Under the radiant embrace of a golden sky, a smattering of clouds adorned the beach where I stood, drenched and vulnerable, facing a woman who towered over me thrice my height. My memories of life before this moment were fragmented, akin to a school of goldfish swimming through my consciousness.
In a swift motion, the woman shed her dress's skirt, revealing well-worn skinny jeans beneath. Swiftly, she enveloped me in its fabric, a makeshift garment that provided both comfort and cover. Guiding me along the shore, we arrived at a collection of simple homes constructed from dry mud, each humble dwelling attesting to the village's foundation. Among these dwellings stood a house crafted from sun-baked clay, a testament to the villagers' enduring craftsmanship.
Stepping through the door, we entered a room where a young boy, slightly taller than myself, was engrossed in the glow of his tablet. A fleeting smile graced his face, quickly replaced by a discontented expression. Undeterred, the woman led me forward, entering a door that led to a small bedroom adjacent to the kitchen. She flipped the light switch, filling the room with warm light, and retrieved a set of clothes that seemed to belong to the little boy.
The door creaked open a few seconds later, revealing the gaze of the boy as I changed into the set of clothes. Without hesitation, the boy's eyes blazing with anger, landed a powerful blow that sent me reeling. His voice echoed with accusation, "DON'T WEAR MY CLOTHES." The woman swiftly intervened, leading him away and closing the door behind them, leaving me on the floor in a loose shirt and without pants, my senses saturated with the weight of his cries.
few minutes later, the woman returned to the room, her presence a gentle reassurance. With a tender touch, she lifted my feet, completing the task of clothing me. Afterward, we exited the room, stepping into the light that filtered through the curtains. As we emerged, my gaze fell upon the young boy, his form huddled in the corner. The woman's voice was soft but firm, coaxing him to emerge from his sanctuary. Obediently, he approached, casting an uncertain glance my way.
"Hello, little one," the woman's voice held a warm undertone as she introduced herself as "my mom." She gestured towards herself, an unspoken question in her eyes. I offered a small smile and a simple answer, "Mom." She then directed my attention towards the boy, and as I returned his gaze, she encouraged me to introduce him as "brother." "Brother," I said.
"Mom" smiled warmly, her eyes seeking mine as she inquired about my name. It was as if she hoped to unearth a memory from my time as a fish, but the past remained elusive. My response was met with understanding, her words gentle and reassuring. She suggested that we would decide on a name together after dinner, a gesture that warmed my heart.
As dinner preparations got underway, "mom" beckoned for "brother," instructing him to join me outside to look around the village until dinner. As we ventured outdoors, his impatient hands yanked at my clothes, his voice echoing with insistent demands to "take it off!" I held onto it with a firm grip, tugging it down to ensure the shirt wouldn't come off. "Don't stretch my clothes out!" he yelled in response to my resolute resistance against his pull. Frustration simmered as his tactics yielded no obedience. Determined, he seized my arm and led me across the village to the second floor of a nearby hill, his grip unyielding. At the summit, stood another boy, his stature on par with "brother's," yet his eyes held an artful slant, like natural eyeliner. Warmth emanated from him as we approached, his query genuine: "What's your name?" But before I could reply with "no name," as "mom" had suggested, "brother" pulled him away, disrupting my chance at an introduction.
While they conversed, "brother's" friend demeanor shifted, his friendly facade replaced by an expression of contempt whenever his gaze turned to me. Soon, "brother" returned to me, his tone eager as he suggested we ascend the towering tree that dominated the landscape. The tree soared like a titan, its branches inviting conquest and challenge. I remained silent, unsure of my voice, as "brother" once again seized my arm, guiding us upward until we reached the safety of the first substantial branch. There, he abruptly changed course and descended, leaving me teetering on the precipice. My attempt to follow was fraught with uncertainty; each movement heightened the sensation of slipping. Panic gripped me, rendering me mute and powerless, my plea for release silenced by my own trepidation. As "brother" returned to the ground, he and his friend unleashed a barrage of stones, an unrelenting assault. Clinging to the tree trunk, I felt the palpitations of my heart mingling with the rustling leaves. A sudden, jarring impact struck my head, a rivulet of warmth marking the path of blood down my forehead. In a brutal twist, another stone struck true, propelling me from the branch to the unyielding earth below. My skull collided with the tree's unyielding root, the world around me fading, and just before my consciousness slipped away in a cascade of darkness, "brother" hastily removed the clothes off my body.
