Quick, religious references. You can skim through them.
Please be respectful and mature and ignore them if you are a nonbeliever or are not fond of it.
Thank you :)
🌺
April Levesque
Aashvi ran after Cami, was there for her, and never considered to check up on me. The former caused me to question her character, and it has done nothing but scar my mind with constant overthinking.
To make matters worse, I sent a couple of of messages — the occasional, hey, hru. How it used to be. She aired my messages. It's abnormal, and she repeated it for days. It didn't take me long to find out she baffingly blocked me on socal media. I confronted her regarding it.
She opened my chats and left me on read. I asked her again the second time, more toughly this time, and she was surprised at the tone and simply said, 'Fuck off.'
Oh, okay.
Fine.
I removed her number. Deleted all of our pictures together. All of our memories. The decisions brought tears to my eyes, because a friendship that last for roughly six years suddenly came to an end.
Ethan went out to be with some friends. Mum is at work, and Nanga is at Nana's house. I would go there, but I want to be alone for the whole day.
I sniff, tossing onto my back and wiping my eyes, then groan as more threatens to surge in sync with the constant overthinking. I haul upright on the bed, and after a while, call Tanner. I wanted to talk to someone, to rant, to be listened to.
He answered, "What do you want?"
"Hello to you too."
He clicked on the video call. The screen revealed the familiar flamboyant ceiling of his room, marked by beautiful carvings and designs, the background a flutter of shuffling. I have never been to his house. He rarely comes to mine. He used to help me with Psychology and practically tutored me for free. Smart young man.
"Are you free to talk?" I ask, hearing a slight crack in my voice.
"Yes. I just finished studying for the Psychology exam." He sighs. "Tell me why I have to learn about fucking Freud again."
"Sons love their mothers because of their breasts," I summarise, not entirely answering his question. "And girls have penis envy."
"I don't understand the point of his existence," he mutters. "Nor why we have to learn theories of a bunch of middle-aged, white men. One of the reasons why the education system is so fucked up. Anyway, enough of that. What do you want to talk about?"
"Aasvhi and Camila."
A pause. Then the camera whips to his curious face, his hair veiled in a bonnet. His surprise is shrieking. "I see ... Is this tea? Gossiping?"
"More like bitching."
He must have heard the slight tremble in my voice. "My cup of tea, baby. Hang on. Let me get my Airpods for that eargasm."
He swiftly searches his room, grumbling where they are.
He leaves his room, opening a door to another one. "Have you seen my Airpods?"
Silence.
Then, "Can you stop barging into my fucking room and knock, for fuck's sake," snaps a voice. Derek.
"I'd say the same to you."
"I always knock."
"No you don't. Now where's my Airpods?"
"Why the fuck would I have your shitty things, Tan?"
"Because you always take my shit, bro."
"Get out."
Tanner kisses his teeth, frustrated.
"Close the door."
Tanner purposely kicks it open.
I hear Derek muttering curses, then slamming it close as Tanner returns to his room, mumbling what a "Stupid fucking cunt" his adopted brother is under his breath.
Sometimes, I wonder how they can get away with that much of cussing. I mean, Dad and Mum would scream at my brothers and me if we ever communicate in that way.
The camera revisits his face subsequent a couple of moments. "Oh, crap," he says, realising he didn't put me on mute. "Sorry, you had to hear that."
"It's fine," I reiterate.
He sheepishly smiles. "I promise you we're not that ..."
"No, I get it. I got a brother, too."
He lays back on his bed. "So tell me what's wrong."
I gushed out, and I was crying so much, that I forgot I was on call with him. "Hey, hey, hey," he assures softly. "Why are you crying over a bitch?"
"She's my best friend," I whisper, wiping my ears. "She's my best friend and all of a sudden she dropped me. What did I do?"
First Roy, now this. What have I done to deserve this?
"You never done anything," said Tanner, and he mumbled a curse in French when he saw a tear leave my eye. "Oh, baby-girl. I wish I was there."
I was he was, too. He gives the best hugs.
"Bad things happen to good people all the time," soothed Tanner. "Just watch. She's going to come back, crawling like a wet dog."
"Why can't she just tell me what I have done?" If I done something horrible, I want to learn from it and be better. A foundation of human nature. That is, if you want to be at peace.
Tanner and Jasmine confronted Aasvhi in school, whilst I was in class. Aasvhi merely rolled her eyes, muttered "I had enough of her", "Have a nice life", and walked off, in a very cocky manner, according to Tanner.
I comprehended several things. For starters, I was there for Aasvhi. Hell, I'd take a bullet her, give her everything, including Camila. She called Mum 'Amma' or 'Aunty', came with us to church, slept at my place when she had issues with her parents arguing, and was even a second daughter. She called me crying, and I was there for her. I called her crying, and she was there for me.
And suddenly, she's gone.
It is the same with Camila.
The change created a bitter whole in my stomach, because this is more worse than Roy's situation.
I lost sisters, best friends, and I never done anything.
