When Bluebirds Fly | ✔

Part Three : Chapter Eleven

"How's your dad feeling these days?" I asked Sam who was seated next to me on the stairs, his hands intertwined thoughtfully. I couldn't smell weed on him for once or even cigarettes, he smelled like beef noodles soup (he had been helping at the restaurant since his father's injuries). There were no dark circles under his eyes and his skin looked healthier than usual. "You sure do look fresh."

"Just say handsome. That word won't kill you." He smiled in mischief, running a hand through his straight, lustrous hair.

I gently smacked his head. "Well, handsome. Are you seeing anyone?"

"No. I have ran out of dates in my batch."

"Woah, no girls and no weed? Are you okay?" I touched his forehead to check his temperature and he shook his head.

"I'm improving, Mariana. For my baba," he said in a softer voice, then a vengeful determination shone in his eyes. "I'm not going to let that bitch enter our lives again. Done with that shit. Lost my faith in mothers."

"Many have beautiful mums, Sam. Like Isaac's. She did us wrong in some ways, but she's an excellent mum to him. She has everything under control. You should see their house, everything is spot on! It's like you're walking on mirrors and not on a floor, all crystal clear. And their living room would be the size of our entire apartment," I said and found myself blushing because of how much I had rambled about Isaac's well-to-do life.

"Some are lucky, huh." There was a sort of derision implied in his words and an ironic smile on his face. "You really will be moving?"

"If I can elope successfully, then yes," I jested, but Sam remained quiet. "Aw, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy."

"What?"

"I'll obviously come to visit you."

"Well, I wasn't thinking about that," he replied, raising his shoulders.

"What's up with the lovebirds today?" Abel asked, suddenly appearing in front of us with his muddy shoes and greying hair wet from the earlier rain.

"None of your concern," Sam muttered under his breath, but Abel continued to smile, ignoring his comment.

"See ya." We gave him space to climb the stairs and while he was moving up, I felt a light tap on the top of my head. I craned my neck to look at Abel whose eyes connected to mine. With a curt, understanding nod, he left.

Sam didn't take any notice of our exchange, he was viewing the world outside through the opened door, the compound as vacant as the clear sky above.

"I have to go to update my blog," I lied and he merely glanced at me as I got up. "I'll come to eat noodles in the break tomorrow. I'll bring Isaac."

"Sure, yeah. I'll be there."

"The least you could do is fake some excitement." I messed up his hair to provoke him and he groaned, shooing me away. "Fine, fine, I'm going."

Giggling, I jogged up the flight of stairs and instead of entering my apartment, I removed my flip-flops and knocked on Abel's door in anticipation. "Hey."

He smiled in satisfaction. "I knew you wanted this." I had to suppress my urge to roll my eyes and I put on my most polite face. I had pondered over his offer everyday, dreaming of all the things I could do if I got some money. One of the dreams was to contribute equally in paying the rent when I moved in with Isaac. We hadn't discussed about money matters, both of us embarrassed to bring up such a topic.

Abel let me in and I awkwardly sat on the cardboard like sofa, waiting for him to emerge out of the kitchen. I could hear soda cans being opened, the hissing sound of the fizz escaping its confinement. His gruff voice suddenly cut through that noise, "When are you free for the photo shoots?"

"I can get some time out of my schedule." I was being all professional and acting busy, to increase my worth when in reality, I had nothing fruitful to do except for serving at Bailey's Nuts. 

He strode towards me smoothly and handed me a chilled glass of coke.

"I wanted to ask . . . What kind of photoshoots? For which brand do I have to model?" I was getting uncomfortable holding the glass, it's coldness pricking my skin like ice shards. I took one long gulp and stared at the water condensed on my red palms. Setting the glass aside, I wiped my hands on my faded jeans.

Abel took the glass and showed me a small, white, business card. "It's for this clothing company."

I squinted at the card, unable to read the tiny font and before I could grab it from him, he slipped it back in his pocket.

My eyes were slowly drooping and a sudden giddiness was taking control of me and since it was my fault that I couldn't read, I didn't enquire again. I got up feebly, longing to go home and lay down on my bed to rest. I murmured, "We'll talk later. I need . . . I need to . . . "

I felt his hold on my limp arms as he made me sit down again, his concerned face hovering over me. His face of thirties couldn't match his old, pepper hair and his husky voice. I felt him push my shoulders down till I was laying flat on the hard surface of the sofa. I tried opening my mouth to insist that I wanted to go home and sleep, but no coherent words came out.

That night. The burning taste of soda in my throat. A trail of insects feasting on biscuit crumbs. A photo-frame with a couple and their two smiling daughters. Too many lights on the ceiling, too many.

I woke up groggily, my eyes adjusting to the brightness of the room and when I touched my face, I could feel the dampness. Tears, sweat, saliva . . . Goosebumps naturally rose on my skin without any reaction to any stimuli like flower petals unfolding in the early hours of the morning. I heard fragments of heated argument and I instinctively touched various parts of my body, all clothed, but dishevelled. I saw the familiar cloth of my crumpled underwear peeking from underneath the sofa and agitatedly, I got up.

"Papá?" I whispered, my father's face not recognizable since his features were contorted with a fury greater than I had ever known him to possess.

Abel stepped aside, his hands high up in the air. "See, she's alright."

My father grasped my arm, pulling me with a strength that could shift mountains as he yelled, "Fucking liar! You told she wasn't here! Hijo de puta! What did you do to her!"

"She came to me!" Abel shouted back and I flinched, clinging to my dad.

"Papá . . . Por favor . . . Vamonos, por favor . . . " I wasn't sure if he could hear me, but I knew that my legs wouldn't be able to support me any longer. I struggled against his grip and he absently let go, taking a firm stance as if ready to strike Abel any second. I was swaying in exasperation as I walked to my room in a daze and collapsed on the bed.

I could see my dad's worried face hovering over me which soon morphed into Abel's before I shut my eyes, submitting to the overwhelming throbbing in my head.