ADDICTIVE.
I did not know how else to describe the feeling.
As I watched the mini galaxy swirl around in Meteor's tummy pouch, a strange, compulsive force acted in me. Dazed and awestruck, my arm extended forwards and disappeared inside.
The supernaturalness of the situation snapped my brain awake at once. I flinched backwards and retracted my hand. But I realized I pulled something along with it.
Somehow, I now grasped a small glass jar.
My gaze darted back to Meteor in my other hand. Sure enough, the pouch I reached inside in now zipped itself closed. Meteor returned to look like the awfully clean, harmless, cuddly teddy bear he was. I placed him back down on Lumi's pillow, right beside her snoozing face.
My chuckles grew to a low but hearty laughter.
"Thank you, Meteor. Thank you for granting my wish. Our wish. I don't know if you're a genie that can grant a limited number of wishes, but please continue to do. Grant my wishes until my dear daughter Lumi becomes an all-round, omnipotent superstar."
There was no response. I paused, taking in the silence, before I turned my attention to the jar.
I held it in the air and scrutinized it, turning and twisting it around. The jar was half-full of a beautiful golden-brown viscous liquid I presumed was honey. Taped around the other side of the jar was a label.
I read the blurb letter by letter, syllable by syllable:
[Leftovers of a dilute concentrate of honey. Sourced from the Goddess of Healing's treasured bees. It seems to be helpful in healing and improving the voice.]
The corners of my mouth could not help but curl in delight and expectation. It was a dream come true. It was exactly what I wished for.
Lumi's trauma led her to stay uncomfortable with speaking. But impatience boiled within me. I could not wait for her to call me Dad with her voice as sweet as honey. She would act spoiled and coy and show me off to her friends and fans and...
I shook my head and gave myself a wry smile. I was getting ahead of myself.
One step at a time.
I needed to heal her traumas first: both her physical and mental traumas. Her skinny, malnourished body and submissive fright of people would have to go. Then she needed practice; lots and lots of practice before she could debut on the stage.
I looked around the decadent room. I did not understand how it was even possible for Lumi to bear living in such harsh conditions. But glow-ups started from the inside out. Her environment needed to change.
Giving her one last gentle kiss on her forehead, I rose and headed over to the bathroom.
It was as dirty and messy as the room. I groped for the light switch, but sure enough, it was not working. A sullen, coldness rolled down my shoulders.
With a deep breath, I flipped open the toilet cover and regretted it immediately. The stench was unbearable. I closed the cover as fast as my hands could move and reached for the flush. It too did not work.
Fearing the worst, I turned my attention to the sink. Dust and cobwebs covered it all over. Parts of the metal rusted.
"She didn't use any of the money I sent back to pay for the utilities," I murmured to myself in half-disbelief.
I should have known that from my previous life. Yet, said prior knowledge did not prevent the sudden wave of anger from boiling within me. Anger that became a creeping, compulsive impulse. The itch. It was back.
I dug my curled fingers into my palms and hoped the sharp burst of pain would calm the tremors of my arms. It sort of did. I took deep breaths, counting to ten before picturing a Lumi's sweet smile. I reminded myself the horrors of my past that I did not want to repeat.
The corners of my lips furled into a wry, exasperated smile.
I, myself, needed some healing first. My drug and smoking addiction would have to go before I could help Lumi. Any small disturbance in my mood would kickstart the cravings. I had believed my mental fortitude was enough to hold the addiction response at bay. I was wrong; it was obvious I still needed a lot of work.
Cleaning this god-forsaken place up would be as beneficial for me as it was for Lumi. I needed to remove the triggers, and that would have to start with getting some water.
With a deep breath and heavy heart, I scrolled through my contacts for a number I had not spoken with for a very long time.
"Mr. Rockern," I said, not knowing how to continue.
But much to my surprise, the other side of the phone let out a low chuckle, ignoring my silence.
"It's a surprise hearing from you, after all that happened."
"... you knew?"
Mr. Rockern was an old military retiree who also had a spiel with drugs, but he has been clean for over thirty years. Nowadays, he ran a community center program and a private real estate gig aimed to help addicts. Recovering addicts, such as myself.
Meeting him when I was on the streets was a major turning point of my life. I owed a lot to him.
My voice was shaky, a little ridden with guilt. In my previous life, shame had grappled a better hold of my heart after the incident. I had never returned. I had left Lumi to fend for herself and was never able to repay his gratitude.
"My tenant died of overdose on my property. It's impossible not to get involved.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, my voice turning hoarse at his bluntness.
For a moment, Mr. Rockern fell silent over the phone, before his voice turned sharp.
"Were you aware of—"
I knew what he was saying before he finished.