It truly is crazy how life changes.
It is the day of the memorial. There are not many guests. My relatives — distant cousins, aunts and uncles, adults I don't know but I still have to call them 'aunty' or 'uncle' — are on sofas, grabbing mouth-watering chicken rolls, cutlets, samosas. Papa (Dad's father) cracks a joke and Yuvaan Uncle, Mum's older brother, laughs next to his wife — Sinhalese, Gayesha Bandara.
It took a year for the Bandaras and Levesques to form a bond. You see, Dad's family were content for him. As long as Dad is happy, it's perfect. Mum's side ... A brown woman with a white man is not a common sight.
They prefer to see their ethnicity in one tight circle.
At first, people instantly assumed Mum married Dad for the money. Little did they know, the harder she worked, the further she got in life. Plus, she's richer than Dad, and Dad doesn't mind — in fact, he's proud of her. She is the first person in the family to study at the University of Cambridge. She was aware of how soul-sucking her family's views on her relationship can be, and sequestered their relationship for a year until Yuvaan Uncle saw them on a date in Cambridge.
Mike's birth mended the pointless tension. Kids solve everything.
Aachchie (Mum's mother. Aachchie means grandmother in Sinhala) sternly vaults an eyebrow. "You better be behaving well in school," she says in Sinhala. "You're turning eighteen soon. Roy boy is gone, so no funny business with those stupid boys who can't pull up their pants properly."
"I know, Aachchie," I say in Sinhala.
I have three cousins: two from Mum's side are adults, Nirash and Dylan Bandara. Dylan Aiya unfortunately couldn't make it as he is busy with University exams. Nirash Aiya is here. Aaron Levesque is Uncle Jett's (Dad's younger brother) son, living in Birmingham, thus we rarely see them.
"Good. Because did you know you can get ill from kisses? Yuvaan! What is it called?"
"Mokadhdha?" What?
"I showed you it the other day. That post on Facebook!"
"STDs?"
The four letters jerked Aaron's attention to me. His lips twist. Nirash Aiya, Theo and Malli turn. I mouth, Help me. Aaron shifts to my aid. Nirash Aiya halts him, no doubt as a tease.
"That's it!" Aachchie smacks my leg. "STDs. Do you know what they are, sudu duwa?"
Sudu duwa: fair daughter.
"Yes, Aachchie—"
"From monkeys!" she exclaims, horrified. "We got them because a man couldn't keep his ants in his pants!"
"Uh, I don't think that's how—"
"These little meddling kids smothering and shoving their tongues in each other's throats." Aachchie shudders, repulsed. "That's why whenever we watch English movies and a kiss scene comes up, I make sure your amma and maamaa are not looking. Don't want them to get any ideas."
They failed. "Aachchie, I don't think you can get STDS from a kiss."
She raised her palm. "You certainly can. Sudu duwa, your beauty is ethereal. That's why I keep having these discussions. I know boys got their eyes on you. Studies come first! Or else—"
"You're sending me to Sri Lanka," I finished. Technically, she cannot, as my parents have the final say, but whatever calms her, I guess.
She chuckles, pinching my cheek. "You know me so well!"
Mum hurries to the door, opening it. Marlene Everston and her nephews enter. The congregation falters into stunned silence. I gander through a nearby window. Three Cadillac Escalades are parked on the sidewalk, women slanting on the sheer blackness and nattering. Yes, Marlene Everston's security is predominantly women. I can remember the ridicules the media of men shouted, and laughed at such a sight, yet witnessing women of all colours, sizes and differences in such power is beautifully soothing.
Aachchie nudges my arm, nodding at the brothers. "Pretty boys," she muses.
Tanner is wondrous, as always. His style is captivating in the sense that it differs from time to time, eager to experiment. A short-sleeved hoary shirt that did little to suppress his broad shoulders, revealing his slim, toned, slightly-muscled arms; formal trousers, a silver, right stud.
Derek's style is beguiling in the sense that it is sophisticated and bland as if craving invisibility, to merge with the shadows, his greatest friend. His shoulders are also broad and strangely comforting. His velvety, jet-black hair is neatly combed, strands plummeting over his glaciers. A dark shirt neatly tucked into matching trousers, the top button undone, exposing his chiselled collarbone; a belt, polished shoes, and glistening on his left wrist is a black-platinum Rolex.
He perceives me at the far back and smiles, catching Tanner's attention who wiggles his fingers in a wave. Theo approaches their line of sight, their grins widening.
In a beam, Marlene embraces Mum. "Thank you for inviting us, love," I hear her say. "Mike was a man of honour."
Mum amiably squeezes Marlene's hands. "Thank you for coming." She glisters to the East Asian man — awfully close to the businesswoman. "Ah, you must be Lin! The man Marlene always gushes about."
Marlene freezes as Tanner snorts. Derek smacks his arm, murmuring "Shut up" with a soft smirk.
Lin arches his eyebrows. "She ... gushes about me?"
"Like a little high-schooler," teases Mum. "You got her wrapped around your finger."
