These Fragmented Parts

  “these mountains that you are carrying you were only supposed to climb” -najwa zebian   CHARLIE   "YOU HAVE TO LEAVE RIGHT NOW," Chloe spoke— stiffness embracing her voice with her eyes leaving no sign of life either sympathy at the very least, upon the thought of me leaving. It wasn't necessary to tell me to leave for I wasn't writhing and fighting the currents— my things are already packed in my suitcase neatly. I made myself believe that I was okay with it.             Chloe obviously knew that I would eventually leave, not a single person in the house heard me beg for them to let me stay; because why would I? The last thing I can do for them is give them peace, especially for my grieving father and the only reason I thought of as to why she said it with all rigidness is that, she never had the chance to speak harsh words on me and perhaps that is her way of letting her anger and frustration go— slapping it further onto my face that I am no longer needed here. I understand it very well, how everyone is in dire need of a catharsis at some point and if they see me as a form of sacrificial lamb, then I’ll let them be.             Despite Chloe's statement, I remained frozen on my tracks observing the coldness on her face as I glanced at my desolated father standing by the staircase. I was uncertain if I was waiting for him to stop me but just by looking at his sunken eyes and his drastic weight loss, I knew that I should really go.             This is probably the quietest moment of my life.             I was forcing myself to think of any word to say but it seemed as though my mind went back to its blank slate state. Only nothingness.             I dragged my suitcase outside without looking at my father or Chloe once again for what I was feeling at this relentless moment makes words so small, as if it can never equate its intensity. Within a few steps, I reached the front porch as Chloe closed the door softly; as if she closed their entire lives on me. Sometimes stillness can be far more painful than a chaotic moment of yelling at each other.             There were boxes in the front porch and all of them were mine; I got them ready as early as the dawn cracked for I couldn’t digest the thought of my sister watch me bring these boxes downstairs like I was putting this dramatic show for her to watch, I couldn’t stand how it could possibly feel; like insects of shame crawling on my skin- devouring me alive. One by one I placed them in the trunk. It was quite overwhelming— the number and weight of these boxes or maybe everything just feels heavy, the reason why I feel as though there’s a hefty baggage hanging on my shoulder. Apparently, I have seen two of my sisters leave for college; there was always like this series of ceremonies, and celebrations in which relatives come to our house for a formal dinner; parties were hosted for their friends and acquaintances coming together with goodbye presents; it was just so beautiful having people root for you in a new chapter of your life that is about to unfold. And even when I was fascinated by it, and waited patiently for my turn; but to my own misfortune, mine came as though several pages of my book were torn.              It's so quiet out here; I think I am bound to lose my sanity.             Once I was finished, I entered my car and drove my way outside of this f*****g neighborhood.             I turned the radio on, but it didn't make any difference at all.             It's as if there is this paradox about quietness, being so terribly loud, it's killing me even when I never had any troubles being alone and negotiating with silence— all my life, well, at least at age five I discovered the joy of being by myself notwithstanding the fact that I have three sisters. They have always been solid, like a pyramid and I, the irrelevant one.  No doubts, their ages are far closer to each other, Carson is 30, while Crystal is 27, Chloe is 25 and me, and I am only nineteen. Just imagine how they related to their teenage dilemmas while I was so occupied with dolls and story books at age seven. So by the time I entered adolescence, they only told me to get over it and it passes; they were always so preoccupied with their own lives to the point where they told me that I wouldn’t understand it at all. And I of course I did not and I did not find any way to relate with them. With that, being alone became easy for me as if it was one of the roles that I have to fulfill in my life; but I never knew up to now that no matter how you can do something so perfectly, you'll reach a point where you'll f**k up. Big time.             I can't find the pleasure of being alone, I think I might explode.             I watched the streets fade away as time slowly ate me up; I wasn’t quite sure how I feel about leaving the neighborhood where I grew up and how long I would be staying in the apartment complex; they did not make it clear to me whether this is temporary, or this is to throw me away for good, or this will last until my father recovers from depression; depending on their definition of recovery. It was as though I was playing charades with them or walking on eggshells except the eggshells hit the soles of my feet as though they were rusty iron nails. The robotic voice of the GPS filled the car joining the subtle music on the radio; it indicated that it would be a thirty to forty five minute drive but it seems as though I’ll be arriving earlier, the avenue wasn’t congested today.             I pulled over the parking lot of the small apartment building and just stayed here inside the car. It’s as though there is a pulsating violence inside the small space; I knew in myself how much I am not ready yet with this major adjustment I have to do; no hints, no assistance, no direction. Nothing. It’s even quieter, after I turned the radio off together with the absence of people in my sight. Perhaps the storm that is about to come swept all of their errands.             I rubbed my face, sighing, but no matter how many times I expel a deep breath the weight is undeniable; a part of me wished that all of these is nothing but an intricate dream. But it was not, this was reality. I placed my forehead on the steering wheel with my knuckles still gripping it, breathing hard as I could feel the lump on my throat giving me forewarnings that I would spill once again.  