O B L I V I O N
"The key to being happy is knowing you have the power to choose what to accept and what to let go." ~ Dodinsky.
***
"Josh! Please you don't understand. The kids are watching." She trembled as her husband held her petite shoulders with his eyes filled with rage.
"Really? That's all you're concerned about now? That's all you worry about? The kids watching?" He screamed.
"Kids, look at what your bastard of a father is doing!" She shrieked as she felt his pointy fingers now digging into her waist with hatred.
"Hell with you Cheryl. I bring up anything with the business and you give me this!"
"Josh, You're hurting me! Let go!" She cried in his tight grip.
"Answer me, god damn it!"
"I just don't like it! I wish there was something else we could talk about! But there isn't. Ever since we made our first million, our life isn't the same anymore. We aren't the same anymore Josh. More than our adventures, we end up arguing about money. We don't live!" She yelped as his grip became tighter.
"Oh Cheryl. I'm so sick of you and your adventures! We were kids then, now we have other priorities!"
"But that's not what my definition of happiness is Josh." She sighed. "This is not my happiness."
"What do you mean?" His voice cracked. His grip becoming weak as his racing thoughts dominated him.
"I guess we are not the same. I guess we were not meant to be. Maybe you were just another experience in my life that I got carried away with." She started rambling, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead.
"Sweetie... No...No... You are not saying this right now. We are supposed to be together. Don't Cheryl. What about the kids?" His voice lined with something their six year old kids had never heard in his voice before. Fear.
"I'm sorry. But I have to get out of here. We cannot go on fighting like this. This isn't what I want." She managed to escape from his tight grip as she started her frantic packing.
"Cheryl... please don't leave. The solution is not by running away, my dear." He wiped away the tears that now cascaded down his face.
"I'm not running away Josh. I am living. For us. For the kids. I am moving on. To find my happiness." She smiled weakly at him.
"And you want to run. Always." He whispered. His blue eyes becoming blurry with his tears.
"I want to run. And never stop." She smiled, her cheeks glistening with her fresh tears. "Because happiness isn't here. In this hellhole. This city. Any city."
"I am guessing that you are taking the kids away from me." he sighed, his breath shaky. He inhaled a sharp breath.
"Yes. I cannot let their minds get polluted by the city." She huffed, as she continued to pack the bags with her salty eyes.
"Cheryl. They will need me." He cried. "I need them."
"I'm so sorry Josh." She kissed her husband softly. "But we have to go."
"Come on kids. Let's go." she sighed as she picked up the bags and pulled her daughter out with her. "Son, come fast."
He walked slowly out of his big city house. Uncertain. Unsure. But he trusted his mother. He knew that the ship was sinking. He knew it would happen some day. But not now. Not so soon. Not in this very hour. He knew that it was probably right to run away, far away, from all this now, than later. But he was scared. He was a child.
The son turned around towards the door, his father looking weak and heartbroken. Confused. Josh locked his eyes with his son's. A small smile forming on his face as he saw his little boy in front of him. None of them said anything to each other. They didn't know what to say. They couldn't say good bye. It was too much to take. So they just drank each other's presence till their stomach started to hurt. Their eyes becoming whirlpools of emotions that they could not name.
***
I never go to say goodbye to him. I was unable to understand what to back then. It's been exactly eleven years now. And I still don't know why. What happened. Why it happened. I still don't know what I felt. And it haunts me sometimes. All the time.
My mother was never happy with dad, as far as I remember. She was always down, at work, at home everywhere. Except when we would all go for treks and camps. She would go crazy being with all the trees and the fast rapids in the rivers. She would forget our presence. It's like as if the whole world used to disappear when she was out into the wild. No one to judge, no one to yell, no one to oppose. Just her, out in the wilderness. I guess that's what she meant by happiness. Her rebellion was her happiness.
I don't remember much of my mother and father when we were in the city. They would go to work before we woke up and would be back after we ate our dinner. Our breakfast, lunch, snacks, and dinner would all be ready in advance. We used to walk to preschool every day. Even on our first. Me and Lacey, walking hand in hand, as we mentally prepared ourselves to enter a new world.