"Jeromi," says Marlene, vaguely blushing.
Mum winks.
"Hi, Aunty," I say.
Marlene turns, magnificent in a sleek dress, diamond earrings, her dark hair loose. Other than her intelligence and remarkable reputation, I wonder if her dire persona is another attribute why she is so powerful, and I wonder if she directed that domination to Derek and Tanner. A sentiment dazzles in her feline eyes, so vehement a shiver writhes my spine.
"April, dear!" I smile, hugging her. She smells like seraphic righteousness. "You're as gorgeous as I remembered." Ethan appears beside me, and Marlene smiles harder, eagerly embracing him. "Ethan, oh, how ravishing and handsome you are!"
Ethan smiles, uncomfortable by her compliments. He doesn't handle compliments well. Gets shy. "Uh, thanks. You look ravishing and hand — beautiful, too."
Marlene caresses Nanga's cheek. "Rose has grown. You might not remember me, dear, but I remembered your first steps." My sister giggles as Marlene kisses her forehead. "I miss you all so much. How long has it been?"
Tanner replies behind her, "Since the funeral."
Marlene sighs. "I'm so sorry. I've just been so preoccupied with work..."
"It's okay," I assure. "Luke checks on us, anyway."
Well ... He hasn't visited Edgewater for several months. It used to be hour-long calls once in a short while. Now, his weekly 'Everything's ok?' messages lessened and lessened, as if suffering in a drought.
"Luke isn't here?" asks Mum.
Marlene saddens. "Sadly, something came up in his work. I'm sorry."
Mum hides the disappointment. "It's okay. He's a busy man like his aunt, no?" Luke is a real estate agent. "Tea? Coffee?"
Marlene and Lin followed Mum into the kitchen. Malli and I approached the Matthews Brothers, Theo and our cousins huddled in a circle.
I am the only girl in my close family. Brothers, all cousins are men, and let's not forget my uncles. Don't get me wrong — they are sweet. If I get hurt, my cousins, siblings, father and uncles would ... not be nice. The other half of the time, they (particularly my brothers and cousins) piss me off so much that I want to tug my hair in frustration. Let's not forget Mike's group of friends are also like brothers to me.
During the first two weeks of dating Roy, I was at the school gates, minding my own business and talking to Roy and another boy when a sudden honk startled us. I spun to see a familiar grey Mercedes G-Wagon and Aiya's malcontent glare.
'Get in,' he snapped in Sinhala, earning curious attention.
He despised Roy with a burning passion. His college Malaysian friend, Zaka Huang was in the back with Malli, snickering. In the passenger seat, Luke twisted his lips in a displeased expression, examining Roy — his first time meeting him.
'I can drop her off,' suggested Roy.
Luke splinted his gaze, irked at his tone. I made a mental note to remind Roy again that sometimes ... he shrieked for a death wish. My family is stubborn, especially when it comes to a boy.
Ethan smirked as he munched his burrito like popcorn. Mike compressed his hold on the wheel. 'Was I talking to you, kid?'
I sighed. Damn brothers. 'I'll see you later.'
Roy clenched his jaw, and muttered, 'I don't like your brother.'
'I don't like you either,' remarked Mike, and he spun to his friends. 'Did I tell you the dumbfuck never bought her flowers on the first date?'
Luke raised his brows, and once again raked Roy from head to toe. My gut implied he was beginning to plan Roy's end. Damn the friends of my brother.
'It was a one-time thing,' argued Roy. 'I get her some now.'
'Because he pointed it out,' said Ethan.
Mike sardonically chuckled. 'Boys these days. Got no brain cells at all.' To me in Sinhala, 'Get in the car, Nanga. We gotta pick up Kais.'
I bristled. Makayla should be here. Hell, her common sense and tenderness is tolerable, regardless if I appreciate the frequent reminder that I have rigid backup. 'I want to revise at his house—'
'No,' they snapped in sync.
I folded my arms. 'Why not?'
Zaka drawled, 'Boys are boys.'
'Unless he's gay,' mumbled Luke. 'That's alright.'
Roy's eye twitched in the offence.
'We got the barbecue to set up, too,' said Mike. It was rather boiling that day.
'Then Roy should come—'
'No,' cut Mike. 'He's not family. Sure as hell won't be when I'm dead either.'
I whipped to Malli for assistance. He carelessly shrugged, unbothered. I groaned, turned, sweetly and hastily kissed Roy on the lips, and got in the car. Luke handed me a caramel frappe Starbucks drink. 'Thanks,' I said as Mike veered off the school's driveway.
'The kid seems nice,' joked Zaka.
Mike's elbow on the ledge, he placed his head on his palm, and sighed loudly.
In the present, Nirash Aiya and Aaron swiftly introduce themselves. Nirash Aiya — chubby; thick, lavish curls and thick lashes; the same height as Ethan; a dark-almond skin tone. He holds out his arms. "Let me have Rosie." Ethan reluctantly obliges, and Nanga coos at her older cousin, her arms locking his neck.
