THREE SIMPLE WORDS
Prologue
“And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline’s story
While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answer the wail of the forest.”
(lines 1397-1400) –Evangeline, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Mother’s warm breath ghosted across my ear as she read. She flipped the worn, tea-colored page, reached the last one, and gently closed the vintage tome. Her slender fingers slid down the dark leather surface, as she traced each golden letter of Longfellow’s tragedy, E-v-a-n-g-e-l-i-n-e. Mother set the book aside on to the spacious bed, where she laid next to me, wrapped in maroon silk sheets. Her delicate fingers began to comb my wavy hair, which shimmered with the warmth of milk chocolate in the dim light. These fingers gently defined each of my curls, and made their way down to my cheeks. Warmth and love were palpable in her touch, yet her fingers themselves felt as cold as ice. As she caressed my skin, her fingers brought shivers down my back.
Her gorgeous dark firewood eyes gave me a somber look and my celadon green eyes instantly become a prisoner to hers. I was entranced by my own mother’s beauty. She was a stunning woman, with all the exoticness of her Japanese roots and the elegance of her French roots. At the moment, her face was bare of makeup, only her lips stained of red wine. She had gorgeous hooded eyes with feathery black eyelashes. Her beautiful, ebony black hair framed her delicate face and cast shadows underneath her high cheekbones. Her snow-white complexion was perfect.
Mother’s cold body snuggled against mine. I could see how solemn she seemed. Mother traced my lips with an ethereal finger, her face close to mine, and whispered, “Evangeline, could you give your poor mother a kiss?”
I soundlessly responded by nodding obediently. She softly placed her red lips onto mine; her hair cascaded onto my body like sheets of black silk. It was a perfect motherly moment, yet tears began to stream down my face. At that very moment, it was as if I could feel every ounce of my mother’s pain. My mind escaped from reality and entered a realm of darkness. My body became frigid, my tears and beads of sweat began to soak my satin nightgown. High screeches of screams began ringing through my ears, sharp pains plagued me, and though I’d never known it, I longed for death. Little by little, my vision came back and I saw a strange, relieved expression on mother’s face – that of one who’s suffering had been temporarily alleviated.
She held my crying face with both hands and asked, concerned, “Are you in pain, darling?”
I choked out my words, “No, mommy. I’m fine.” I could never tell mother my real feelings. If I told her that I was hurting every time she kissed me; she would never kiss me again. Then she wouldn’t love me anymore. I soon asked her, “Mommy, why are you so sad? Are you in pain?”
Mother responded, “No darling, as long as you only kiss Mother; all of my pain will go away.”
I smiled, feeling glad that I could assuage my mother’s pain. Our routine continued: going to her room, her reading Evangeline, and exchanging kisses before I slept. Each day Mother was in pain and so was I.
One day I heard a raucous crash coming from my mother’s bedroom. As I creaked through the dreary hallway, I was led to the lit room at the end. I felt a cold chill run down my spine, causing the hairs of my arms to stand on their ends. Once I approached the light at the end of the hallway, I saw tablets scattered all over the floor. From that day on, I only remembered the unforgettable image of a pasty, pale arm outstretched, covered with painful-looking scars on a feeble wrist.
It was November 21, 1999, the day I turned six years of age, that I was told my mother had passed away.
I. A is for Apple
Beyond the large, glistening windowpanes the trees ranged from birch to maple to oak, and their foliage gleamed hues of rouge, amber, and gold. The rays of sunlight beamed through the vibrant canopies of the trees, illuminating the room with reflecting lights of tinted copper. Titian light glistened across the broad cherry wood shelves, which were filled with a variety of paints. The dark shelves of paints aligned along the pale walls in a rainbow assortment, brightening up the classroom. The remaining colorful walls were embellished with student artwork..
I attended this art class as an extracurricular activity, but I had other reasons for attending this art class, aside from my great passion for art.
I was seated at the very back of classroom, hidden behind my large easel. The classroom was filled with a slight earthy scent from the wood.
Mr. Vaughn’s husky yet eccentric voice traveled through the classroom, “Good afternoon everyone, I am Mr. Vaughn and I will be your art teacher this year. Most of you know me – I have been a former art student here, for quite a while. As you can see around you, most of you guys know each other. Today I will introduce a new student, who will be joining us this year.”
The door creaked open and the class could hear light footsteps approaching the silent room. The copper lighting accented the new student’s golden hair.
Mr. Vaughn glanced at the boy and smiled, “Mr. Culton will be in our intermediate art class, so please make him feel welcomed. Would you please introduce yourself to the class, Mr. Culton?”