I woke up in a haze, a pillow pressed to my face, causing me to gasp for air and struggle for what felt like an eternity. The ordeal abruptly ended when the sound of a rolling cart echoed through the room after a soft ding from an elevator. As the pillow was lifted away, I saw "brother's" furious expression shifted to shock upon seeing my open eyes. Yet, something was different—there were splashes of water suspended in the air, accompanied by the presence of the fish from my earliest memories, gracefully floating about.
Moments later, a nurse entered, her cart laden with bandages and medicine. She greeted me as "Moriah," tending to my bandages before departing. "Brother," undeterred by his failed attempt on my life, gleefully inquired if I approved of the name he had chosen. Seated in silence, I listened as he persisted, revealing the meaning and origins of the name "Moriah." His words underscored his belief that the name signified my perceived disappointment to God, laying the blame squarely on my gender. His words were laden with disdain, asserting that my existence merely reaffirmed the notion that girls were a letdown. He spared no detail in his degrading monologue, even targeting "mom" and attributing her supposed misunderstandings to his order.
He recounted his misguided aspirations for a shared father figure with the friend from the mountain, a wish that had ultimately led to the adoption of a sibling he deemed as "disgraced"; subsequently unsettling his assumed position within the family hierarchy. He expressed his resentment, recalling how "mom" had shifted her attention away from him, the supposed man of the house, and stopped following his orders, only to inflict pain on him. His vitriolic tirade continued until the sound of approaching footsteps diverted his attention. The girl from before returned, accompanied by a tall man, towering over her by nearly two feet. The man ushered "brother" out of the room and began to examine me, asking questions for what felt like an hour. Suddenly, as his examination concluded, "mom" appeared out of nowhere, bursting into the room and rushing to my side, enveloping me in a tearful embrace. Amid her emotional outpouring, she recounted her anxiety, recounting how on the day she had adopted me, I had teetered on the brink of death.
While her hand gently touched mine, I noticed a solitary fish, unlike the others, floating near her. It circled around her form, unlike the rest that meandered through the room. Unlike the goldfish, its appearance was different, and rather than a golden hue, it held an air of danger, reminiscent of a creature I could not yet fathom. Hastily, I averted my gaze, focusing my attention elsewhere, only to see "brother" departing from the room.
As the atmosphere cleared of my brother's presence, "mom" began to speak, her words carrying the warmth of reassurance. She confided in me, expressing her reluctance to entrust my care to "brother" and pleaded for my understanding of his actions, urging me not to resent him for it. Her voice held a gentle cadence as she shared her perspective, inviting me to empathize with "brother's" upbringing. She recounted his early years, marked by the absence of a fatherly presence, which left a profound void in his life. Her voice brimmed with empathy as she described her dual roles as both mother and father, acknowledging the limitations of a single parent's time.
Her mornings were devoted to work, followed by an evening filled with domestic chores. To compensate for her absence, she found herself gravitating towards buying him whatever his heart desired, hoping it might alleviate his sense of loneliness. It was during this time that his fervent wish for a brother emerged. She recounted his attempts to matchmake her with the father of his friend, a tale that held complexities she deemed best left for me to understand when older. The request for a brother seemed unattainable, and the alternatives seemed to only exacerbate his frustration.
Her voice carried a tender sincerity as she revealed her moment of discovery—the day she spotted me in the ocean. In that instant, she knew she couldn't leave me behind. With a resolve born from compassion, she welcomed me into her household, intertwining my fate with "brother's." Her hope was that, with time, our bond might blossom into the companionship he longed for.