Tanner hugs me. "Are you okay?"
I smile at the indirect connotation of Aasvhi and Camila, and nod.
"Good, because you better not ruin that mascara, hoe, or we gon' have problems." He eyes Ethan, mildly smirking. "You as well, amour." I frown as Malli gradually reddens, concealing it in a warning cough. Derek and Theo exchange a knowing look. Tanner flickers to Rose, sweetly smiling. "Especially this little angel. Fine people don't cry."
"That's why you'd never see this whole family emotional." Aaron flaps the collar of his buttoned-up shirt. Tall, honey-fair skin, floppy brown hair. "We're so fine, that the people love us."
"Very," I agree.
Aaron purses his lips in disgust. "Did you just call me hot, Ape?"
"Never in a million years."
"Ape?" reiterates Tanner.
"She looks like an ape," clarifies Nirash Aiya.
"Hence why everyone in this family is hot, except her," adds Aaron.
Theo bursts into hysterical laughter, and Derek widens out an amused smile.
I scoff for the millionth time, "I do not look like an ape."
The boys ignore me, as always.
"One time I thought I saw a guy in her bedroom," says Ethan, "and I was ready to box him up. Then I realised it was just Akki without makeup."
My jaw drops to the floor.
Derek's shoulders shake in hushed laughter. Tanner swiftly covers his mouth, snorting, triggering Rose's endearing giggles. Theo cackles harder like a hyena, ensnaring my aunts and uncles to glimpse at us in bewilderment, wondering what on earth are a bunch of teenagers find amusing in a memorial.
"That's—That's a violation," stutters Theo, struggling to breathe and grasping onto Tanner for support as he tries to calm down, an arm swathing his aching abdomen.
Aaron cups his mouth and whispers, "You're an ape, Ape."
"You're so rude!" I remark for the millionth time. "And that's sexist, Malli!"
"It is," agrees Derek.
"Why are you laughing, then!"
Derek holds up his palms like I don't know!
"Sorry," says Malli.
Nirash Aiya composed himself. "He's not sorry."
"I'm not sorry."
An aunty called Nirash Aiya. He gives Rose to Aaron and leaves, but Rose has other plans. She grabs onto Tanner's collar, surprising him, although he quickly registers and pulls her into an embrace, her small legs half-locking his midriff. Rose eyes his jewellery in an intrigued gleam, shyly caressing it.
"Anyway," says Malli, "what's up with Luke?'
"I don't know," admits Derek. He is scented by rich cologne, of paramount basil, mint and mandarin — it stings my nose. "Luke might not want to be overwhelmed by this. Maybe that's why he didn't come."
"He asked Thomas to—"
Derek elbows Tanner's chest.
"Ow! The hell!"
Rose giggles.
Derek glares at him. "You wonder why no one tells you secrets."
Tanner rubs the side of his chest. "I can keep a secret!"
"What secret?" I say.
"Nothing," they both reply.
"Okay ..."
"Anyway," says Tanner. "Roy is not here, right?"
"I broke up with him a week ago. Of course, he won't be here." During that time, his patience is hanging on a frail thread, itching to punch Roy. Honestly, the conversations between Roy and me have dried up. I wonder if Roy is beginning to question our decision — if he can see me through the lie.
"Good," mutters Theo.
"He's a prick." Aaron looks at me. "Makayla made that group chat to diss him."
Tanner's eyes sparkled. "Can I be added to that? Would love to join the roast."
Aaron's lips twist. "Yeah, sure. I found a picture of Roy with a moustache—"
"He had a moustache?" horrified Theo.
All the boys whip to me in unison. Even Rose holds out a palm at me like, Sis, what?
Derek stares at me. "You are just ..."
"A weird ape," suggests Theo.
"A weird ape," agrees Derek.
Great, now they're never going to let the rude nickname go.
"You're taste in men," spites Tanner, shaking his head. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I advise you to get therapy."
"Makayla circled it and said it looks ugly," adds Ethan, snorting.
Aaron scratches his brown hair. "What the hell was Roy thinking when he got that?"
Theo shakes his head, tsking. "Ape, you need some help."
"That's what I said," mutters Ethan.
I scowl at my brother. "You never said that."
"I said it in my head."
"You could've gone for an ape ..." teases Aaron, "... Ape."
"Someone that fits into your category of an ape," joins Nirash Aiya.
"That's rare to find," mocks Derek, smirking.
"Hmm," hums Aaron. "True. She's the only ape on this planet."
Tanner aggressively puts an arm around me and yanks me to his side, earning a yelp. "Y'all don't hurt my hoe like that—"
"Thank you," I said.
"—Only I can."
"Nevermind."
"No, seriously, what were you thinking when you got with that guy?" pesters Aaron.
"She's delusional," says Derek, light-heartedly.
"You've realised that now?" says Ethan.
"He hurt you," says Theo. "That's why you were crying that night, right? Man, if I'd known back then, would've busted the blondie dead when I had the chance."
