PART TWENTY-THREE | THE STORM

We were in the middle of the sea. In the middle of nowhere. In a leaking boat. In a seasick state.

The news about Jeremy quitting the varsity team is spreading like a viral infection. Transmitted from people to people in the hallway, cafeteria, even between the stall in the toilet. His appearance on Monday morning, holding a black crutch on his right hand, is confirming the rumor. A quarterback from the junior varsity team is chosen to become the new captain. It is like a dream come true for him but also a burden because substituting Jeremy is not an easy thing to do.

During the lunch break, Clayton and Lux keep asking me his whereabouts, which I can't answer honestly. The truth is I know where Jeremy is. He is sitting alone in the den, dragging on his cigarette. The pink smoke is floating around his head. I catch him having a distant look in his half-open eyes.

"Hey, Frankenstein." I sit beside him, folding my legs. Jeremy doesn't bring anything but his crutch. The corner of his lips twitches when he sees me unwrapping the sandwich I bought from the cafeteria. "Your friends are looking for you," I speak while bringing the food to my mouth.

He gives me a subtle nod. Silence engulfs us. Jeremy flicks the cigarette with his forefinger. Moments pass then I nudge his side rib with my elbow. "Eat," I say, pointing my chin to the sandwich laying between us.

He doesn't respond. I let out a heavy sigh, grabbing the sandwich and unwrapping it for him. Placing the food on his lap with the hope he would take it immediately. He brings down his eyebrow. A crease forms on his forehead. "I don't ask for it." His voice is cold and unfamiliar.

Years ago, I fell from my bicycle. Scratching my knee on rough pavement. It hurts, really. I still remembered the pain. But his cold demeanor is giving me another form of pain. My heart stings as if it has internal bleeding.

I stare at him. Checking the boy sitting beside me, is it really Jeremy? Or is it someone else pretending to be him? I am not mistaken. It is him but a little distracted. There is a heavy pause before I speak again. "You should eat, Jer."

"Don't you understand that I don't wanna eat?"

He doesn't shout or yell at me. It is a flat-tone sound with a flat expression. Emotionless. I couldn't fathom the situation. It feels like there is a knife jabbing on my chest. It makes me hard to breathe. The feeling is foreign to me. No one has refused me before.

I gather myself to get up. Jeremy looks away, his eyes landing on the rock. That is obvious he doesn't care about the words he said earlier.

"I'm sorry," I say. "Maybe you don't want me to be here too." My voice comes out as a raspy and shaky disgusting sound, which I regret. Turning away, I stride from the den.

*

What did I do to be treated like that? I was trying to be nice but his response was unexpected. I am not ready to deal with that kind of reaction. His honeyed words are gone. A cheeky smile that used to be on his face is nowhere to be found. He is a completely different person.

Or is it the real him?

No, no. That is unfair to think about him that way. He is really sad about leaving the football team. I'd be mourning all day if I have to give up on something I keen on. Especially if I couldn't do anything about it. He needs his lone time.

I walk reluctantly to the gymnasium. Julia finds me at the door of the changing room. Her eyes narrow to slits, "You good?" She asks. I force a smile and convince her that I am fine. She needn't know.

"Dysmenorrhea," I respond nonchalantly. Julia gives me a sympathetic look, stroking my shoulder. We begin to practice with Danielle and the rest of the team. The football players are practicing inside the gymnasium as well because we couldn't stand the winter breeze outside.

It is peculiar seeing the football team without Jeremy. They are not interesting anymore for me. After practice, I stay for a while. Doing my own routine. A slight hope rises on my heart that Jeremy would show up eventually. Like he used to do, showering me with sweet surprises.

I keep glancing at the door, expecting him to come. The door remains shut as no one comes to the gymnasium at this hour. Students are already going home hours ago.

I am exhausted, both physically and psychically. He doesn't show up. Walking back to the changing room, I glance at the bench where we first met. Jeremy seems so strong but deep down he is just an ordinary boy. Fragile and unstable.

*

As I remember, there is no special occasion this evening. But Mom and Oscar are sitting in the living room. She is holding her phone, talking with a serious tone. Oscar's hand slings to her shoulder in a comforting manner.

I place the dried plate on the rack. Then grab a towel to dry my own hands. Entering the living room, I could see tears rolling down her cheeks. I couldn't see it clearly when I was in the kitchen.

I am confused. Mom puts down the phone after ending it with a shaky thank you. "Come here, love," she says. She sweeps away the tears with the back of her hand.

We are sitting on the same couch. Hugging me, she whispers to my ear, "Dad would never go home anymore. The plane to Tanzania... crashed. His name is on the victim list."

I don't understand. I completely don't understand. Her face is becoming blurry. Then I could see it cloning, she has two faces now. I shift my gaze to Oscar, he too has two faces. And the couches, the lamps, the doors. Everything becomes unclear and has a shadow suddenly.

I grip my mom's hand. It feels so cold, but it is mine that is turning cold. Or probably, our hands are cold. Mom hugs me. And also Oscar. He hasn't say a word since I entered the room. Neither of us says a word.

The saddest person in the room may be Mom. She tries not to cry, I could see tears wells up on the brim of her eyes. On the other hand, I couldn't feel anything. I don't feel like crying.

Oscar is the first person among us who gets up. "Pardonne-moi, I need fresh air." He exits from the room. From the window, I could see him standing on the porch. Maybe crying. Still, I couldn't feel anything. I don't feel like crying.

"I have homework," I say. "Like a lot."

When the sky becomes darker, I buried myself in my Mathematic homework. Then moving to my English project. Then to other things that are good for distraction. Mom and Oscar repeatedly knock on my door. But I refuse to talk, saying that I am a bit busy with school's project. The clock is striking twelve when I feel my eyes burning.

I am tired. This is my latest hour to stay up studying. Resting my temple on the desk, my mind leads me back to the memory of the last time my dad kissed my mom. It was a decade ago, probably.

Afterward, a memory when he comes home bringing a loaded bag of chocolate floods in. Then Mom would be mad because chocolate is not good for the teeth. She said that he should be more considerate about choosing healthier gifts for us.

Dad is annoying sometimes. But Dad is just being Dad. I remember the crease on his forehead when he was worried. The fine lines on the edge of his eyes when he smiled. The warmth of his hug when he embraced me every time he came home from work.

I blink, a tear rolls down my cheek. Then it keeps coming like a flood. The fact that he would never come home again is suffocating, heartbreaking. He is gone for good. Leaving us without warning.

I cry. I cry a lot, my eyes are red and swollen, but I couldn't hold back the tears. Covering my mouth with my hands, the sound is still too loud. I am afraid that Mom or Oscar could hear me. So I snatch the pillow. It helps, my sob turns to be a muffled sound.

I curl myself into a fetus position on my bed. The safest position humans could feel, like inside a mother's womb. The tears start to stop, my breathing becomes steady, then drifting to sleep. I wish I could meet him on my dream, pleading for a second chance. I'll be good.

***
until next chapter.
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