panel is changing colours from red to yellow and it's almost unbearable here. My phone always stays in my pocket, so I pull it out and dial 911 and but then hesitate to press call. Should I? Finally deciding that's what 911, I hold it up to my ear.
"911. Please state your emergency."
What am I supposed to stay. There words are in my mind but there's no syllable in my mouth. "Our alarm system tripped for some reason. What should I do?"
"Ma'am have you recently installed it?" the clipped tone at the other end asks.
"Yeah. I don't know how to stop or what triggered it. Do you think somebody broke in?"
"Are there any signs somebody broke in?"
"No."
"Does it run all the way to the house or only on some access points like the front and back doors."
"Yeah. Only the doors." I put my hand on my temple pacing on our driveway. Atleast the sound is not as worse as the wail once I have closed the fricking door.
"I would advise you to stay outside and call the technician of the company your alarm was installed in. Do you have the number?"
"No. I don't . But the company is called Bugstar."
"Okay let me put on a call if they can remotely deactivate it."
"Okay." I stay rubbing some warmth to my chilled hands. Fire could do some good just about now. I think about calling but it's not as if the house in on fire, and since this is the first day she has taken the first step towards behaving normally behaving with me again, I don't want to screw it up again.
The operator comes back o the line. "Ma'am they have tried to remotely stop it. Has it worked?"
"It's still ringing."
"Well in that case I'll have them send somebody over to your house to check on it. Meanwhile ma'am can you please tell me what your name is. And your age?"
"Krishna Covalho. No not Tisna. It's Krishna. No not that... okay okay that's it. I am sixteen."
"I am confirming your address. Is it 36, Offbridge Street, Northfield."
"Yeah that would be it," I say as a boy of about eight years old riding a yellow bicycle comes nto view. He has the American flag attached to his bicycle and it emits a cute sound when he presses it.. He's wrapped in about three layers of warm clothing, his amassed more by clothes more that he actually does in flesh. He cycles past me. "A technician from Bugstar will be there soon. I would advise you to stay outside as a precaution." Sure stay outside in this fantastic weather for god knows how long. No problem at all. Atleast it hasn't snowed today , and the sun laughs at me as it alternates between whitish clouds in the sky and its weak light.
The cycling boy comes around again and I don't have to whir around to know it's him again. His bell does it for him. But this time instead of cycling past me, he comes to a stop beside me and asks. "Why are you standing outside in the cold?"
"Because our alarm system fluked," I say pointing at the garage door. "I have to stay here till somebody comes and fixes it. That's standard protocol or something."
He makes an O with his mouth and nods. "You must be cold do you want something to keep you warm? I have three sweaters on, I can give you my scarf."
"No thanks little fella," I say smiling and then I realize, the familiarity of both the faces finally clicking together. "You're Novahk's brother aren't you?" I ask. He looks surprised for a second before nodding. "That's me. Hi I am Adam." He holds out his hand and I shake it. His hands are soft and warm. There's the familiar mop of curly hair, which the both of them probably got from their dad and while Novahk's eyes are dark as night, his brother's are the exact opposite, light blue and though the shape is the same angular he took after his mother. "Do you want to me to stay with you till the alarm company guy comes around?"
"Aren't you cold?" I ask.
"Nah. I am a big boy and mom says to stay out of her way so I do." It feels a bit weird that she has sent such a little boy out to play alone. "How do you know Novahk?" he asks.
"We go to the same school. Both juniors," I explain and Adam smiles. "Any friend of Novahk is a friend of mine." A car honks and I look down at the road, hoping against hope hat for the first time I am not meeting an American whose clock run later than the actual time. No such luck when the car comes to a stand at Novahk's house instead not his black Camry. It's a steel gray car that I have seen down at the station so that's probably his dad.
Adam who is still beside me has stopped talking and is like me completely focused on the car and the figure that steps out of it. And my mom was not exaggerating when she said Novahk looks exactly like his dad. Give or take a few years and the gray that is beginning to show on his temple and his slight beard, they look so very alike.
"Adam," he calls out and Adam jerks to motion paddling towards the gate as if he didn't cycle fast enough the gates of hell would open up and eat him.
"Coming dad," he yells but his dad is already on his way over to us. There seems to be something wrong with the kid and I can't just leave her alone when there is something clearly bothering him. Novahk's dad Chief McAllister is in plain clothes and with a firm grip on Adam's bike's handle he stops it and then looks at me. And though father and son have the same exact eyes, one look at Chief McAllister's eyes an did want to just run back to my house. Or just be anywhere else rather than being here.
"You're Covalho's daughter aren't you?" he asks.
"Yes sir." He doesn't even need his height to intimidate people. His cold eyes are enough. But the thing is how the hell does he know me?
"What are you doing here?" I get the feeling that I am in an interrogation room.
"It's my house here," I almost stutter and look sideways, anywhere but those black eyes.
