February, 2004

"Okay, how do I start? I have to set up a theme, first I should write about the characters and then the scenes. I feel hungry, I think I should go and eat something, what about taking a nap? A bath would be good too, first a cup of coffee, amazing, I distracted myself again," Harper sat still on a chair, the blank white page in laptop screen been there for days, maybe months, who cares, "No one really cares, even my mother only wants to see the checks," watching sharp gusts of snow billow outside the window, "It's too cold here," and the naked branches of trees turned white, the sadness permeates the widened room and the wind outside made the snows flutter, the long stiller streets stayed the same and the never fading giggles of her, "What am I gonna write?" her hands were slender, "I don't know, I have no idea," her fingers short and sturdy, "I want to just go away," when he used to tuck her in his arms, "But I can't, I've to take care of my mother," and used to love someone, "Harp? Harper?" the voice of his mother Anna rummaged in the room, he grasps and rose, "Harper? Are you coming or not?!" The anger infused in her voice, "Yes, yes I am coming," a dully aroma swirled around the hallway, he let his feet hauled inside the turquoise room, "Mother?" he said, "Have you been calling me?" the stillness wailing there in the room, felt zephyr of warmth as he gazed at the poster, "New York's best seller," his smirk stared back at him, " Whisper of her heart," well who could have guessed his first book success would have come up with a tragedy. Those couple of years, he still had those moments when he felt himself an imposter between the writers, "So how's your new book coming?" the jewelry gleamed onto her neck, the surrounding of her room had hovered with the books, "Mother," he said, hesitant, "I was thinking something," a passing image, perhaps a memory flickered in his eyes, "I love you," he said, the hot sunlight crossed the curtain, shimmered onto his face, "I love you too," they were both exhilarated, "I have a good news," a smile tumbled on his cheeks, "What is it?" he asked, "I'm pregnant," the grandfather clock kept ticking, "That's great, you're a writer so you need to think and imagine," she sat still, the world seemed fragile and subdued. The air was cooler with her eyes hewed through him. The giggles of kids in the neighborhood glanced through the frosted window. "I was just thinking maybe we should move away from here," he said, "I can't write here," the cold breeze swirled again, the snow outside was already piled up in his front porch, the kindling in the iron gate kept radiating heat waves, "Well certainly we can't, you've to stay here," she said, "Ever since I get paralyzed I can't write novels so you've to continue writing and these walls will help you to write just like it did to me,"

