Visions of Fate

11. STEPPING OUT

I stared at the sun. The actual sun seated majestically on top clear blue sky. The air outside smelt fresh and authentic, unlike what I was so familiar with. My compound looked even bigger than it felt on the inside.

For so many years I'd dreamt about this day. One of those dreams that you expect to remain a dream forever because there was no hope of reality. But now, look where I was. Outside. Inhaling fresh air that hadn't gotten through the process of our dusty windows to be pronounced ventilation.

This air smelled like nature, leaves, and good coffee that our neighbors probably brewed to get through their day, unlike the warmer, refined version at home. But even as I stood on the yard outside, taking my first breath of fresh air, I still managed to gaze at the simple beautification and modernity of our home. One that I had lived in for seventeen years, but hadn't ever viewed altogether.

My childhood home was a serene oasis. Surrounded by manicured evergreen trees and vibrant flowers, the elegant grey two-storied building exuded warmth and sophistication. A sleek marble porch complemented its facade, while a sleek black Mercedes in the garage added a touch of luxury. The thoughtful design and loving care created a breathtaking home.

A home that never served as a house to me. One that was from birth designed for protection and shelter, not to bloom and beautify and live up to its name. I walked quite aimlessly around my compound, twirling a little in my steps as I was bedazzled at nature's beauty and authentic smell that filled the air.

I felt so free. Like a prisoner born behind bars that was only only being released for the first time ever. Like my freedom was boundless, and my strides unstoppable. So this was what normal people enjoyed.

"Come on, Emily. We don't want to be late now do we?" Mom stood under the shade of the garage, carrying her black leather bag and her keys in hand. I quickly, and with growing ecstasy, jogged over to where she stood.

We both stepped under the dark shade of the garage together and I couldn't help but run my hands through the slippery body of my Mom's car. It felt so real. Exactly like I'd dreamt of after binging on so many movies. The windows, door handle, rear view mirror. It all felt exactly like I'd imagined all my life. And now I was actually here, next to a real-life version of what I'd always imagined. Saying this was a dream come true would be a vast understatement.

I didn't even know I was beaming until I glanced up at Mom. My expression suddenly fell as I caught that particular emotion dancing between those big brown eyes. Exactly the one you'd give a hungry dog uncivilly munching on a small piece of meat that was found somewhere deep within a garbage can.

Pity.

Immediately I recognized that emotion, Mom replaced it with something much more radiant, shoving her bag in the backseat and hurriedly tucking herself in the driver's seat, making me mirror her movements.

I climbed into the passenger seat and immediately got hit with an unfamiliar scent. The interior of the old car exuded a comforting aroma that was reminiscent of the bygone era. The scent was a rich blend of leather polish, a subtle hint of wood polish and a trace of a familiar brand of feminine perfume Mom seemed to be wearing right then.

This overall effect was a comforting, inviting scent that boosted the urge to settle in and revel in the charm of the bygone era. But that was the opposite of what I did, though my energy drained body begged for the release.

That pitiful look in Mom's eyes haunted me, even as the former pulled out of our yard. Because I knew I couldn't be deceived – that was exactly what she felt about me. Pity. Even the word stung my heart to shreds. And in that moment, as I took a breathtaking view of the surroundings of our neighborhood, that was exactly how I felt towards myself.