I watched the rainbows between the hazy clouds and rain lessening on the jade pasture. The butterflies dancing apart and moving their wings like glistening lights. Sun’s vivid and tepid on the bitter waves that speckled on the wet land. The flouting wind that runs across the fractured blocks of rocks and the night’s moon that glares on every arch. I hear the echoes of laughter that surrounds me every midnight. Sometimes they’re frosty voices, sometimes they’re daunting voices and then I stench the figures of demise and fester. I can’t realize that my mother left us for wealth and neither my father did. Perhaps she wanted to start a fresh page and forget the past. Perhaps she wanted to look for another lover. But she isn’t my mother anymore; she has never been and she will never be.
I was on my way that day when I saw her; she was in the marketplace with a guy in my age. Perhaps he was her son she looked for and wanted to care about more than me and Michael. When I tried to approach her and look straight into her blue eyes and tell her the real person she is in the inside. But my father held me back and told me to disregard her and not hassle about her any longer, because she forgot us; she forgot her factual children she never concerned to ask about.
When we returned home and it felt to me like an unusual house. Every young man has the right to walk into the kitchen and ask about lunch to his mom and we have the right too, but we haven’t got a mother to ask. She betrayed my father and she will never expand his heart ever again and so ours. Michael and I already have got used to live without her and fritter our days with our precious father. I look at him like both parents. I watch him set up dinner like mothers would do. I watch him bake the flour and I listen to his heart even if he didn’t speak out. I know that sometimes a father can’t do what mothers do, but my dad was capable of anything and I trusted him other than anyone in my life.
I was never able to wound his heart. I wasn't sturdy enough to face him though. He had the precise in every situation and every pace he had made in his life. Sometimes I pay attention to him while he is asleep; talking to himself in his sleep about his miserable life. He stopped himself from marriage to another woman, who truly loved him, but he stood there without a word of “I accept to spend my life with you Elisa”, because my brother needed him more than I did and if he did; he knew that Michael wouldn’t cope with his new life. Michael used to believe in my mother and he blames my father for that day when he allowed her to leave to Hawaii, but he loved him more than her when he felt how he cared for him. He is my only young brother and he is twelve. Although sometimes he acts immature, he had always been a superior brother.
After that daylight when we came home and took a nap, my father left home without telling us where he was going. Usually he tells us where he is going, but he didn't that nighttime. I stayed vexed all night and waiting in the living room and staring at the door; hopeful that he would come in. I waited until 3 am and he ever came so I decided to get my brother some slumber and sleep. Then I hoped that the dawn would please us all.
When I lay asleep, losing my skin's tenderness and heard the rain drops like pointing arrows soaring into hierarchy stems. I felt sore without my father adjoining home. I slept and until the daybreak sun rose. I woke up, devoid of even washing my face; I ran to my father's bedroom; hoping I would see him lying on the mattress contentedly. The sun shimmered through the room, but the bed shading the right area and forming a long shadow towards the mirror. I approached in to see evidently, when it was too sunlit to see visibly. We had hefty windows that enclosed a full wall. I came in nearer, more than I first did and nobody was there except for the pillows that slipped over each other and the spotless fawn mattress with the grey cover that was on top of it.
I came yet closer to see it more undoubtedly; eager it was just the sun, but it bowed out that my father was not there. I left his bedroom and ran into the kitchen in suspense to see him cooking my favorite supper. I ran to the bathrooms hoping he was washing his face for a different dazzling day. I ran to the living room on tenterhooks he was watching his favorite morning TV show. I ran to the garden hoping to see him picking the trash, but the place was vacant from his figure and I instantly ran upstairs and washed my face. I dressed, wore my shoes and approached the doorway and just about to turn the door knob.
A lofty man, with long limbs and skinny muscles that held a tan envelop and a file filled by thick papers came in front of me and greeted. I stared at him peculiarly to know what he came for, but lastly after I led him to the living room and we both sat. I saw his badge and I knew he was a police officer and once he started looking around and abruptly to the kitchen doorway where there was an ailing sound coming from the kitchen. I got up on my feet and approached the kitchen; keeping an eye on the cop behind me and listening to the sound that engrossed me towards the door way. I saw Michael messing and reaching for the bowl in the cabinets above the counters. I stared at him as he approached and swiftly the cop came in holding his hat and his eyes glint as he started to speak.