The boy sighed and introduced himself shyly, “Hello… I’m Leo and it’s a pleasure to be here.”
Mr. Vaughn gestured towards the back row of empty seats, where I sat. “Leo you can sit in the empty seat next to Evangeline. If you have any questions she will be more than willing to help you out.”
I gave Ren Vaughn an annoyed glare for volunteering me without my consent.
As Leo approached the vacant seat beside me, the old wooden floors creaked beneath his feet. The awkward silence of the class made the squeaks louder. He suddenly had an audience of twenty-two kids, watching his every move as he reached his destination.
Everyone’s heads snapped forward as Mr. Vaughn broke the awkward silence, “We will be starting this year’s art class with a simple project.” He casually sat on the top of his desk as he gave instructions. “I will put you guys into pairs, and you will have to create a sketch of your partner.” He picked up the cerise apple, from his desk, and nimbly tossed it in the air, “please apply shading and draw as realistic as you can because you guys are 3D, after all…”
Mr. Vaughn’s deep, soothing voice sent me drifting. Ren Vaughn was a tall, handsome, charismatic man. He was slender yet built, like the figure of a Greek Statue. Although Mr. Vaughn was a mix of French and Japanese, his Asian features dominated. He had dark cocoa hair and matching eyes that complimented his tan face. He was not only my outside art teacher, but he was my childhood friend. Ren was only four years my senior, and as children we played together in the same neighborhood. He took care of me as if he was my own brother; walking me to school, tutoring, and teaching me calligraphy, as I grew up. But who would expect that he would grow up to be such a fine man….
“…Eva! Earth to Evaaa-,” Mr. Vaughn said comically as he waved his hand in my face.
The classroom rang with laughter.
My head snapped to reality, “Uh… yes?”
“Thank you for your attention Ms. Garnier. Anyways, lastly, Eva and Leo will be working together. Now meet up with your partner, get to know each other, and yeah that will be the end of class.” Mr. Vaughn walked back to his desk and gave me a cheeky grin.
My cheeks were still flushed from the humiliation, “Hi I’m Eva,” I smiled as I gave my hand out to Leo.
He blushed. “Ah… I’m Leo, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“No, no, the pleasure is all mine, how do you do laddie?” I mockingly said in an English, haughty accent. I burst into laughter, “you don’t have to be so formal: relax!” I gave him a light grin of assurance, returning to my American accent.
His ash-cobalt eyes began to soften, and he gave me a serene smile.
“How do you like it in Maine so far?” I asked.
“It’s quite peaceful and a lot different from back home.”
“Back home? Where are you from?”
“Manhattan.”
“Oo- New York! How’s it like there?”
“Crowded and busy.” His eyes gleamed in nostalgia, and he began to fumble his finger around.
I clasped my hands on to his, “How about this! I’ll take you on a tour around Freeport, and we’ll get the best damn ice cream you’ll ever have!”
Now his face flushed, and his ears went bright red.
“Oh… sorry,” I apologized as I quickly released his hands.
“No, no it’s okay,” he blushed, once again.
“Well I guess I’ll see ya- tomorrow!”
“Bye.”
I grabbed my bag and walked up to Ren Vaughn’s desk. With every step I took, closer to Ren, my heart would ship a beat. Not to be cliché or anything, but my heart was palpating so hard that I could feel my whole body vibrating.
“Hey Ren, are you coming over today for our lessons?”
His eyes seemed to be fixated on a group of girls crowding at the window. “Seems like your brother is here,” he chuckled.
There were a group of girls surrounding the window, “Who is that guy? He’s so hot!” Another girl shrieked, “He looks so mysterious with his bike!”
“Look at his tattoos!”
Every girl at the window squealed, “Damn, that body!”
I rolled my eyes, “So Ren, are you coming over or not?”
He mockingly smirked, “Don’t you get enough of me? You already see me an hour every week.”
“But still! I need my calligraphy classes! Don’t forget – 6 o’clock! I’ll prepare dinner,” I blushed and quickly raced out the door.
Panting and out of breath, and my heart was racing. I began to pound my aching chest. Was there something wrong with me? Was I sick?
I ran to my brother. He stuck out like a sore thumb with his motorcycle, clothes, and hair. I rolled my eyes and hopped onto his bike.
“You started a commotion at the end of art class again,” I said annoyed.
He took off his charcoal black helmet, and his ruffled, unruly hair raveled out. His hair was dyed the color of midnight blue. Although, his bed hair looked messy; it still looked rather stylish.
