When Bluebirds Fly | ✔

Part One : Chapter Sixteen

"Hello, Isaac!" I cheerfully greeted him, showing my entire set of pearly whites. "How are you doing?"

Goddamn, this was more draining than I thought it would be.

He raised his eyebrow, giving an awkward, sceptical smile. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's wonderful!" I threw my hands up in the air ridiculously, internally cringing of my gaudy show. "Aren't you feeling wonderful today?"

I wish I could stop feeling. Stop feeling this wonderful lie I was living in.

Isaac's face grew solemn now as he approached me warily and placed a gentle hand on my quivering shoulder. "Hey, are you---"

"Do you want me to fill up the milkshake machine?" I interrupted, sliding his hand off with a smooth jerk of my shoulder. "I know you hate it, you always get a few drops on your shirt and it gets sticky and then you whine about it . . . "

"It's you who complains---"

"You know what?" I brushed past him to the milkshake machine. "I'll fix this right now for you."

"Stop," he said peevishly and I turned around in consternation.

"Woah, woah, woah!" I exclaimed dramatically, putting up an exaggerated version of a stupefied face which made my face muscles ache. "Is the sweet boy mad at me?"

His mouth opened, then closed and he sighed softly. "Let's sit."

"We aren't paid for sitting---"

"There are zero customers and our boss went back for a smoke. Come on now," he insisted and without my response, confidently strode towards the table by the window.

I kept his confidence intact by obediently following him the next minute and taking a seat on the opposite red stool.

"Nyctinasty," Isaac blurted out and I gawked at him. "It's the tendency of the flowers to close themselves- their petals at night after blossoming the entire day."

"Okay," I said amusingly. "So you made me leave fairly important work, risk my job so I could hear the hidden nerd in you talk about science."

"It's not that . . . " he gazed outside the window, his pale grey eyes appearing paler with the soft rays of sunlight thinly gilding his face. "You remind of that word, a word I randomly came across on google." His eyes were on me again, his eyebrows furrowed in a kind of disconcertment that I couldn't comprehend. "You open up ever so beautifully one day and the next day that's all gone. You're shut off from the rest of the world."

I snickered, but it died down as soon as it had foolishly begun. The quietness of the room and the quietness of Isaac reminded me of when I brooded over something infinitesimal late at night such that I could only hear my own thoughts. Not the ticking of the clock or the ruffling of the sheets beneath me. Just me and my plethora of thoughts. Loud in my head, but so quiet outside.

"That's bullshit." My quavering voice lamely gave away the palpable lie of those words.

"It's a survival mechanism . . . For the flowers," he added the last part as if the clarification was of any use to the conspicuous analogy he force-fed me.

"It's just . . . How some of us function," I said flatly. "Look at that drunk fool outside." I pointed at a man swaying on the sidewalk and showed Isaac the white palm of my right hand. "I bet he can best express himself with a glass of whisky. He'll let go of all his secrets- in your words, he'll blossom like a flower when he's intoxicated and the time when he's sober again, he'll close off." I balled my right hand in a tight fist. "He'll look back and regret everything he said and did- he'll sympathise with every person he selfishly unburdened his problems on. Maybe shutting off isn't bad, maybe-maybe some people like not getting bugged by nosy individuals."

I got up vehemently and looked down at Isaac, the weary expression that he held was on the verge of breaking into another one of his long sighs.

"I'll just say this Ana, I didn't mean to offend you." He pressed the front of his unruly hair in frustration, but they bounced up right back. "Flowers are the most beautiful when they bloom."

I marched back to the counter wordlessly, my chin high up in the air like a derisive marchioness.

How could you bloom when all you wanted was someone to uproot from the shit hole of the soil you're stuck in?

"Hey," I said blithely (or so I tried) to Tony and Lola who emerged out of the pantry. They acknowledged me with a tight smile and continued their heated conversation. I eavesdropped and understood that they wanted to go to a musical show at the amphitheatre in the next town.

Do that, show your good friends a bit of light. A bit of kindness. They'll be back to being good.

The stranger's wise words resonated in my ears and I perkily offered, "I can cover your work."

"What?" Lola asked and both of them looked bewildered as if any help from me was a miracle. "You will do that for us?"

"Sure, why not?" It took tremendous efforts for me to be civil with them and bite back my snarky remarks. I took a glimpse of Isaac who was still sitting by the window and gazing outside, the sunlight now streaming in interminably and making his entire spot glow like a golden artefact in a dreary museum. "I'll clean the place after the shift, I can stay back a little while longer."

"Really? Thank you! We owe you a big one!" Lola gushed as if her age was reduced to that of a pre-teen. I slyly glanced at Tony who remained mute, rightfully still piqued at me for the mess I created of his relationship with Ally. But then moments later, he smiled cordially as if that was all that was required of me for forgiveness.

They're good people.

I wanted to ask him a million questions about Ally, but I didn't have the courage to do so. My guilt bound me to not pry, but by judging the plans he made for watching a musical and the twinkle in his eyes, he patched up with Ally. That comforted me.

I stayed back late that day, perhaps I wasn't thinking of my own well-being for once. Isaac received a call from his mother for some work at home and he needed to leave early. He told me the regular 'take care' and 'go home safely' which made a silly giggle bubble inside me. How could I go home safely when my home wasn't a safe place?

I cleaned the pantry and mopped the chess-tiled floor where a boy had dropped his Fanta under the scrutiny of the manager who was sprawled lazily on his cushioned chair. It was past eight when I hurried back home, mentally preparing myself for my father's prosaic lecture. Fortunately, I didn't encounter any drugged criminals, simply a couple of stray dogs who recognised me of their own territory.

As I entered the compound of my decaying apartment, a figure rushed to me from the corner. At first, I thought it was my fuming father who would drag me home with threats to ground me for the rest of the week. But the hair was too white, the face too young and the voice too gruff.

"Mariana," Abel said hoarsely, gripping my arm. "I have been waiting for you, love."