We never were our parent's first priority. Even though we were. Our parents never had the time to care. They would make arrangements. But when time called for both of them, they were missing in action. I guess that's what money makes you. Lifeless. Careless. Selfish. But full of resources.
I think mom knew that. Which is probably why she decided to leave. With us. To live far away. To be happy.
All the excuses my parents made, the denial and the tension in the house turned all the truth in my life to nothing but a lie. Nothing seemed real to me. Nothing seemed true to that blue eyed six year old boy. The world had become a staged act to me and my mother. Which I still think is true. So we moved out of there.
"Hey kiddo. It's like 2 in the night. Let's get you home." An old man snaps me out of my thoughts. I can't really tell how he looks. But judging the smell of his hot breath, I do know he loves ginger beer. Just like dad.
"It's fine sir. Thank you." I turn around to look at the calm sea.
"Son, we need to get you out of here. It's getting really cold and it's not safe for you to be here. Where do you live?"
"Far away. It's fine. Thank you anyway." He says simply.
"Judging by the size of your backpack, you seem to be goin' somewhere. How long have you been away from home?" He asks sitting next to me on the cold sand. Well... I guess he is as stubborn as me.
"About two or three weeks."
"You on your own or with your family?" He asks before grunting as he slowly stretched his old legs in front of him.
"On my own sir." This old man seems harmless. He seems friendly too, I guess.
"Wow... You seem to be a brave young man." He chuckled softly. His eyes slowly following mine to admire the sight in front of me.
I think my eyes are getting used to this darkness now. A blur figure of this old gentleman is now forming in front of my eyes. He has slightly hunched shoulders. He was a tall man. The chilly wind was flowing in his receding hair.
"My names Harold. Harold Franz."
"Wesley. Wesley Hunt." I say as I shake his hand in the dark. His hands are warm and frail. filled with so much character. Just like my grandpa. I haven't spoken to him ever since we left. Don't think I can now either. I don't think he could hold on for that long.
"So where are you headed Wes?" He asks as he lay down on his back. His body sinking into the cold sand.
"The city." I say simply.
"Oh." is all he says. "How old are you anyway?" He turns his head slightly towards me.
"Sixteen." I smile. "Seventeen actually. It's my birthday today."
"Well then, Happy birthday son." He chuckled again. "What about your family though? Wouldn't they want to wish you?"
I remain silent.
Wesley remained silent as he watched his parents fought. It was his birthday, a Friday. He and his sister stepped out of their rooms in their new clothes, their gifts and wore big smiles that went perfectly with their bright clothes. They walked into the living room just in time to hear their parents fight. Their smiles turned upside down after that incident. And ever since, they never celebrated their birthdays. They convinced themselves that there wasn't any happiness in it. They did not want things, gifts, objects, presents. They did not want toys or dolls or games. They wanted love, from their parents. But they got it. So what's left to celebrate?
"Hey sonny, you okay?" I feel a small tap on my shoulder.
"Yeah... I guess." I sighed softly.
I did not want them. I did not need them. I just needed to find happiness. My happiness. I am just currently lost in oblivion. What am I feeling? What is it? Why do I feel angry when I'm on my journey to happiness? Why am I anxious when I know what I'm doing? Why am I frustrated with myself when I know that what I'm doing must be done?
"Wesley, what if I come with you to the city huh? I have nothing much to do anyway." he laughs humourlessly.
Wesley was feeling that same sick feeling that he felt when he left his father. He was still as confused as he was back then. He still did not know if he was doing the right thing. The voice of his echoed father in his ears as Harold called out for Wesley.
"Yes Harold. That would be great. Thank you."
As that small six year old boy slowly turned towards his mother and sobbing sister, waiting for him, his father said something softly, only for the both of them to hear.
"You are just like your mother." He chuckled. "I know how stubborn you two are. I guess this is a goodbye then." He wiped the tears off his cheeks.
"Happiness is all about sharing Wesley. It's all about being there and fighting for happiness, together. Don't forget that."
Following a random old man to his shady car,
Wesley.
++++
Time: 2:45 am (I think.)