I Am Noor

November: Dark Genesis

Nov. 1st, Fri-
8 AM: Edgemont has been cancelled today for the first snow of the season. Three inches of crystalline snowflakes dust the lawn. I can't tell you how relieved I am to be able to stay home.
I am gazing at a photograph of Mum and Walter. It's framed beautifully and shows the two of them standing in front of Borobudur, which is home to one of the most iconic Buddhist temples in Indonesia.
The sky is blue, and Mum's smile is brilliant. But her eyes project a certain sadness, even as Walter's lanky arm attempts to pull her in close.
Just looking at Walter in that photograph makes me want to toss it into the garbage. But I'm Catholic, after all, and sometimes we're too superstitious for our own good. So instead of destroying it (I couldn't desecrate an image of my mother), I place it gingerly on the lace doily adorning my bookshelf.
Mum was born in Torajalan in South Sulawesi, and she has the most beautiful black eyes in the world. So do most of my Indonesian relatives, but Walter's eyes are a dull grey. Mine are richly emerald, which initially surprises many because they're so unusual.
I don't care what anyone says: that man, Walter, who's as stuffy as his ivy-league Catholic colleagues and spends hours in his study pouring over dusty texts, is not my father. His tyranny makes me sick to my stomach.
Someday, I'll find the enigmatic stranger who gave me my milky skin and jade eyes.

Nov. 2nd, Sat-
Revelation: They've scheduled me a doctor's appointment for Friday. A doctor! On the refrigerator calendar downstairs, Walter circled the 8th. Apparently, I am to see a Dr. Rosenblatt on that day at eight thirty.
How could they do this to me?
Why hasn't Mum said anything about it?!
Whywhywhwywhywhywhy?
Okay, Noor.
Think.
Just think and breathe.

9:57- I didn't eat breakfast.
I refuse.

10:15- Walter eventually came knocking. But as is usual for him, he didn't wait for an answer.
"Noor? Can we talk?" he asked, his hand still on the door-knob. "Your mother's pretty upset, and Mr. Starr's been worried about your attendance. I don't think we can hold off on this any longer."
"Hold off on what?" I snarled. "I go to school every day. You drive me there! How can I have an attendance problem?"
"When I drop you off and you go inside, do you actually stay in the building?"
I froze. Mrs. Beckan, I thought in a panic. She told!
The door swung open and Walter peeked inside.
"Get out of here!" I shrieked. "I'm still in my nightgown, for God's sake!"
Walter pursed his lips. With his shoes polished and blue academic blazer perfectly starched, he looked every bit the disapproving PhD lecturer. "Then get dressed," he said blandly, "because you should've been up hours ago. C'mon."
"No."
"Noor Izarra! We've all had about enough of this!"
"Oh, so you know my middle name?" A pearl of sweat formed at my temple and trickled down to my bodice, resting there in the white lace. "I came to the US to stay with you, and all this time you've not paid any attention to me except from what you've been told in rumors...Dad."
Finally taken aback, Walter's eyes narrowed. It seemed that some color drained from his craggy cheekbones.
"You were sent here for me to protect you!" he replied. "Your poor mother had seven boys to take care of in that tiny house, and she'd just had you. Her husband had just died, she had no money, and you were--"
"I was what?" I asked him sharply. "Trouble from the start? Too attached to my rosary? A case study in Creepy Child Syndrome? Are any of those what you were going to say?"
Walter held up his hands. "That's not what this is about, sweet-heart."
"Don't call me that." I turned away from him and crossed my arms. I felt more sweat-beads forming, and with them came traces of the terrible stench that had plagued me in October. I'd actually thought it had gotten better.
(But that would have been too much mercy for me, wouldn't it have, Sketchbook?)
"You were delicate!" Walter insisted. "That's all I meant."
"...Noor? Apa kabar?" That sweet voice belonged to Mum. Behind Walter, I could hear her coming up the stairs.
"Baik. I'm fine, Mum."
"So you'll get up, then? We could re-heat your breakfast..."
"I'm done dealing with you," I told him. "Absolutely done. You never even talked to me! From day one you never asked me who my friends were or what my favorite subject was. You didn't get to know me. You didn't even feed me; your maid did that before you let her go last year! But the minute the principal calls you from Edgemont, you storm into my life, take away my things, take away everything that means anything to me, and yet expect me to have these warm and fuzzy feelings? Hell, you're a Catholic psychologist, and before last month you didn't even know that I prayed the rosary every night! I know what you're about. So you can leave-- now."
"I'm not going anywhere," retorted, Walter. "Maybe you can't see it, but everyone else around you can! You've been moody for your entire Senior year, drifting in and out of class and wandering around in the woods, of all places! You leave campus, stop eating, get sick all over the place, and then start eating again like you've been starved! You've literally been so ill that we were prepared to take you right to Dayton Medical. So you're getting up, Noor. The games stop now."
"Make me," I said.
"Damnit, stop acting like a little demon!"
With a sudden fury that surprised even me, I scrambled across the bed and heaved myself at him.
"Noor! What the f--"
I struck Walter in the chest with my shoulder, pushing him back across the threshold with all the force I could muster. His long fingers scrabbled at the wall for traction. Seeing my chance, I slammed the door on his right hand-- hard.
There came a muffled scream and a litany of curse words. I could hear Mum behind the door, wailing.
"You broke them! You broke my fingers, you little hellion!"
Exhaling deeply, I turned the lock and retreated to a corner, sinking to the floor with my back against the wall. By this time, my long nightie was soaked with sweat. My hair, tangled and tousled in a thousand directions, didn't look much better.
Four weeks ago, I would have never thought I'd be capable of such behavior.
Noor was good. Noor was kind. Noor lowered her gaze, studied, dressed for Christ and loved the Immaculate Mother more than her own life.
Where is that Noor?

1PM: There has been little movement outside my room since The Incident. I am still in the same corner.
For once, I don't feel remorseful, sad, terrified, or ashamed. Even as tendrils of this ungodly stench announce themselves, cloying in my nostrils until I can barely breathe, I don't feel disgusted.
I feel alive.