"Mother, I can't, I still hear her voices here in these walls," tears glinted in his eyes, he scrubbed his hands, "It's so cold here, isn't it?" Anna asked, "Go and write, dear, it's almost a year since you have published a book, I'm sure everyone would be waiting for you," His quick nod of comprehension, complying, "Alright, okay mother," he said, stoic, rose and walked out, the snow whorled in the cold delicate morning, Harper kept enduring the pain and the saddened memory inside him as his mother had expected him to be, he waddled to his room, sat down against the laptop, the while light shone in his eyes, "Write something, you've to write, it's important," he had, for what left, jeopardized his thoughts with the riddles of her saddened memories. "I have to move on," he splayed his fingers onto the keyboard, "I've to live my own life," his fingers swirled, "She's not here anymore, I've to forget about her and move on," the sounds of keyboard seeped into his ears, "But I can't, I still love her," his palm flattened on the chair's hands, he rose, let himself fall on the messy quilt, the white page had stains on it now, perhaps a word, a sentence, "I love you and I still miss you, Winnie," the pain was so imperceptible that he could not forget her cherubic face, "Always a smile there," her memories and the pain sometimes did haze away but not forever. By mid-day, he woke up, the roads outside were still, staying without the snow that was once pouring from the sky now. The white page could've glimmered with words but without volition for the writer, he couldn't. He glimpsed on the street. The silence was so deep and encompassing that he felt himself drowning in the river and reuniting with her, suicidal thoughts? He rose with a taste of dissection of his heart, his feet rubbed against the exquisite tiles of his room. Anna's dully room kept radiating the woe vibe. Her gold hair splayed across the pillow, her eyes shut and still like a snake…. Biding time for her prey, exasperation had smooched his dejective mind "I want to kill her," the gloomy light in the room crept through him. "Fuckin sociopath," he leaned and his lips pressed against her forehead. "But I can't, she's my mother," the gloomy light played behind him as his fingers ran smoothly through the knock, her inquisitive disposition had never acquainted the possibility of disaster that could happen to him. The snow had swallowed the house as it stood behind him, the city streets were badly plowed, the sky funneled down and the road cut through the limestone, he walked tentatively, he ran his fingers into his hair, disheveling, snowy ground stained by the cigarette ash, little fumes roaming from his mouth, a strip of threadbare sweater swinging and touching his palm. His eyes caught the glimpse of a woman with her tumescent belly. "Is she pregnant?" a man's fingers cascading onto her belly as it ran smoothly, the smile fell flat on their faces. "I am pregnant," Winnie said, he lay still beside her, "What happened?" she asked, "Are you not happy?" The warmth of the sunlight waddled in the window. His smile couldn't bring itself to come, "Winnie, I am so happy," he said, "I am just a bit in shock," a great rush of fervor and excitement had covered his voice, "Why?" she asked, still with a smile, "We did plan it, right?" Harper chuckled, "Of course, it's just I feel so pressured, I don't know if that bastard's gonna drag me down," Winnie chuckled while splaying her fingers on his chest "So have you decided the names?" even her voice was a cadence, "Well, if it's a boy then it's Liam or if it's a girl then don't you think it's your turn to decide?" she looked at the window, through the slats on the window shades, a car propped in the front yard, "Your mother is here," He somehow strained himself to walk passed the couple, the chuckles of the teeming kids played around him, "Our child would've been five years old too right now," the murky wind surpassed him, he stood there feeling the wind with the vague thought, "The wind getting heavy again," he sat on a bench and decided to swerved towards the house filled with the aroma of dejection and despondency. A kid's hair fluttered by the wind with the rhythm of his speed, putting himself afar from his mother, he glanced at them, her cheeks were infused with an affectionate smile, the kid ran with graceful undulations to the rhythm of the wind and had a giggle on his unimpeachable face. "Liam or…..?" the revelation of not being known to the name had made him surprised, "What would it be?" the cheery road soon became stiller as the snow tumbled. The stillness had made him weary, not what he yearned for, "It isn't pretty?" The snow dispersed onto the already piled with snow roof of a building, Ground awash with the snow. He plunged, his fingers took cover from his pocket, "It never was,"

"Yes, it's pretty," Winnie said, her eyes shimmering with elation, emerald locket glinting like an ocean under the bright sun, "How do you like the snow?" he asked, "I am so cold right now," a place called 'The End' hovered with the snow and the noises of the crowd dispersing into the sloppy sand of snow with their snowboard attached to their feet, the sun was up high, the sunlight mingled in her long blond hair, "Then why are you here with me?" She asked, being hostile, "Because," he said, "I can't live without the smell of your hair," he affectionately touched her hair, a smile tumbled on her face. "Shut up," said Winnie. The cold air ran, he winced at the kids around the snowy slope, getting ready to ski. "Tell me," he said, "Is it a perfect place to spend our honeymoon?" by the time he turned around, she was already gone, dispersing into the slope of snow just like everyone, undulating and glinting with the sun, her hair fluttering with the high speed of her skiing, and he stayed there, watching his love all cheery and happy, his eyes glimmered against her body hidden with the suit and her hair flying with the wind, it was everything for him, to see her like that, and that's what he had yearned for, "Yes, if she's happy," he felt the instant gratification catching her in his eyes, "Then it's the perfect place for our honeymoon." He stopped in the front porch as the loudly phone turned alive, it hadn't been looked like an evening, it was Jayden, his snarly impatience agent, always calling him asking about his new book, "Hello?" he said, "Hello Harper, how are you?" Jayden asked, the snow had taken its place in his threadbare sweater. "Yes, I am fine," he said, "So any updates about your book?" his tough fingers brushed the snow off, "Sorry, I didn't catch your words," he lounged there and knew what Jayden had asked him, "Are you writing these days?" disdain was infused in his voice, the silence formed between their tongues, Jayden seemed he was smothering a scream, perhaps because of frustration and anger, "Uh you know the health of my mother," he said, "I'm so sorry Jayden but I promise you, the book will be ready next month," the murky air was cold and bright on his face, and then for once again Jayden stayed there silent, "It's been already too late, Harper," he was his mother's agent when she used to shine the whites with her words. She'd delegated Harper to meet him a few years ago and they had a deal, "Yeah I know," he said, "It's just, my life's so out of my schedule these days, but I'll finish the book," he stared through the slats on the window shades of his neighbor, a woman lying still, near the window, her eyes focused on something, perhaps a book called 'Whisper of her heart'