I lightly ruffled his hair, “Comb your hair, would ya!”
The corner of his mouth turned up as he began buckling the helmet on to my head, “Why? It looks sexy.” He stuck out his tongue and tapped the top of my helmet.
I punched him, “Don’t get so full of yourself!” My hand started throbbing because of his solid arms of steel.
“You all set to go?”
“Yup!” I clasp my arms around his stomach and squeezed as tight as I could.
The engine came to life and the loud RRROOOOM rang through my ears until they began to adjust. I could feel the nice, cool breeze and the slight adrenaline rush. Although the air stank of gasoline, my nose became accustomed to the scent. We arrived home; it felt as if time flew by within seconds.
I collapsed onto the massive couch. I pressed against and sank into the soft suede sofa, lying on a cloud.
“Cain! What time is it?” I shouted.
“Stop screaming I’m right here, and it’s almost five,” he answered in a low tone.
We lived in a small apartment. We were neither poor nor rich. Our father was a businessman and he was barely home, sending us money each month for living expenses. He traveled all around the world. My father was amiable and hardworking. Whenever he came home, he would immediately greet us tenderly, drowning us with presents. We would then have long talks and celebrations to make up for his absence.
My torpid body laid on this beige cloud and I began to drift.
“Mother where are you?” I began to scream. My six-year old self ran down an eerie corridor. I kept running and running down this never-ending hallway and I was swallowed up in darkness. I was soon surrounded by a scatter of pills. I began slipping and falling on them and I came upon a lit room. I saw a body laid before me, but not any dead body. It was Mother’s body. She was outstretched on the scratched wooden floors.
“Mother! Mother! Are you sleeping?” I asked frantically. I grasped and held her cold frigid body to mine. Her cadaver was not making any movements or pulses. I began screaming but her body began to be engulfed by a vortex of pills…
“Eva…!Eva…! Are you okay?” Cain made a worried expression. He woke me up with a shake.
Beads of sweat from my forehead began streaming down my neck and my head was resting on Cain’s lap. I was covered in my favorite thick mauve, woolen blanket. I frantically rose up and came to the sudden realization that I was back in reality.
“Yeah, I’m fine… It was just a dream.” My words put my brother’s worried face to ease. I was out of breath and my heart was still pumping. I brushed the hairs that were stuck on my face from my sweat.
“Good,” he replied with a tranquil smile. He put aside Macbeth, which he was reading for school. My brother went to the same school as me, Burroughs Academy, but he was a senior and I was a sophomore. Although my brother came off as delinquent, he was intelligent. He didn’t have to endeavor for high marks but he received them because he simply enjoyed learning.My brother had a curious mind. He often came off as aloof and cold towards strangers, but he was truly caring towards the people he was close with.
He took out his red handkerchief and wiped the sweat from my forehead. Then he tucked my burnt caramel hair behind my ears.
“Wait what time is it?” I asked hastily.
“A quarter before 6,” he replied as he put his handkerchief back into his pocket and reached for his book again.
“A QUARTER BEFORE SIX?” I yelled. “I still haven’t made dinner and Ren is coming soon!” I rose up and ran to the kitchen.
sch– I saw the page slice my brother’s finger. I startled him and he began to scrunch his eyebrows. It seemed like a sharp pain.
“Come here,” I grabbed his finger and inspected it. The cut wasn’t deep but the claret blood streamed down his finger. I pursed my lips on to his finger, but he pulled it away, quickly.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Cain shouted, surprised.
“Oh, I was trying to lick the blood off. You know, I saw this in a movie.”
“Yeah, in the movies, why don’t you get a reality check? See doesn’t hurt anymore, all gone.” He got up to get a bandaid.
Although his finger didn’t hurt anymore, mine did. I began to feel a warm sensation surge through my body. I blanked out and Cain’s incident replayed in my head, as if I was the one getting the paper cut.
“Ow!” I shrieked. It wasn’t anything excruciating, but a slice. The incident was as if Cain’s pain reciprocated onto my finger, but there was no cut on any of my fingers. I thought this was strange,ful but it was probably just me imagining things.
When I got off the couch, this lovely aroma enticed me. The scent of basil bathed in spicy tomato sauce and the sizzles of sausage got my feet moving. I knew this was Cain’s work in the kitchen.
“I already made dinner.” He caught me on the corner of his eye.
“You did? You’re special spaghetti?” I said bashfully, as my stomach rumbled.