"What, you into boys with anger issues or something?" says Tanner. "Cos, girl, plenty of that in the sea and you chose the fake-ass-looking Ken doll."
"The ugliest Ken doll," says Ethan.
"The ugliest," emphasises Aaron.
"If toxic boys are your type, I'll pray for you," Derek says.
"You're an atheist," Theo says.
"Exactly my point."
"Like you're not toxic," I retorted to Derek. That comeback is dead. I don't know Derek well enough to comment on that.
"I have no anger issues—"
"Yeah, right."
Derek shoots Tanner a glare. "I have no anger issues. Only mommy and daddy issues. Well, dead mommy and daddy issues."
"Especially dead daddy issues."
Ethan swings an arm around me. "We got dead-bro issues."
"I got bi issues," says Tanner. "I'm all bi myself."
"I got no issues," Theo says.
"Same," says Aaron, and he smacks his hands with the Mexican.
Tanner stares down at Nanga. "You don't ever look up to your big sis, Rosie. She's not a good role model. You ever got boy problems, you come to me—" He presses a palm on his chest. "Your big bro—" He waves a hand at Malli. "Your big cousins, or my bro. Okay?"
Rose swims her confused stare, but mumbled incoherently, "Okay."
Suddenly, the doorbell rings. Malli opens the door and Kaison's godfather steps through the entryway, harshly brushing his enamelled shoes on the mat, darkening the ambience of the room. A halter-white sweater and trousers. His clean-shaven face is flushed-red from the cold. He gives off one final shiver before the door closes.
"Luke?" says Tanner.
The twenty-eight-year-old looks at the sound of his name. His smile reaches his eyes. "Little brothers!" He spreads out his arms, and only Tanner hugs him.
Luke Matthews possesses sinistrous, majestic attractiveness. He has serpent tattoos on his arms, snaking his chest, ending at the collarbone. On his fingers are clubs, clovers, hearts, diamonds, spades. On his back, a skull. Below his right ear, on his neck, is Kaison's name. Wide shoulders, his brown ambers glow like ambers beneath the lights.
Fixating on Malli and me, he spreads out his arms, and I reflect on his smile in a hug. "It has been a long time since we last saw each other."
"Very long," I say.
He leans back, hands on my shoulders, taking my appearance. "You look so beautiful, sweetheart." I sheepishly smile, my cheeks flushing. Is it weird if I mention that I used to find Luke handsome ... I mean: tall, svelte, fit, tattoos, darkly sweet vibe ... Then I remember he's eight years older and, well, he's not really a dad. But Mike was a dad, and Mike was his best friend, so to me, Luke is a dad. Does that make sense?
Luke hugs Ethan next, patting his back. "You're almost my height." Luke smiles at Nanga, briefly astonished. "And this dove grew up so much." Rose breaks out into an adorable, toothy grin, and Luke presses a tender kiss on her forehead. "I couldn't recognise her."
Mum returns to the living room with Marlene and Lin. "Luke! I'm glad you're here!"
"Aunt Jermoi," he greets, smiling and embracing her. "You know I can't go a day without having a drink for Mike."
"As long as you're here, everything will feel normal," says Mum.
"Uncle Luke!" Kaison squirms through the maze, leaping onto his godfather.
We all smile as the multi-billionaire staggers and stabilises, guffawing. He properly heaves the five-year-old into his arms. "God, you're getting heavy."
Kaison eagerly locked his arms around Luke's neck for a tight embrace. "I miss you so much!"
Luke smiles, pleased, and pecks his forehead. "I miss you, too, buddy. Excited to see me more than everyone else?"
Kaison flashes his adorable teeth. "Always!"
"What about me?" Ethan holds his arms out, frowning. I think he's actually offended.
Kaison presses his cheek to Luke's in a much more compressed hug. "Luke gives me better presents and hugs."
Aaron whistles. "Damn, that gotta hurt."
"I gave you a Captain America action figure!" said Ethan.
"I introduced him to Chris Evans," Luke fights back.
Kaison nods giddily. "I met Captain America!"
"That's right, Ethan." Luke smirks, cherishing his flex. My brother rolls his eyes. "You gave him a Captain America action figure, but because of me he met the Captain America."
I smile. This is cute.
"Can I call Iron Man from your phone?" Kaison pats Luke's chest, diving into a blazer pocket, withdrawing a phone.
Before Kaison dials the celebrity's number, Luke gently tugs the phone away. "Later, Kais. Where's your mother?"
***
I don't know how many speeches there will be. I won't be part of it, not confident enough or else I'll break all over again. I'd rather listen. Malli is to my left, I sit next to Marlene, her nephews behind. She gratefully takes Rose onto her lap.
I wish they bought their dogs.
Luke places Kaison on Fadhili Otieno and stands in the front, gaping at his sheet of paper. He glimpses sideways at the large screen. A club. Mike, Luke and their friends were eighteen, in their first months of university, holding beer bottles and grinning.