"It seems good," Winnie said, A bunch of papers on her hands, in her eyes the words were fluttering, her feet propped on his lap and he, caressing her legs, she licked her index finger each time she turned a page "Do you like it?" he asked, he felt a surge of love and excitement as she bit her bottom lip lightly as she read, "Yes, of course but there is something I noticed," The sunlight crossed the curtain and mingled on their faces, she had been here in the cushy sofa lying and reading his manuscript for almost two hours, her nails were meticulously cleaned and the aroma of a nice perfume was lying with her, "Yeah? What is it?" he asked, the winter had ended not long ago, a nice summer start, "The girl's name is Mia," she said, "I can see some characters with some of our friend's names so why not using mine?" she had taken scrupulous care of what they owned, the indulgence was evident on her face, "Well," he said, "For that, you need to read the ending," intrigued had joined her, "Is it sad?" a smile propped on his face, "Just read it, I don't wanna ruin the story for you," She nodded and without a second thought let her eyes get lost in the words, her blond hair glinted in the pillow, she read it with great amount of focus, biting her upper lip, and resting her legs on his lap, the hot breeze was moving outside unhurriedly. The typical summer evening had made him divulge to his thirst for water. He rose with his lips moving, "I'm gonna go and get a drink," he walked to the kitchen, the world didn't seem the same as it was in his childhood. He drank and glanced through the window, a woman giving her dog a walk, kids' lively whispers roaming around the garden, living in a nice neighborhood with his lovely life, that's what he had yearned for. He returned himself towards her, the papers fell onto the table beside her, "What happened?" He settled himself beside her, "Did you read it all?" she had a tense look, she plucked her fuchsia t-shirt, tears were evident, "Hey? Are you crying?" he asked, "No I am not!" the lies laid still with her fingers smooching her eyes. "Tell me," she said. There was a remnant of a smile on his cheeks, "Did she really need to die a vicious death?" Harper chuckled, and then he said "So here's the reason for not using your name," the glossy window had the dim sunlight in it, and the hot sun would soon go away. Winnie lied still, bewildered, "What do you mean?" she asked, he leaned down to her, his long hair cascaded and then he lay his lips on her forehead, "Because I don't want to see you die,"

"Patience isn't my forte, Harper," Jayden said, "I've already waited for your book for so long," Jayden was known to be the best agent and Harper had no intention to lose him, "Yeah, I know and I assure that it'll be ready next month," the murky snow kept falling and the woman in the window had gone away, "She didn't like it I guess," he hung up the phone, "That motherfucker, always bugging me for the book," the wind splashed on his face, he turned around and opened the door, he had been propositioned for so many times as the best writer of this generation, but had never had a feeling that matches it, his feet rubbed against the floor, the dull room stayed the same as he had left it, he loved to imagine her soft chuckles sometimes, he stood there, flickered his eyes down to his bed, a cushy bed too big for a single person, he kneeled and let his hands sleep on a big mahogany box, he had taken scrupulous care of the box, a scrawny sentence was carved on it, "The memories of my love," tears had already covered his eyes as he runs his fingers through it, he opened the box. The pictures of Winnie glanced back at him, her stuff kept safe. "I'll never forget you, Winnie, you were my everything," his tears glinted on her photo with his thoughts waddling around her. He shut the box and rose, sat on the quilt. The cold breeze kept rattling on the window, the snow had already washed it, he mused, "I've to write," the immense blare of plummet formed beneath him, "But I can't," was something falling? "But without her, I can't," the quick alarming blare halted, he rose and left the messy room behind. He glanced through the window, the snow had hovered over almost every house. The dully aroma was still roaming around, her door being shut, eeriness teemed into his heart, "How is the door closed?" he knocked, but no answer came, he fiddled to knock, at last, he opened the door, the curtain was down, the room was infused with darkness only, the wind was still swerving around the evening outside, he turned on the lights and found Anna, out of her bed, on the floor, perspiration ran down her face, unconscious, "Mother!"