I sighed with relief and ran to the bathroom to shower. Ren was going to be here any moment and I had to look presentable . I quickly undressed and jumped into the shower. The lukewarm water pelted against my bare skin, as the heat from the water fogged up the crystal glass doors. The shower alleviated me, and I began thinking about my dream.
“Why did I have that dream? Was that a sign? Was Mother trying to tell me something?” I began asking myself. I didn’t remember anything of my mother’s death but the traumatic scene of her pale corpse outstretched on the floor. I never had the courage to ask how my mother died, or remind my father of his beloved. Mother was a taboo subject; Cain and I never talked about her with dad. I vigorously scrubbed my head. The thoughts in my head clustered and fumed no more than the suds on my head.
I stepped out of the shower making puddles of footprints.
The doorbell rang.
I sighed with relief and quickly dressed in a pale pink chiffon blouse and sleek navy blue skinny jeans.
II. The Beast
“Cain, get the door!” I bellowed.
“It’s your guest, get the damn door yourself,” he yelled back.
Cain had a strange dislike for Ren Vaughn; ever since we were little he always looked down upon him. Ren was never particularly mean nor cold towards Cain: his mood would change when he saw Ren, or even upon him being mentioned. I never understood Cain’s behavior. He reluctantly opened the door.
“Good evening Cain.” Ren’s smile brightened the house.
“Yeah… hi.”
I rushed down the stairs, “Hi Ren!” I shined with glee and tackled him with a hug.
Ren closed the door and the cold gust hit me with a blow, sending chills down my spine. As Ren embraced me, my goose bumps vanished. My discomfort from the cold replaced with a stir in my heart.
Ren settled his things on the coffee table as I collapsed onto the rug. I crisscrossed-apple sauced my legs, staring at his every motion like a little kid. He placed several items, one at a time, onto the glossy mahogany table. His long tapered fingers reached into his tan leather bag handling mulberry paper, an ink stone, a paperweight, an ink stick, a brush and a beautiful glass bottle filled with obsidian black ink. The glass bottle was petit and simply elegant. It was round, embossed with tessellations. The white sunlight gleaming through this jewel reflected spots of rainbows. But the tar black ink made this beautiful vessel seem morbid. The ink swayed side to side, settling and leaving the former clean sides stained with remnants of its ink dripping lethargically. All of these items were necessary for my Japanese calligraphy class. Ren was teaching me the basics. He had been taught by his mother. We discussed the Edo Period, the origins of famous works, and the eight principles of Yong. Then as he started on a new piece of work, I continued my manuscript, which was a poem. The wooden calligraphy brush made dark, rich, and smooth strokes onto the paper. It was soothing to see the tea-yellow mulberry paper absorb the watery ink, yet still presenting clean elegant strokes.
Although Ren was actively conversing with me and instructing me well, he seemed distracted. His phone constantly lit up and he would send text messages immediately. However, it didn’t bother me until the hundredth text.
Ren’s phone lit once again and I snuck a glance,
Can’t wait to see you tomorrow 😛 – Jessica
As he reached for his phone the ink-bottle tipped over and shattered. The rich obsidian ink soaked his gray plaid, button up shirt and the former beautiful glass vessel was gone. The ink seeped into the floorboards, forming little round puddles, morphing in unity. The diamond-like glistening shards scattered on the floor, reflecting rays of rainbow lights. While Ren’s delicate fingers began picking up the pieces, the sharp shards pierced his skin, drawing blood. The shards of glass were no longer diamonds but rubies. Ren had a deep gash on the palm of his left hand. He continued picking up the pieces, masking his pain out of pride.
He sprung up, startled and headed for the bathroom, “Oh my… I’m such a klutz, I’m gonna go wash up.”
I ran to get the first aid kit to quickly bandage his wound. I felt frantic. His cut was a lot more serious than Cain’s minor paper cut. I applied rubbing alcohol and I could tell it stung, as he twitched. I covered the wound and kissed it, just as my mother would kiss my wounds. But at that moment something strange happened. A burning sensation pierced me, and a mixture of pain from my hand and my heart began to conduct within me. I ran to the bathroom. I stared at my hand. I was confused. My left hand was throbbing with excruciating pain. It was on the same hand, that Ren had his gash. Was I feeling what he was feeling or was it my imagination playing games again? I didn’t have time to think about my burning hand; I had other problems.
