Keyholes To Flowerage

IX. Kehyoles to Flowerage

IX. Keyholes to Flowerage

"THANK YOU, Mrs. Sullivan." April scuffed up her sneakers by rubbing her feet under the rung of the chair as she dried herself with the cerulean towel Mom handed to her.

I settled in front of her, sitting down the mug of hot chocolate on the cedar-wood table. "Ahm, drink this. You might.. get a cold."

Mom, on the other hand, excused herself to make another mug for me. I let out a Pacific Ocean sigh as soon as I received nothing but a glance from April. Potted welcome plants against the walls reminded me of what my group had talked about; we'll see each other next week to document and appropriately make an apology to April.

What just happened to her was like a touch of the setting sun. An almost good-bye. Just like what happened to Mary Joy. An unwanted déjà vu, exhorting me to hate the idea of people normally passing away. I was so in to eliminating my kind from people, from blending into them, and from walking my exhaustion to find total solitudes. I didn't know the same fear I battled with Mary Joy's death would disclose a while ago. I now feared staying without the reach from April.

Mom seated herself a feet away from me, handing me a mug of cocoa beans. Neither any of us spoke for the next three minutes, we waited until April was totally temperate, just like the ocean.

"April," mom called out. Lifting her head enough to recognize Mom, she inhaled the mug of hot chocolate and shyly looked at her. "What were you doing outside, might I ask?"

As she closed her sight, I noticed splotches of sleep deprivation under her eyes. "I ran away." I and Mom shared the same curiosity.

"I raw away from Mom," April continued.

The cerulean towel around her shoulders pumped up so often. "She hit me, she pulled my hair, and-" A tear slipped to her chin as she bit her fingernails. "-she almost killed me. If I didn't run away I don't know what could've happened to me there."

I did all my best in holding back the tears, my body silently made a way beside her and put some hesitant backrubs to lessen her pain.

"Your mother's absolutely out of her mind," mom chuntered, shaking her head a couple of times. "If you can't go home tonight, I'll let you stay here."

I was caught off-guard when she meant to offer the house to April. Not that I disliked the idea of her staying here tonight, I wouldn't let her sleep outside nor would I permit her go back to Mrs. Parish only to have her terrified again. It was just that Mom barely knows of the situation I have with April, she wasn't completely informed that I'm not in any good terms with her.

"But, dear." Mom got on her feet. "You can't stay here for long. I am a mother. I'm certain your mom would be worried knowing her daughter spends a night inside somebody else's house. Alright?"

April nodded in response. April's life wasn't anything but a mere nightmare for her. When she was little, she told us horrible things about her father; he normally slammed objects, cussed words to her mom, and beat her up. She thought her father was the match of satan. We were teens when we concluded April's mom was suffering domestic violence under the hands of her own father.

"Report him to the authority," Mary Joy said. April, pacing back and forth, just bit her fingernails.

"Mary Joy has a point, April. Don't you think it's time to end the sufferings of your mom?" April complied to our advice. After her father was put in jail, her mother abruptly became a drunkard who would always pass the pain she had to her daughter.

"And one more thing," mom added. "You can't always be like this. Running away from your mother. From your problems. She's to be faced. They're made to be solved. Do you get what I'm saying?"

April surprised Mom with tucking her between her arms. My mother gasped for air but hugged her back eventually. "Thank you so, so much, Mrs. Sullivan..." I smiled at my mother. Just let her, Mom-I thought.

I SHUT the door close with my foot and that's when April got introduced to the static beige walls covered with photographs of past, of us, and of some random pictures I personally took. Plain brown ceiling that's boring to look at prompted April to divert her attention to my study table nearby the windowsill. Her sneakers made quiet thuds as she approached thereof, roaming her fingers onto the solely picture frame on the table. Inside it was the miniature of me with them. Mary Joy and her. Joyful and whole.

Letting her analyze my room, I approached my bed to get a pillow, "Ah." I gripped onto the feather-pillow, my voice bounced against the beige walls, against her ears. "You can sleep here. I'll sleep with Mom."

She put down the picture frame, heaved an Atlantic Ocean sigh, and perfectly landed on my farm milk bed. "This is your room, you should be the one sleeping here."

"No, it's fine."

"It's not, for me." She blew her auburn bangs. "I just couldn't say no to your mom."

I sat down at the edge of my bed, assuring that there's still sufficient space for us to breathe. "Amanda and Emmie," I mumbled to myself. "I thought you got Amanda and Emmie to run to when something like this came up?"

She sarcastically chuckled. "Sounds as if I intended to run to you."

My face ridden with regret as I bit the inside of my cheeks. I shouldn't have asked that without me thoroughly processing the question.

"Amanda has uber strict parents,"she answered. "Meanwhile, Emmie's parents think I'm such a bad influence to their daughter."

Nodding in response, I laid flat next to her. I shut my eyes close when my hand nudged hers. I've missed this. A lot. I've missed her. Our small talks. Body contacts. Sipping the hot drinks together. Silent moments.

"It surprises me that you hadn't thrown away all the pictures we had, by the way." Looking at the ceiling, I beamed a little.

"There's a good thing about photographs. They keep memories that we, as humans, tend to forget as we age and part ways," I mumbled. "Photographs are public property we can visit any time we want, they don't prohibit me-" I looked at her.

"-to look at you, just like the old times. They don't stop me from talking to you, just like the old times." I heard her hum.

"The old times," she whispered. "The old times where we were stup-"

WE BOTH got up from the bed as we heard someone shout outside the house. It was a voice of a woman. April rushed to go outside to confirm her hunch. I saw Mom look like being hesitant whether to open the door or let that someone knock until she got tired.

"April! April!"

We all looked at each other. Mom decided to open the door, she received a whirlwind slap from Mrs. Parish. My chest rose, knees struggling to remain standing as I hugged my mother.

"Mom!" April shielded her arms against her mother, yelling at the top of her lungs.

"You ungrateful bitch! How dare you run away from me, huh!?" She reeked of whiskey and pain that couldn't be erased anymore. April tried to get away the flames inside Mrs. Parish's eyes, she took her sleeves and attempted to push her out the door.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Sullivan!" she bid as their figures blended with the darkness.

My mother composed herself, a scarlet bruise was evident on her cheek, eyes shone in madness. She shut the door close with her hips and leaned there. "I can't understand her mother anymore."