I removed my face from the steering wheel, and grabbed my phone that was placed on the dashboard. My fingers quickly motioned for his number.             I stared at it. I closed my eyes, and allowed my thumb to press call.  It rang for a while, but eventually he picked up.             Silence again.             "What is it?" He spoke. Nothingness trailed his voice and I couldn’t stand more of it, the emptiness and coldness from everybody- it makes my insides feel as though they’re wearing out.             I suddenly shivered the moment my tears fell—as if my flesh felt extremely weak upon the sound of his voice I've been coveting to hear. I couldn't bring myself to speak. But I knew I have to. "I have to go, Charlie. I'm giving you twelve minutes."             Twelve minutes. I repeat those two words in my head. How can you say what you want in a year worth of relationship in a span of twelve minutes? "Is this really the end?" I hate how I sounded so fragile, so desperate for he had always been the rational one, the one who would choose other things over me just because it is beneficial, even if it risked our relationship. How ridiculous it is of me to not have an answer even now. "Yes," He said with a solid certainty as if he knew the answer ever since he was brought to this world.             I fell silent. I looked at the ongoing duration of the call and I hate how my silence slowly ate up the minutes that were left for me. "I— don't you still have any feelings left for me?" "No, Charlie. I really don't have any feelings left anymore." "I am willing to compensate," My voice was almost inaudible. "Just move on, you need time." Three, two, one. He ended the phone call.                 I wiped my tears and tucked my phone inside the pocket of my jeans although I knew in me that I wasn’t completely over with my mess- just so it happened that the skies were getting gloomier by this time slowly fading to grey, fuming with the roaring thunder and I think I should really carry my things to the lobby before I get soaked with rainwater. I left my car with the feeling of wanting to just lie down and shiver upon the pain that kept on doubling its intensity as the clock ticks as I motioned to the trunk, lifted my baggage and carried a box with one hand, as I tugged my suitcase with the other that chided with the noise of the thunder. It was quite odd, entering the lobby for there weren’t people inside except for the receptionist whom I doubt to notice my arrival since he was playing some kind of game in his phone that disabled his ability to accommodate. With me having abhorrent social skills, I just left the box and my luggage in the lobby and proceeded to get the three more boxes in the trunk. I succeeded with my things as the guy finally noticed me. “Uh, hi.”  I said, quite lost on what to say. My head is a major disaster right now. The man removed an ear bud as though he wasn’t oriented with this job, “Hey, I’m sorry but I’m not really the receptionist here- James just uhh, kinda put me here since Julie is out,  but As long as you got your keys already you can just proceed to your place.” I have no idea about the names he was mentioning to me but I have no interest at all to ask him so I just nodded and thanked him. It was obviously unprofessional, but I wasn’t expecting much from this place since it was small- only twelve floors with limited units and as far as I know, the rent here is pretty friendly for someone who just got kicked out of the house and trying to be independent for the first time.             The man finally noticed my luggage as he immediately stood up, and left the desk that hopefully belongs to Julie- the receptionist probably. “Need some help?” He asked and before I could answer he dragged a trolley near the desk towards me. “Of course, you need some help- Silly me. I’m Thomas by the way, if ever you find that information important. I’ll be the receptionist for today since Julie is having stomach flu.” The way he babbles seemed as though he has a lot to say in every situation, well at least at the moment where the lobby is really dead quiet, but it has good lighting and a fragrant lavender scent coming from the diffuser,. He quickly arranged my luggage in the trolley and started dragging it to the lift and I followed.   “Sorry for the quietness of this place, you just arrived at a very, very dead hour. Most of our residents here are college students, and the majority of them went somewhere else before the landfall of the storm. You know, long weekend plus storms, gave them some time to breathe from college stuff,”  The elevator dinged as it opened, he pushed the trolley inside. “Tenth floor,” I said as he pressed the button.   “How is it that you know the majority of them left?” I asked Thomas; although I wasn’t in the mood to engage in a conversation but it really seemed as though he’s trying to be accommodative considering that I arrived here with the place looking dead due to its quietness and lack of people.  “I work as the head maintenance here and once a week we check the facilities unit by unit to really make sure that there aren’t any malfunctions that are occurring-, electricity and stuff… you know to avoid disasters. It’s really hard to solely rely on the residents and wait for them to complain on something, it’s better that we check it one by one.” This probably explains why he is in an industrial work chore coat. This place isn’t bad at all. The elevator dinged once again.   “Just leave it here, thank you.”  I told Thomas. “No worries, and by the way there’s a small café at the third floor, people come by there to drink live bands at Thursday. I guess I’ll see you around if a circuit breaks or something,” He chuckled. “Just kidding,” I smiled as he entered the elevator. I gave him a small wave before he disappeared on my sight. I took a deep breath. My unit was at the end of the hallway where there was a huge window that gave an overlooking view of the city and the open road, and there were two lounge chairs and a table. I glanced at the window where the clouds still rendered its gloomy view, thunder still fuming but the rain hasn’t arrived yet. This has to be a terrible, terrible storm. I got my keys, and opened the door.                   To my surprise there was a man inside.