[3;12 PM] [sunday]
[january 13 2024]
[Back at the house,]
[Afternoon. Before blue hour]
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The rain drummed softly against the window, and the sky was a dull, cloudy grey. I lay on the brown, puffy couch by the wall in the living room, absorbed in testing and learning various things from ChatGPT on my phone. My earpiece was plugged in, but I wasn't listening to music—just the emptiness around me, a kind of mental blankness that dulled my surroundings. I focused on my task, trying to better understand storytelling techniques, how to craft flashbacks, and how to make dialogue feel more authentic—all things related to writing.
Beside the sliding door, my mom was lounging on the grey couch, propped on her side. Her earpiece was in, too, as she watched a live paranormal stream. My youngest sibling, a five-year-old, stared at a YouTube video on his phone, oblivious to everything else.
A few seconds passed before my mom suddenly stood up, muttering, "Alright!" With enthusiasm, she walked toward the exit door, my sibling trailing behind her like a duckling. I glanced at her, then checked the time on my phone: 3:12.
"Ah. It's time to pick up my younger brother from school," I thought to myself, watching her leave through the door and leaving me behind.
Not long after, she returned, peeking her head through the door and calling, "Kal! Help me!" Her voice still cheerful, almost excited.
I looked up. "For what?"
She replied, "Help me pick up Kael from school! It's raining out here! You'll have to step out of the car and hold the umbrella for them!"
I stood up obediently, tossing my phone and earpiece aside, and headed outside. My mom was in the back of the car, opening the bonnet and pulling out two umbrellas—a large, transparent one and a small, dark one. They were starkly contrasting in color.
"Here," she said, handing me the larger umbrella. "You'll use this one for yourself when you step out of the car, then give the small one to Kael and Kela to shield them from the rain, and walk them back to the car."
I took the umbrella, but before I could head out, my younger sibling, Akip, made some baby noises and sluggishly pointed at the umbrella. I whispered casually, "This isn't for play, you little shit."
My mom, still in her happy mood, ignored me and said, "Oh, maybe he wants to try the big one, Kal. Here, give that to me."
I handed her the large umbrella, and she bent down to Akip, treating him affectionately with a warm smile. He nodded happily, innocently, before they both walked down the front yard. It wasn't far from the car, but the rain hit the pavement with steady force.
My mom, shielding Akip with the umbrella, reassured him as they walked, creating a scene that seemed vibrant and warm—a loving, functional family, the kind I had longed for. It was the kind of experience I wanted for my younger siblings, to give them the care and affection I never had.
I stared at them, numb. I felt nothing—just a cold, empty empathy. I hated how my parents had always treated their children differently, how their love for us changed over time.
Flashback
The classroom had smelled like paper, old wood, and the sharp tang of chalk. The hustle of students around me felt distant, like I was watching it through a fog. My father's shadow appeared in the doorway. His presence cut through the chaos with a sharpness I could never ignore. I remember his figure—tall, heavy, like a storm waiting to break.
"Kal," he muttered, his cigarette dangling from his lips, the ember glowing faintly in the dim light. His voice was gruff, like it always was when he didn't care to say much. "Take this."
Without a word, he tossed the wet, hole-ridden umbrella onto my desk, right onto the stack of papers I had been scribbling on. The papers were soaked within seconds, the ink smudging into nothingness. I glanced up, but his eyes were already turned away, uninterested in anything I had to say.
"Dad... you're wetting my papers," I muttered, voice barely audible.
"I don't care," he replied, his voice indifferent, almost cold. He didn't even look back. And that was it. That was the extent of my father's concern for me in that moment. I remember feeling a strange knot in my chest, the kind you get when you know something isn't right but can't put your finger on it.
I stared down at the wet papers in front of me, begrudgingly. The difference in how my parents treated their children over time was evident. Anyone would want to meet someone at their best, to experience the person they could be. But no one truly understands how it feels to be on the other side—treated as an afterthought.
End of flashback
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"Kal, let's go!" my mom called out, still cheerful, after taking care of Akip. She handed me the wet transparent umbrella, and I silently obeyed. I walked to the passenger seat beside her, the large umbrella wedged between my knees, the small one still in my hand.
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[3;29 PM] [sunday]
[January 13 2025]
[Inside the car ,while waiting for the car to warm up and be available and safe to drive. By the entrance road.]
[They arrived at the school at (3;45) it is when the blue hour starts because of a few factors.]
The rain softly tapped against the windshield, and the world outside was a wash of grey, the droplets streaking down the glass, blending into the puddles gathering on the road. I sat in the passenger seat, the large transparent umbrella wedged between my knees, the smaller black one resting on my lap. I stared out at the rainy street, the misty haze making everything feel distant and muted.
My mother sat in the driver's seat, her attention focused on her phone, scrolling through Facebook with a content smile. The car was warm, the comfort of the cushioned seat drawing me in, making it all too easy to feel drowsy, especially with the rain drumming steadily against the roof. I leaned back, the soothing atmosphere tempting me to close my eyes, but I fought it, focusing instead on the distant hum of the engine and the cool rain outside.
"Mom," I spoke, breaking the silence. My voice was steady, but there was a hint of something else beneath the surface.
"Hmm?" she hummed back without looking up, lost in whatever post or video caught her attention.
I shifted slightly, but my gaze stayed fixed on the road, the puddles forming and splashing as the rain poured steadily. "I... I got a 97 out of 100 in English a few days ago," I said slowly, my words deliberate as if carefully choosing each one. "But the other subjects... they're barely passing. Everything is above 60, which is enough to pass, but... I didn't get any credits except for English." I paused, trying to gauge her reaction, but she kept scrolling. "I've been struggling with things like story-making and scene crafting... Can you help me, Mom? I need your guidance."
I let the silence stretch, but she didn't acknowledge it. Without looking up, she replied in her usual breezy tone, "Yeah, yeah, sure. Alright, let's go!" She put her phone down and started the car, pulling us out of the entrance road and into the neighborhood, completely oblivious to the frustration bubbling up inside me.
A quiet sigh escaped my lips, the weight of her indifference settling on me like a cold blanket. "Fuck your ignorance, Mom," I muttered under my breath, though I doubted she'd even hear it. My elbow found the armrest, and I rested my head against my palm, staring out at the rainy, gloomy scene before me. The line of cars waiting outside the school slowly thinned as parents collected their children, each one either shielding their kids with umbrellas or walking through the rain, indifferent to the weather.
Eventually, the last car in front of us pulled away, leaving us to finally approach the school. My mom stopped the car, and I understood what I had to do. I nodded quietly, bracing myself. I reached for the transparent umbrella, opening it with a slow motion as I opened the car door and stepped outside into the rain, the cold droplets hitting my skin.
I adjusted the umbrella over my head and made my way toward the waiting bay, where Kael and Kela were standing. Kela's eyes lit up when she saw me. "Kael! It's Ekal!" she exclaimed, a burst of excitement in her voice. A faint smile tugged at my lips, but it felt strained, like I was trying to convince myself to feel something when the emptiness inside was overpowering. Despite her infectious enthusiasm, that hollow feeling still clung to me, lingering.
Kael didn't seem as excited but still acknowledged me with a simple, "Yeah, yeah." As they both shielded themselves with the mini umbrella i just gave, walking toward the car, I stood there for a moment, watching them. The faint smile I'd given Kela faded away the moment they turned their backs, leaving me standing alone in the rain. The emptiness returned, as if it had never left, leaving my smile-once so genuine-untraceable, like sand slipping through my fingers.