I began reflecting to myself, “Jessica? He has been exchanging text messages with a woman?” My body began to burn up and questions soared through my mind. I asked myself, Was this his girlfriend? Was she pretty? Who was she? And why had they been talking? Although Ren was an awfully outgoing guy, he never had a girlfriend. I began to feel uneasy, but what for? Ren was a brotherly figure to me, right? This foreign feeling began to thrive within me but I kept it to myself. I took a deep breath and came out of the bathroom; my eyes and thoughts were trained on him.
“Hey Eva! I’m gonna head out,” he said as he began packing up.
He reached, for his phone, once again, smiled at the new text, and replied. Hot blood began to creep within my veins. Jealousy was a beast that could not be tamed, which made feelings escape from the closet. The beast rose. The phone lit once again.
“Can you stop? What is up with you today?” I said enraged. I threw the phone at the sofa.
“Wait, what’s wrong Eva?”
“What do you mean, what’s wrong? You were suppose to help me with calligraphy, but all you’re doing is going on your frickin’ phone!”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say, and awkwardly left.
Strains of laughter came from Cain’s room. “Can you shut the hell up, what are you even laughing about?”
“Chill it; I didn’t even do anything this time.” I could hear the smirk in his voice.
I ruffled my hair out of frustration. I ran to my room and lay on my bed, doing nothing but staring at the pure white ceiling. Ren would probably avoid me for a while. But more importantly, what was wrong with me? It seemed as if every time I kissed something, I would get hurt. Was I a freak or was I imagining things?
Tap, tap, tap.
“What is it, Cain?” My voice was muffled, holding back my tears.
He came in and settled a plate of hot spaghetti right beside me, “Are you hungry?”
“No,” I turned away.
“Stop overreacting, tell me what happened.”
“No, it’s none of your business.”
He frowned and gave me a concerned look, reaching out to embrace me.
I retaliated at first, but I failed to escape. My tears began soaking his shirt, as he comforted me.
Cain combed my hair with his frigid fingers. “Ren’s a bad guy, stop associating with him,” he said, coldly.
I pierced his eyes with my sharp stare. “Would you stop with your hate for Ren, he’s never even done anything to you. Ugh… can you leave? You’re not making me feel better.”
“Wow, taking it all out on me, eh? I’m not the bad guy here. Man, teenage girls can be so hormonal sometimes.” He rolled his eyes and slipped me a book from behind his back. “Alrighty, I’m done playing nice guy here, all I get out of this is being lashed out on. You sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite, or maybe they should bite you a little for karma.”
I felt bad. Cain had always been there for me, through thick and thin. “Hey Cain, I’m sorry.” By the time I apologized, he already had left. I was left with a now- cold plate of spaghetti and a peculiar book, titled Evangeline.
III. Secrets
I stared at the vintage tome, reluctant to touch it. It was extremely dusty, and I was scared that it would fall apart in my hands. I pulled my sleeve over my hand and wiped the dust from the chestnut cover. As I tried to shoo the dust particles away from me, it just made matters worse. I coughed up a storm of dust with a few breaths.
Evangeline by Henry Longfellow was engraved on the book with gilt. I vaguely remembered this book from when I was little. I flipped through the worn tea-colored pages. I started remembering this tragic tale and my mother. This was my book, Evangeline’s book.
At the very end of the book a page slipped down to my feet, revealing a pair of white gloves flattened against the endpapers. The gloves were embroidered with intricate lace patterns up to the middle, the fingers sewn with delicate, transparent fabric. I picked up the missing page, but it wasn’t a page from the book. It was a letter:
Dear Evangeline,
My beloved sweet daughter, if you are reading this, then you have grown up to be a young adult. I am assuming that you have had times where unexplainable things have happened to you, but rest assured – you are not alone. Whether I am alive or not, be aware of your surroundings and do not always trust everyone you meet. I named you Evangeline after the tragic heroine in Longfellow’s tale. You are bound to face hardship throughout your life, but it is your decision whether you make your life a tragedy or not.
You and I are a special kind of people. We possess the power to relieve and absorb the pain of others for short periods of time. This gift can be extremely convenient in times of need, but it can be extremely dangerous if it is abused. Whether you treat this gift as a privilege or curse, it’s the choice of the beholder.