"I didn't know that," he smiles. He looks a lot like Novahk when he smiles and I feel myself relaxing a bit. Maybe he's not that bad after all. I am just being paranoid. Many fathers are a bit stern with their kids. And the stuff Novahk does he won't get away unless he's good a cool father. "Nice to meet you, new neighbor. Ad I am glad you got better. Last time I saw you, you were in an hospital bed." Well that explains it but it still doesn't make any sense what he might be doing there.
"Nice to meet you sir." And with that he guides Adam back to the house, still on his bicycle. He looks at me one last time and I wave back. I wish my family could be more like them, instead of being the dysfunctional one.
By the time mom comes back home with all her groceries, it took her more than three hours (she must really trust me), the technician has repaired the alarm system and gone. "Probably got triggered by a cat or maybe it's nothing." He explains. He even agreed to check on all the rooms, though he had a difficult time getting up on the stairs, and when I am finally satisfied no ax murderers are hiding in the closet, waiting for me, is when he leaves.
Mom looks really goofy for some reason. She has this awfully big smile on her face while she hums to her favorite classic.
"Mom is something up?"
"What?" she asks distractedly.
"I asked if something's up?" she stops rolling the dough. We are eating homemade pizza today. How cool is that?
"No nothing." And she blushes, I kid you not. Probably mom and dad have been hooking up again, rendezvousing at a hotel room or at the condo dad got at a newly constructed apartment building. I am glad they're at least not doing the tango here. It's kind of creepy now that I am almost seventeen year old. Not that having sex is a bad thing. No you should. But make sure you are blasting really loud music to hide your deeds so that your children can't hear you. That's better folks.
"What are we watching today?"
"No idea." We are shoulder to shoulder and Novahk is concentrating on finding a movie on Netflix and I am concentrating on smelling him. In a total non creepy way. Boys smell really good. Clean shaven, damp hair boys smell excellent. It's like my pheromones are doing the jango and hip hop mash. We have been watching a movie together for an entire week now.
Not that anything has happened. Not that I want anything to happen. Not that anything will happen till there's a barrier of pillow sitting tightly between us.
"Or on second thoughts let's watch American Psycho. I have heard loads of things about it."
Novahk looks at me and raises a brow and that simple action taken together with the fact that there's only a couple of inches of gap between us makes my heart race. "Let me guess. A girl recommended to you saying hottie with psychopathic tendencies." Actually as a matter of fact, a girl did. On this forum where I go to search for movie recommendations. It turns out there are lots of people like me who can't sleep at night and instead of watching porn prefer to watch good old horror movies. I figure they can' be any worse than my demons. And it's not like unicorns and rainbow helps me sleep. I am a walking contradiction.
"Nightmare on Elm Steet."
"If it's not the reboot one."
"Okay deal." And thhas how we came to watch it with the psychotic Freedie killing off all the children one by one and the ending isn't much of a shocker either.
"Now what?" Novahk asks stretching his arms above him and letting out a big yawn. I barely check myself from giggling. Since when do I giggle.
"Wow. It's twelve thirty. You should go and sleep."
"Where?" he asks smiling at me. Oh my gosh just stop right there. The more he smiles, the more tightly he's wound to my system. And he will leave. I know it. Everybody leaves. Except my parents. Even my memories.
"In your room." I say playing with the loose cotton balls on my sweater so that he doesn't see how his question has unruffled me
"What about you?"
"What about me?" For a moment the way he looks at me, I feel like he sees right through me. And it sets a chain of something rough scraping the bottom of my stomach. The place the butterflies come out of.
"I can't fall asleep before two." He raises a brow and shifts his body so that he's completely facing me. "Is that a thing?" there's concern in his voice
"Yeah," I say ducking my head and flicking my TV off. There's a buzz of static before it goes out. The advantage of being sick and depressed. You get the big and better TV in your personal room.
"Are you insomniac?" No not exactly. I am scared to fall asleep. And I drink lots of coffee. But of course I don't say that out loud.
"So are you leaving?" I ask. Instead of getting off the bed he strokes my hair, softly and barely. I hardly contain my urge to just let my head fall on his shoulder. I have seen mom and dad do that. All the couples on television do that. I wonder how that felt like, sitting so close, hugging, and having this stretching elastic longing in your heart and like circle falling into the dark abyss.
"You hair is so dark," he says absentmindedly.
"Like your eyes," I blurt out and he smiles.
"Goodnight Kris," he says an unexpectedly kisses me on the forehead. The warmth spreads from there all the way to the tip of my toe. "Goodnight Novahk."
"We have a big day tomorrow," he reminds me before ambling out of the window. I have finally decided upon a plan, a very stupid one, albeit but still. Tomorrow I'll be one step closer to finding out why my life is like a spinning electron now, one step closer to untangling a knot in the long length of rope and I have a mountain to climb. But somehow that doesn't feel so overwhelming now that Novahk is here with me.
What we both have is hard to explain. It's friendship and more than that but whatever it is, it makes me open my eyes to a new day unlike the last few months when I felt only dark clouds on my horizon.
"Yes we do."