LACKING FRAGMENTS: A Novel (Completed)

Chapter 2: An Uncanny Dream

II. An Uncanny Dream

The sun fell entirely. It left without one-bit trace of its sunlight all the way from the balcony. Across the whole area of the provincial subdivision, it left like it usually disappears during 5:30 to 6:00 o'clock in the evening. As if the entirety of seawater looming across the horizon shrouded the sun, the fiery celestial body. The sun left when I was done with my carnival story.

     What a perfect timing.

     I ended it with Maya illuminating. I thought, the dusk might be the nature's great way to conclude my narrative. In the end I'm glad my daughter was here with me to hear it; that is, whether she'd believe the story or not, whether she'd take it or leave it. However, even if I still got the nighttime to continue what happened after, I already decided not to tell her anyway. Despite everything, I excluded the part where we had separated ways, to our own apartments— since, to me, that'd be sort of boring. Also, I did not tell what I couldn't remember; mainly, what Maya's reaction to her bizarre transformation turned out to be. Because in point of fact, I had no memory of the face she made when her body turned into something like a lantern.

     Was she surprised? Did we panic? I cannot answer those questions.

     Although, if I made something up, something far-stretched from the truth like some kind of a happy ending, it might just ruin the accuracy of the whole tale itself.

     "Is that true, Father?"

     "All of it," I answered her, "from start to finish."

     "But," Kiki interrupted, looking like one of headstrong children ready to argue, "I doubt it's the end of it. Now you make me wonder what happened to the both of you. Up there. Did anyone see her glowing?"

     "No one," I replied, "none but myself."

———

My wife, Annalise, returned home with a packed dinner she bought from her favorite food stand near the firm where she works. By the time I heard the doorbell rings it was almost 8 o'clock in the evening, as per the watch on my right wrist. At first guess I knew it was my wife, because for years I have known no one here; none from neighborhood, besides the three of us— a small family, you could say. By the said time of the evening, all the three of us had starving stomachs; dinner would be the best solution for these, of course.

     Kiki, Annalise, and I were sitting at the dining table. Together. Amidst the family dinner, we were about to have an open conversation, too.

     "Sweetie," said my wife, "you done with your homework for tomorrow?"

     I noticed Kiki's eyes widened a bit, and by it I guess she didn't have an idea of anything; in particular to the assignment her mother was speaking about.

     "One of your teachers e-mailed you," my wife continued. "Just this morning. Said you have one crucial task to comply. One performance task, fifty percent of the grading system. Kind of a sudden requirement, I say. Are you done with it?"

     Kiki didn't look in her e-mails this afternoon. Neither did I. She played games and listened to my story until dusk; I became narrator. So we didn't know there is a compliance for the elementary school. And my daughter, as we three sat altogether, looked at me for a quite some time with both of her eyes appearing confused; as if she waits for me to just back her up. Like I had to jump and save her. Well, I guess she got my genes in procrastination. Since my wife always hits the ground running, I'm the one to blame for the sluggish genes. And so now, I didn't know what to input for tonight's conversation.