When Bluebirds Fly | ✔

Part Two : Chapter Four

When we stepped out of the riot unravelling in Allison's house, we spotted an amicable looking woman pushing a pram on the sidewalk of the serene street. Isaac and I walked up to her as I couldn't resist peeking inside the decorative pram. To see the lucky creature enjoying a tranquil stroll fit for a king. Big blue, watchful eyes stared back at me.

The last rays of the evening sun were marvellously colouring the vast sky above. The mother gave me an encouraging glance so I dubiously picked up her chubby, bald baby from the pram. Somehow, I was afraid that my mere touch would hurt the baby, but the soft, joyous creature sat comfortably in my arms. We both blinked at each other, the creature holding the pure universe in its eyes and me, the unpure one in my eyes. 

"Riley likes you already!" the mother said, breaking my trance.

I gently gave the baby to Isaac, afraid of the fondness that it was already evoking in me. A sudden emptiness lingered in my arms as I saw the baby in Isaac's. The naughty creature immediately reached for Isaac's unruly curls and grabbed them in its tiny fists. Isaac chuckled, struggling to free his hair from the barbarous captor. To distract its attention, he pointed at the pink, cumulus clouds.

"Look, look! Cotton Candy!" He exclaimed in a high-pitched voice which made the baby look at the clouds and laugh like a laughing Buddha statue.

This tiny thing was so pure, unharmed by the callousness of the world.

"I bet the baby doesn't know what cotton candy is, idiot," I teased and Isaac stretched the baby's tiny hand, leaned it towards me and made it poke my cheek. Over and over again.

"I know what cotton candy is," he said in a weird, squeaky, stubborn voice to make it seem like the baby was speaking (very intelligent of him) and whenever the baby touched my cheek and I pretended to sulk, it squealed in delight.

I sorely realised that I would prefer the company of babies over adults any day.

We finally stopped amusing the baby when it began howling out of nowhere and the mother hurriedly told us that it was hungry. We bid farewell in our cheerful voices even though the baby was not in a state to reciprocate and headed back to Allison's house. We still weren't ready to face the mayhem inside.

Some upbeat, electronic music was thundering from her two-storey house, so much so that the ground underneath us was vibrating like a beating heart. Isaac and I decided to sit awkwardly on the verdant lawn outside, savouring the darkness now crawling on the sky above. I sighed audibly, I hadn't felt this much at peace in a long while.

"Was the baby a boy or a girl?" I asked, picking at the grass.

"I don't know either. You can never tell with babies." He smiled faintly. "Remember my seventh birthday, Ana?"

I scoffed. "How can I not? I cut the cake for you because you were scared to hold a knife."

"Well, that's there, but," he justified humorously. "You pushed me aside to reach for the whipped cream on top before we cut it."

"I cut it. Even you were going crazy over that cream."

"I still remember how delicious it looked," he said wistfully, gazing beyond me as if he was imagining himself to be seven. I wondered admiringly how he could do that. Somehow, I found it arduous to imagine myself that young, because I was the happiest then. It was difficult to imagine being happy.

When I recollected those fading memories, I was somewhere far away, gloomily watching my little self play merrily and carelessly.

"Those days were golden," I mused and Isaac heard me.