He returns to the dead-silent crowd. "I'm Luke," he begins. "Luke Matthews and ... Mike and I went to the same secondary school, Edgewater Independent. We were in the same form and sat next to each other. For the first ten encounters, I got along with him better than anyone in my life — my parents, my aunts and uncles. You name it. It didn't take me long to ascertain that I wanted us not to be friends but brothers. You see, society clung to me for fame. Mike was different. He didn't give a damn about validation. I suppose that's why Mike was so frabjous to be around. He was perceptive, prudent, easy to get along with."
Luke scours the assembly, searching for someone. "I was never perfect, and truthfully, I'm still not." He humorlessly chuckles. "It's challenging to be a relatively decent person, especially when fate assigns you to brutal responsibilities ... It shoves in this melancholic hopelessness sometimes, this fear, and you have no choice but to be a haughty bastard.
"Mike was compassionate, and ..." Luke's brows tweak together in a hesitant frown. The screen shifts to an image of twenty-year-old Aiya, in a hospital bed beside Zaka, both embroidered in tubes. Mike donated his kidney as Zaka was suffering from a disease. "And baffling people require compassion, so I learnt a lot from him. How to be benevolent, to respect others, to respect and love myself — which I believed was impossible. Nonetheless, regardless that I am a sceptic—" He raises an arm to: "—as my aunt said many times, Mike was truly a saint. His golden aptitude, his everlasting faith, crowned him as the worthy, faultless testimony of possibility. He once told me, 'We have to rationalise ourselves. Because in a universe like this, in a universe of marvel and creations, how can you believe that this or that is impossible? You can change your limitations. All it takes is hard work, trust and patience.'
"In other words, he taught me anything was possible. I depended on him more than anyone. And to your question, no, I'm not gay." Mike's friends were the first to laugh. "He's everything you'd want in a person. But I didn't feel anything romantic with him."
"Yeah, right," jokes Zaka. "Get out the closet, Luke."
The audience laughs again. I would, too, but sudden merry memories trigger a subtle, tremulous exhale. How good times make you weep. Marlene tenderly grasps my hand in comfort. The screen veers to Mike's eighteenth Christmas. I was on a sofa, Nana and Papa's cat on my lap. Nana laughed as Mike twirled her in an exalting dance, intoning the lyrics of Last Christmas.
"Fun fact," continues Luke, "I was the one to introduce Mike to Makayla. So, Kay, love, where's my thanks?"
My sister-in-law smiles as the screen alters, showing their wedding. It was an extravagant, private experience. Gold-and-white sarees; a suit. In the outdoors, the venue had a canopy of flowers and streaming lights. The groom sliced the sublime red velvet cake, feeding to his bride with a huge smile.
Out of the blue, the mood twisted. A sorrowful video of four-year-old Kaison shoved the door open. With one arm, Makayla hauled Kaison to the bed and he crawled to his father sleeping on his chest, patted his cheek. 'Dad! Dad! Wake up!' His dad opened one eye, and quickly closed it after. Kaison narrowed his gaze. 'I know you're awake.'
Mike faked a horrible snore.
'Mike,' said Makayla. Aiya smirked into the pillow.
'Let's tickle him,' encouraged Kaison in a whisper. 'He is being rude now.'
Aiya muffled a chuckle. Makayla momentarily hesitated and slanted to tickle his neck, but he seized her fingers. Makayla squealed as he towed her onto the bed. The screen whitened in the sheets, clearing a second after to reveal Mike's sleepy, affectionate gaze.
'Morning,' he said, voice raspy and husky. Burn marks beautified his right cheek. This was seven months ago, when he returned for a break. He tossed onto his back, waved at Kaison, discerned and frowned at something in Kaison's hand. 'What's that?'
Kaison shoved the envelope into Mike's bare chest. 'Happy Father's Day!'
Mike blinked and glanced at a calendar on a wardrobe. He opened the envelope and withdrew a stunning, endearing card.
'Do you like it?' asked Kaison as Mike read his son's scruffy handwriting. Our hearts warm and wrenches. 'I made it! I didn't ask momma to help me this time.'
A huge smile, dimples popped. Mike lowered the card. 'No. I don't like it.' Kaison's beam collapsed. Mike winked. 'I love it.' Kaison's dimples popped in a grateful, elated smile. My brother spread out his arms. 'Come here, big guy.' He looked at his wife behind the camera. 'You too, baby.'
His world in his arms.
"Kaison—" Luke looks at Mike's son "—when you were born, it was the best day of your dad's life. He was definitely terrified to be a father. But the moment he held you for the first time—" Luke gestures holding a baby "—he cried like a madman." He flickers to his group of friends. "Do you remember?"
"He was so terrified to hold you," says Zaka to Kaison. "Like, he asked six nurses to be near him just in case. But, yeah, he cried like crazy."
"He kept telling us," says Fadhili, "'Look at him, man. Look at him. We made him. Can you believe that? We made this little guy.'"