I am writing you this letter not to scare you, but to warn you. In the past, I had no choice to treat our gift as a curse. Thus, I would like you to learn from my unfortunate situation – we are some sort of drug for humankind. Long ago, Hatsumi, our ancestor, lived in Fukuoka, Japan. She was betrothed to the Miyamoto, a royal shaman clan. But unfortunately, she had an affair with her previous lover. Thus, the Miyamotos looked down upon her and cursed her with the power to absorb pain. She was sent away, left with nothing and picked up by the Japanese mafia, Yakusa. One of their branches discovered her power and abused her powers from then on. Women of our blood have been misused for generations and it is time to stop this. Your life can be different so do not exactly in my footsteps. That is why I escaped from my small village hometown way back in Japan, for you. Whether you are interested or not, I kept a journal of my daily life in my hometown, dedicated in guiding you.
As a young child, you were always introverted. You hated giving kisses to your relatives and you hated people touching you. I blame a lot of that on myself. I used you for my own selfish needs and I do not know how I lived with myself for inflicting pain on my own daughter. I hope you will manage to forgive me at some point in your life, but in the meantime I want to help you. As you get older your receiving power will get stronger, therefore, I bestow you my very own pair of gloves. These gloves will prevent you from unwanted skinship and absorption of pain. I hope you will change the path and live a different life as a new Evangeline.
Farewell,
Your Mother
My mind was blank. I had no immediate reaction. I could feel a warm sensation thrive within my body. The fact that this was the first time I had heard of my “gift”, I was experiencing an epiphany. I needed to know more.
I barged into Cain’s room.
“Can you knock?”
“How about no?! Where is mom’s journal?”
“Mom’s what?” He looked puzzled.
I impatiently tapped my foot. “Mom’s book! Ah duh, do you not understand English?”
“You mean the Evangeline book? I already gave that to you! That was from mom?”
“No, I mean Mom’s journal… the one that she talks about in the letter!”
He put up surrendering hands. “I know nothing about this journal thing, okay? I’m just the messenger.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay then, well who gave you this book anyway?”
“I don’t know – ? I opened some package from our mail.”
“Who was it addressed to, Cain?” I felt hot prickling anger on my skin.
“You.”
“Where’s the package?”
“Downstairs.”
I stormed out the room. Where was the journal? I felt like I was missing something and now that mother was dead, there was no one to turn to.
Chapter IV. Light
The Saturday sun rose and I stared at the lace gloves as translucent brazen light gleamed through their little holes. I slipped on the gloves and stared the delicate fabric hugged my hands. These gloves were extremely helpful and everything, but where was the journal, the book of secrets, my so-called “guide”? At this point, it would be impossible to find it. The doorbell rang.
Brrrrgh!!!
I hollered “Caa-i-n- get the door!” My call got the response of empty silence. I lazily rose from bed to check where Cain was, to yell at him for not responding. I checked all around for Cain only to find myself alone.
“Good morning, it seems the mailman mixed up our mail with yours…” The neighbor with a bronze head of hair raised his glance from the mail. “Oh hi… Ev-a… I didn’t know you lived right next to me,” Leo stuttered.
I didn’t know either. I knew that the Andersons moved a couple months ago but who knew that Leo would be living right next door? This was a new experience for me. My apartment complex was full of old people and I’d never encountered. “Hey, what a surprise! Did you just move in?” I welcomed him with a warm smile.
He mumbled, “Not that long ago.” He was that same introverted kid that I saw on the first day of art class. He handed me the mail and his glance didn’t leave the floor.
“Thanks for the mail, you want to come and have some breakfast? I was about to make some for my brother and I… but he’s not here to eat all the food in the food.” I chuckled to make the atmosphere less awkward.
“Nah, it’s okay, I don’t want to intrude or anything. I guess I’ll see you next Thursday at art class!”
“Alright then, suit yourself. You don’t know what you’re missin- I make the most bombing egg and ham sandwiches, but not the bad kind of bombing. See ya then.”
It seems like he’s scared I’m going eat something. Am I too annoying? Maybe my outer personality is too bubbly, but I thought people like bubbly. What a weird kid…
I realized I was still wearing my gloves. Embarassment surged through me, wondering how stupid I looked to Leo, wearing old-fashioned lace gloves with pajamas. I took off the gloves and threw them at the couch.
I ate in the empty apartment with no plans on a beautiful sunny Saturday. The paper-thin walls lingered with a melancholy melody of violin. This was the first time I’d heard anyone playing instruments on this floor. Was it Leo? My mind trailed off thinking that maybe it was a music-playing phantom in a hidden room.
Ren: You up for another calligraphy class?
Received at 8:16 a.m.
But I still didn’t want to see him… I wanted to sort out my feelings.. I decided to go on a walk to clear my mind.
