- "Not every smile is a reason of happiness. Some are given so that we need to hide the pain"-
~Bindiya
The sun melted pink and orange in the sky with each passing second. A cloud of smoke drifted indolently in the atmosphere from the cigarette that hung limply from between the man's slender fingers. He stood on the balcony in the cool evening wind, wearing a black turtleneck, with his arms resting on the railing as he was mesmerized by the picturesque scenery of the setting sun over the distant mountains and the seeping mist that seemed to steal from the view of the shimmering lights of the city, Harlania. He took another long drag of his cigarette, inflated his tired lungs with the rich plumes of smoke and purged it out of this system through his nostrils. It triggered a raucous cough that left his heart burning.
"Stubborn old man," the words rang through his ears from behind him and he was too self-absorbed to care to cast a glance.
"Even after the news of your development of bronchitis, you still continue to smoke. Smoke the days of your life away if you please. I'd mail you the number of people that seemed to care or even notice your existence in your grave when you die. I doubt the numbers would be high. It'd be a pity that you'd be unable to read it."
"F*** you, Nixon. I really don't give a f***. Give me my space."
Nixon moved his gaze over to the grandfather clock that kept a consistent ticking in time with his throbbing heart. He knew what was going to happen later and said nothing further.
The door cried on its hinges as it was cracked open ajar. Emma felt goosebumps erupt down her legs with the crisp night draught and her knees slightly wobbled. Her chest felt tight and she was praying that he was possibly taken to sleep by the medication. With much effort to close the front door in silence, she released a breath she had no idea she was holding in and melted to the floor.
"Fool."
Her breath hitched. She expected it. She knew that he would never go to sleep with the news and to top that off, she was home late. She turned her gaze over to meet the old man, Robert, Berty, some people liked to call him. He stood mightily at the foot of the grand carpeted staircase, shoulder-width apart, with his cane held in his hands as if it was a bat and he was getting prepared to strike an incoming ball. Lined besides him evenly on both his left and his right side were all of them except for Nixon: Frankie, Teresia, William and Kathy. Nixon stood on the far right, nearest to the sitting room, next to the frosted glass window, his face moonlit.
"Did you really think I would never find out? That you would get away? You have to be the most foolish girl to believe that!" he chuckled, sinisterly.
Fear gripped her tightly and she could barely muster the strength to reply.
He grew serious once more. His figure stood harsh against the moonlight.
"You clearly like seeing me sick, don't you?" he grumbled.
"No, I would never! I've been working hard, dad, really hard. I just…" she bit her lip in earnest efforts not to seem weak, "I just needed to work even harder maybe…"
"LIESSSSS!" the cane was lifted high into the air and she waited for it as it landed on her back with a crack.
She jolted forward from the impact and steadied herself on the floor before she fell face-flat.
"You liar! You walked off on the competition. That's what you did. Don't lie in my face like that! It's because of you why I am sick. I always have to be yelling after you!"
"Every first place was for you! What do you mean?! I just don't know what happened ther- AHHRGGG!"
He lifted the cane level to his head and landed it with a loud whack on her left cheek. Emma could barely feel her own heart beat anymore. All she knew was that the tears were there and he was upset. She was once again a…
"DISAPPOINTMENT! YOU DISAPPOINTMENT! ALL THAT TRAINING AND YOU JUST WALK OFF LIKE A DAMN FOOL! YOU INVALID!"
Emma shuddered under the lashes and she left her body to be whacked until she passed out. The shouting was too much, she needed to go somewhere quiet.
The Cherry Blossom bloomed and the pretty pink leaves went dancing with the passing wind. The sun had never shone more elegantly in the rich baby blue sky like it did then. It seemed almost as if they were in wonderland. A very small Emma took a seat on the shadow casted bench that sat lifelessly under the tree. There, already seated, was the elderly woman she cherished so dearly with all her heart. She was close enough to a mother.
"Emmie dear, is that you?" Nanna questioned with a heart-warming saccharine smile.
She was faceless except for her lips with a loose dandelion dress drowning her skinny frame and her hands were crossed in her lap. Her mop of silver hair was gathered at the back of her head in a bun. Emma could tell she was happy by the smile plastered to her face. The wind washed their faces and wove through Emma's hair.
"Nanna!"
"My sweet child! Come sit here," she patted the empty space closest to her, " You must meet Emily."
Emily… the name made her frown.
"But Nana… I told you how much I could not understand Emily no matter how much you explained her to me."
Nana chuckled, "Oh Emmie. Emily, though quite complex, is easy to decipher. She lies in your heart. One day, you'll be strong enough to meet her and talk for a bit but that is, whenever you are ready. By then, you might find that freedom you talk about."
"You think so Nanna?"
"Of course!" Nanna lifted her unto her laps, "Emily would always be waiting for you, no matter how long it takes."
Emma smiled gladly and was swallowed in Nanna's embrace. She rocked both their bodies from side to side to the rhythm of nature. She felt like she had ascended the sky and had taken flight with the birds. She was going to heaven.
"Emmie… Emmie… Emmie!"
Her eyes fairly cracked open. The air felt cool against her sticky, gritty skin. She was still in her school uniform but it was now overtaken by wrinkles. She brushed her cheek. It stung so badly. She was certain it was had grown to the size of a ball and became a tinge of purple. She was weighed down by a headache and everywhere seemed to be throbbing with pain. She made out the environment through the blur. Neutral colors… she knew the place. She was in her bedroom.
"Emmie?"
"Nanna?"
Her eyelashes clung together and mimicked a look of mascara. They were moist with salty tears.
"How are you, dear? You've been out for a few hours. You seemed to have fallen asleep."
She still had that smile plastered to her face. It was like she had never been drenched by the heavy rains during the storm in all her life; she seemed to always have shelter.
"Nanna… why does he hate me so much?" she croaked.
"Robert loves you dear."
"Why was I born like this? Why could I not be like the others? I can't bear to look at myself like this…"
"Just by the fact that you are imperfect, makes you perfect, dear. You look beautiful just the way you are. Don't you ever doubt that."
"Yeah… but why am I never enough for him?"
"You are more than enough, dear. You are his reason for living."
"If so, why does he always act like I am a burden?"
"Robert's way of love is very complex, Emmie. Please promise me you would give him time."
Emma rolled over to her side on the bed.
"I'm not sure I could ever grow to love him."
Her gaze drifted to the woman on the nightstand who held the ends of her hanfu between her finger tips with a peony pinned in her jet-black hair. The sequins which adorned her sweater that hung from her right forearm, glistened in the morning sun like a mirror ball under the disco lights. She wore the same smile each and every day under the Cherry Blossom, frozen in a curtesy forever, as if wanting to be mirrored.
"I don't think I can grow to love any of them."