"If your mother went to work ..." Luke shared a crazy smile with his friends. "You had the babysitters."
Fadhili nudges Makayla's shoulder. "Pretty sure we gave you a heart attack."
"A lot of times," mumbles Makayla, shaking her head in a smile.
The screen shifts. One was of a video of Mike throwing a cheese slice onto twelve-month-old Kais's face. The second was of Zaka throwing a tittering Kais up in the air and catching him. The fourth was Fadhili, who was doing his masters in chemical engineering, in his seminar. Yes, the majority of the time, Kais's playground was the college campus. The whole class adored it. Even the professor occasionally gifted Kais a toy each time he visited.
The fifth: Fadhili recording and catching two-year-old Kais sneakily consuming several chocolate bars. 'Oh, you're screwed,' mumbled Fadhili under his breath. 'Mike, check your man out.'
'What?' called Mike and he walked up behind Fadhili. 'Kais!' he snapped, absorbing his son's chocolate-smeared hands and bare chest. Kais froze and glanced up. Mike stormed and tenderly seized the sweets. 'Your momma says no, I say no. You understand?'
Kais's lips trembled, tears surging. He stared at Fadhili for help. 'Your pops say no, I gotta say no.'
The poor baby broke into cries. Luke stormed into the kitchen. Kais eagerly ran to Luke, knowing for a fact Luke would do anything, and spread out his arms. Luke absorbed the mess and gave in, lifting him into his tattooed arms. 'Come on,' he argued to Mike. 'Let him have it.'
'No. Once a week, remember?'
Luke glared and wiped Kais's eyes. 'I'll get you ice cream tomorrow,' he whispered. Kais stopped blubbering at the promise, hiccupping.
The sixth: this time, it was Luke recording Zaka, Fadhili and Mike taking four-year-old Kaison on a walk in the park. There was a costume event. Kais was dressed in a box for some reason. He tripped and fell face-first onto the grass. Thankfully, the box concealed his face.
'Ow!' Kaison complained.
Zaka halted, confused and shocked, glared at the grass as if it's nature's fault. Mike, the splendid dad, wheezed a silent laugh in the midst of a hunch, infecting Luke and Fadhili into a hysterical cackle.
'Shit dad you are,' muttered Zaka, and the men silently laughed even harder, tears springing. 'Makayla would bust your flat ass.'
Mike snorted like a pig as Kaison squirmed on the ground, 'Dad, help me!'
Mike inhaled a deep breath, cleared his throat, and lowered to assist his son. 'You—you okay?'
Instinctively, Kaison leaps off Fadhili's lap, sprints and cautiously hugs his mother, whimpering, 'It's okay, momma. Don't cry, momma. I miss Daddy, too, but Daddy doesn't want you to cry!"
Makayla cries harder at his words, embracing Kaison so tightly.
"Daddy is with Jesus!" assures Kais, his miniature hands wiping his mother's wet cheeks. He kisses her forehead — like father, like son. "So he's alive, momma!" Kais appears proud of that statement. "Yes. Daddy is alive. He's alive in our hearts!"
Luke firmly presses his lips together at his godson's choice of words. With a white sleeve, Luke mops his face, his agony trekking to his tattooed fingers. Luke beholds the audience. "When I heard he was shot dead ..." An inhale, prickly and hard.
I fought back the tears as I stared at Mike's picture. It feels like he's smiling at me. It's like he's trying to say, Shh, don't cry. I'm here. I'm here.
Stop this, Mike.
Stop this.
You're not here.
You're dead.
"I lost a part of me," confesses Luke. "He wanted to be in the army and I fucking hated it — Shit — Excuse me. Sorry." He rakes his dark muss, clearing his throat. "I tried everything to convince him not to join because, in war, the worst happens. Only the worst. He told me, 'Relax, I'll be fine. I'll come back, limbs attached. I know you're scared, but when we're old grandpas with ugly pot bellies and grandchildren, we won't even remember this.' I see his promise as wish fulfilment and wish fulfilment is betrayal. But ... I, too, somehow believe in eternal life. So I solemnly promise that until my own deathbed, Mike, you will be commemorated forever. For now, until we meet again. Rest in peace. You deserve it, mate."
Light-headed, the colour in my face drained, the blood dropped to my cold feet. Mum was next. I cannot listen any longer. All Mum will say is how she couldn't conceive for years, but a moment of prayer with seven-year-old Mike was a miracle, the type of story that will no doubt make the religious aunties smile. She'd say how Mike wanted to be a stay-at-home Dad and watch Kais grow.
When Mum took the microphone, I mumbled "Excuse me", grasped Papa's cat, and silently mosey through the horde and ascended to my bedroom. The glow-in-the-dark-stars were Mike's idea — I was always scared of the dark. Mike put them here for me to peacefully slumber. It worked. They're enchanting — like fireflies, like literal stars.
On my bed, Mr Whiskey abruptly purs, his rumbling frame somewhat tranquilising my pessimism. I smile down at him, threading my fingers through his white fur. "I miss him," I mumble.