I breathed in the crisp Maine air, but unfortunately the once bright and sunny blue sky was now ruined with a gloomy gray hue and it looked a storm was bound to erupt any second. To my luck, it began raining, and I didn’t have an umbrella. Droplets of water pelted my skin and my body was enveloped in this humid moisture. Strands of my hair began to clump together with water. My clothes began to stick to my body and I could feel the water squish within my shoes with every step I took. I felt disgusting and I kept my eyes on the ground.
The chronic pelt of rain stopped and a shadow was cast below my feet. I looked up and a navy blue umbrella hovered my head. My stomach dropped and then immediately warmed up, at his smile.
“You forgot your umbrella, I see,” Ren said, trying to start a conversation.
“Yup.”
He continued, “It’s raining pretty hard today, isn’t it?”
“Yup.”
“You’ll get sick this way,” he nagged.
“Yup.”
“I’ll walk you home, okay?”
Although I didn’t show it, I was incredibly happy – like a first grader excited-for-recess happy. I smiled and we walked in silence.
When we reached my house I invited him in.
I called , “Cain, I’m home!”
“Yeah, I’m in my room.”
“Oh by the way, Ren is here.”
He responded with silence.
I directed Ren, “Wait here, I’ll make you some tea.”
Ren waited on the couch while I began preparing the tea.
This was perfect: I had an opportunity to talk to Ren alone I felt stupid inviting him inside and not knowing what to say to him. I trembled as I tried to think of a possible conversation starter, but when the love of your life is sitting in your living room you can’t think.
“Tssssssssss” The water was done.
I nervously entered the living room carrying out a tray of tea. Ren was fixated on a picture frame of my mother, Cain, and I in his hand and abruptly settled it down as I entered. “Your mother was beautiful. You look a lot like her,” he admired.
I blushed, “Thanks.” In my head, I jumped up and down with happiness like a Mexican jumping bean.
“Would you like to come with me to visit my mother’s grave tomorrow? It is the memorial of her death,” I blurted.
Oh God, what did I do now… What makes me think that he would want to go to my mom’s grave.
“I would love to,” he smiled.
I quickly wrote the address of the cemetery and gave it to him; when I looked up, his eyes glowed and he quickly thrust the piece of paper into his pocket.
After tea, I saw him out. I couldn’t help smiling all night long.
Chapter V. Shadowing Memories
The cold crisp morning arrived. I wore a cute rouge dress, black tights, and a thick peacoat. Ren picked me up from my house and we went straight to graveyard. He held two beautiful bouquets of flowers, while I had one potted plant, some gardening and cleaning supplies. But why did Ren have two bouquets? One for my mother, but to whom did the second bouquet belong to?
Once we arrived to the cemetery, I found my mother’s gravestone quickly, for I visited it often. I began cleaning her gravestone and replacing the dead flowers with new ones, as Ren paid his respects to my mother and gave her flowers. I then burnt the incense I brought with me and the lively smoke filled the autumn air around me. I went on my knees and began to pray.
Mother, how are you? Although you are gone, I know you are always watching over me. I know you’re in a good place right now, happy, and proud. Every day I will live my life to become a daughter who you can be proud of. Therefore please watch over me through the good times and the bad. I always think about you and I know you always think about me because I can always feel your presence within me. Please continue to look after me in the present and future. Today, I brought a poem that I have been working on to read to you today.
I reached into my bag for the manuscript that I had been working on for months in calligraphy class.
I unrolled it, and read it in Japanese. Here’s the translation:
Mother you were beautiful,
Your eyes, mouth, nose, and face
Your eyes enlightened my heart and filled my body with warmth.
Your mouth spoke dulcet words of wisdom.
Your nose like mine smelled the scents of vanilla,
Which wrapped your body.
Your face and body was my sun,
My light of the day,
My source of living,
You were my air.
But when you were gone, my sun disappeared
Instead a bright blue moon began to appear.
For everyone around me has contributed to my new world,
My new light,
And my new air.
Therefore, today I am here
to reassure you that I am strong.
I was so entranced that I was not aware of my surroundings. When I looked up, Ren was gone.
I heard a murmuring. Then a voice cried, “Mother… Mother… I’m sorry.”
I jumped up and headed towards the sound. I quietly stood behind a tree and watched him. He was hunched back, hugging the granite tombstone and beside his knees were the second bouquet of white daisies. The ambiance overwhelmed me. The leaves crumbled with every step I took; however, Ren did not seem to notice until I stood before him. He immediately ceased his crying.
