Lacking Fragments: A Novel (Completed)

Maya's Favor for Secrecy V

"I'm sorry," returned Kiki.

     "Why? I mean, why are you saying sorry?"

     "It's not entirely my fault, but—" she answered, "but because of me, for telling me, it seems like you've broken your friend's favor... and I kind of feel the need to say sorry to you, Father."

     "It's alright."

     "I'm sorry again."

     "It's alright," I repeated. "Don't let it linger in your chest, just let it go. Besides, I was the one who persuaded you to listen, right? Everything is alright. Feeling guilty is unnecessary."

     "If Maya knows about this, she'll be mad, won't she?"

     "I can't be sure," I answered in all honesty. Now that she was gone and far from the land of the living, I couldn't be sure of anything involving a dead friend's feelings.

     "In a man's life," I then continued, "there will be times when some answers to important questions are irredeemable, unknown even."

     My daughter, Kiki, pondered what I said. By the expression of her face, it seemed like she couldn't fully grasp the meaning of the words— the statement, the things I stated. As if amidst the deepening night, she realized there's more behind facades.

     "What's bothering you?" I asked.

     "I'll ask a question again."

     "Shoot," I said, "and don't be shy."

     "It's concerning your friend's favor," began my daughter. "She dislikes anyone to find she glows yellow? Why keep it a secret?"

     "That I can't be sure, too. If you believe what she said, 'It won't do us any better', maybe she meant people will only think of us as crazy. That is, if anyone finds out. Vanity might be lost. But if it's only me who'll face the rejection of the mass, I won't even bother with it. I don't care what they think. I'm fine here. Contented here. I am glad to be here with you and your mother. And as long as I have you two, I won't care what they think. I can't care less if anyone else in the world thinks I'm mad."

     "What?" my daughter disapproved. "No!"

     "It's just the way it is. The way I think."

     "No, I mean, I doubt they'll think of you and Maya as crazy people, Father."

     "Little one," I said in tone of a little serenity; I would like her to understand the situation more. "Please, listen. I don't pay much care to what people think of me. For one, it's me who knows my side of the story. Not them. I'm good here. I'm living good here with you the way I am now. Well, this morning story— it's concerning Maya herself. Not me. I'm only saying that maybe, that time, Maya believed people would be laughing at us, if ever we flex her sudden transformation. Her glow. It's not like magic happens in everyday life. It happens when no one expects. We live in the world where magic can't be explained through words. People like us don't live in a magical land. This is real world. And I swear to you, it can be so painful. If so, endure... even the harshest words from people's mouths."

     Each word, each sentence, she tried to absorb. She bore deep expression of curiosity; of eyeful inquiry, like how elders think of a legacy they'd leave behind before they truly pass away and then subside.

     Truly, how naïve yet inquisitive little children can be? I think, if I were to apprise a lie—a fake story—my daughter might still be interested listening about it. As if limitation isn't found on the nude of her face; as if the word: constraint doesn't belong to her book of vocabulary.