Mr Whiskey slowly blinks in response, his purs heightening, and he brushes his head against my chest, snuggling for a heart-melting hug.
I was tempted to make another deal. I'm so eager to exchange my soul for his. He has to be alive. Mike deserves to live a prosperous life. He had a purpose. I don't.In April, the day when Mike finished his contract, he was supposed to come home. Permanently. He had the chance to be free. He had the chance to never miss out on memories with his son and unborn daughter, to grow old with us. He could've never died.
I laid in my bed that day, my eyes glued to the glow-in-the-dark-stars splattered across the ceiling. For hours, I was waiting patiently. Not long ago, the tolerance expired, eager to hear that sound to know Mike's finally home. I wanted to dash downstairs and crash into my older brother, like a little child who lost her teddy bear.
Ding! A storm clouded the sky. I screeched, full of glee, as I bolted upright, scrambled off the sheets, hastened down the hallway. My foot brushed the first, highest platform of the staircase. I excitedly descended solely to stop when I perceived who was at the door.
It was my father and another man — Middle-Eastern with olive skin. Grieving in their uniforms. Rose was asleep. Mum and Ethan were crying. Dad's watery eyes met mine. I froze on the last step.
'What's wrong?' I finally asked after a moment of silence.
Mum looked at me. Eyes drenched, tears dripped. 'April.' It came out as a croaked, whispering sob.
'Mum? What is it? Why are you all crying?'
Traumatic shock overwhelmed Mum to let alone stutter. Ethan and Dad won't look at me.
The unknown man cleared his throat. 'You're Mike's little sister,' he said with an accent. 'April, is it?'
'Yes ...'
He sighed, miserable. 'April,' he began. 'I don't know how to say this ... I'm sorry, your brother passed away.'
Silence. Deafening silence. Words are bullets. Sharper than knives. The ambience lurking in the house was thick with misfortune. The birds at our little birdhouse paused their divertimento. I stumbled and clenched onto the railing. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shout. I wanted to punch something, hurt something, hurt myself. I clamped a hand over my mouth, muffled the agonised blubbers. The pain gushed out.
I sprinted upstairs and slammed the door shut. Grief and wretchedness. The dilemma is that these two sentiments, these fatal viruses, fused and created an emptiness in my chest. The fire spreads until ashes are clogged, slaughtering anything in its way and anything not in its way. The manipulation and assassination of thieving positivity, thieving a sense of rationality.
A stygian abyss, the deafening silence, invaded the room, confined the light and hurled it away, allowing the darkness to enter. I drowned, drowned and drowned in a sea of blood, sweat and tears. Lungs hewed. A stomach of stitches. My head throbbed as I hammered it onto a wall, salty tears frenziedly flowed.
So this is what life truly feels like.
I fell to the carpet, face submerged in hands. The woe was roaring. Relief, comfort and peace denied me joining the angelic intonation, and endorsed this pain to neglect me. Why did he have to leave? Why did he even go? I wish he stayed here, in Edgewater, and aspired to another career like a biochemist.
My eyes settled on a shiny object, glistened under my pillow. I've been self-harming for two months. People just hate me, you know? Mike found out, and helped me to stop the temptation. I was successful for a couple of weeks ...
Don't. It's bad. It's wrong—
I approached the purple scissors. The sharp blades sinisterly sparkled in the darkness, Satan trying to flirt. I hacked my arms. Over and over. Again. Again. Again. Gallons and gallons of blood trickled down my tingling, numb skin, as thin as the veins, as thick as fingers. Head light, stung limbs. I slid to the floor, head rolled against the wall, and the elysian darkness was my closest friend. No hope, might as well drown and sink deeper.
So hollow, I wanted to die.
In the present, I shamefully stare at my scars. I held a Bible and vowed to Mike I will never do it again. I keep my promises. When I broke it a thousand times, the fires were cackling, seething closer. When I broke it a thousand times, I felt as if I killed someone.
Mike meant a lot to me. He looked out for me. Defended me from pain. He encouraged me to try things that I haven't done — sky-diving, bungee-jumping, swimming with sharks. He was the only one who cared. The only one who loved me. He made us feel alive. He was so brave. He hated the excruciating burn marks and thought it horrified his appearance. We loved it because the discolour gloriously marked his valiance. It was the holy mark of the last days.
He could have saved himself. But he heard it got worse in Syria. He chose to leave. For a month, he promised. They need more men and women.
Mike died saving a kid from getting shot.
Three bullets were in his chest.
The shooter was a terrorist.
After his death, my whole family changed. Dad is barely at home. I grew distant and made a daily routine to trap myself in my room. Ethan goes to sessions for anger management. Mum sweetly prays with a rosary. Luke used to frequently check up on us, mostly on Makayla and Kaison. Recently, he, too, has been getting distant, and his demeanour has changed ... He seems darker, despite the white.
Every day, I always ask myself this one, small question that doesn't always seem to have an answer: Why is life so unfair?
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