He mumbled, “Hey, you found me.” He quickly flashed me a smile and chuckled. But I was no fool. Like the sun shining during a rain shower, Ren smiled as his red eyes gleamed with sorrow, yet two streams of tears continued trickling down his cheeks. I said nothing.
Instead, I took him into my arms. As I embraced him, I slid my fingers through his soft ruffled hair and gently stroked it. He began sobbing in my arms and at that moment this cool, grown man seemed like a child. I brushed the wet strands of hair back from his eyes, and gently pecked his forehead. A warm radiance spread through my lips.
At that moment, a strange thing occurred. Ren’s hazel eyes transformed from brown to a bright gold and I began to feel faint. Everything became blurry.
A little boy was running down the dreary corridor.
He exclaimed, “Mommy! Mommy! Look what I drew!” The boy gleamed with happiness as bright as the sun.
The mother’s gentle voice whispered, “It’s beautiful, but don’t be too loud, now.”
Loud steps began charging and the door slammed.
A furious man demanded, “BE QUIET! WHAT IS ALL THIS NOISE?”
The boy mumbled, “Nothing… I just drew a picture.”
The man marched over, snatched the drawing and inspected it. “What is this? Just because you think you’re decent at drawing, you think you can waste your time like this. STOP this junk, and go study,” the mad man shouted. He tore the drawing and left the room.
The boy was left sobbing into his mother’s arms.
The mother stroked her son’s back and comforted him. She warmly breathed into his ears, “Your drawings are lovely, Ren. Don’t mind your father and continue drawing.”
The boy smiled once again. “Will you come to my art show? They are presenting some of my artwork, I’ve been working on in school.”
“Of course,” the mother smiled.
When the day of the art show arrived, hours went by and the boy was all alone. His mother broke her promise and never came. The sad boy cried rivers of tears and went home.
The boy was greeted with his father screaming, “YOU USELESS BOY, LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE DONE! I told you to stop with that stupid art dream of yours and you got your mother killed!”
The boy became white. He did not shed one tear but he began to shiver all over. He asked, “What are you talking about?”
The father yelled, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT AM I TALKING ABOUT? When your mother went to that stupid gallery of yours, she got into a damn accident!” The father began to cry. Who would have known this malicious man held feelings?
The boy did not say anything more and quietly went to his room.
The father shouted from behind the door, “Are you going to say anything? Bring your mother back! Bring her… back… bring her back. Can you?” The front door slammed and everything was quiet.
The little boy was shaken up, he sat on the floor, his back against the door, and began crying. I could feel his pain, anguish, and guilt. Not only did I sympathize with him, at this moment, I felt as if the boy and I were one.
But then Ren shook me. He was gleaming and had no traces of sadness remaining. I came back to reality, and I was in the graveyard again. This seemed to me extremely abnormal.
Ren stared at me with wonder and happiness. “Eva, are you okay? You’ve just been staring at me in a trance for five minutes…”
Wait, five… minutes? It felt as if hours went by within those minutes. I was sweating in the cold and I did not understand what dreamlike trance I had encountered. It was a vision. But strangely enough, the vision of pain made a morbid imprint that thrived within my soul. This was absurd. The Ren I was just holding in my arms, crying, had become a totally new person within minutes. But the question is how did this happen? Was he bipolar? Was he on drugs?
But it came to me; his split personality only occurred once I kissed him… Oh god, my kiss must have scared him to the point that he forgot he was grieving. I was stupid to be so caught up in the moment. But it seemed as if all of his pain had been transferred into me, and I understood his pain. But the question was, was the vision I had his true past?
My lips were devoured with warmth, and it was Ren melting his lips onto mine with great strength and passion. This was my first kiss with my first love. The sensation that I began to feel from my loved one paralyzed me. It felt as if I was dreaming. It seemed to me as if the most impossible thing had just become possible. But, I came back to reality and pushed Ren away.
“Ren, what are you doing?” I was appalled that I had interrupted this once-in-a-lifetime passionate embrace. But I was puzzled.
His slender, frigid fingers tucked my hair behind my ear, which was flushed like the rest of my face. His warm, hot breath whispered words that seemed unreal to me.
He whispered, “I love you.”
“What, what?” I was addled.
He said louder, “I love you and every kiss we share feels so good.”
I heard him loud and clear, and I was still paralyzed with shock. This man who showed no feelings further than brotherly affection, was confessing to me. My unrequited feelings were no longer unrequited. I didn’t question him anymore, for I was frightened that he would take back his words. This man before me did not seem like the Ren I knew, but rather a man possessed.
Once again he held me close and dove in for another kiss.
THE END