These Fragmented Parts

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 “We are all so broken, that’s how the light gets in.”

-Ernest Hemingway

I FOUND MYSELF IN THE RESTROOM of the café in the apartment complex sitting on the toilet with tears on my face once again. It barely stopped even when I was driving. I wanted to kick the bathroom door but I’m afraid it might be broken so I just tried to hold myself together to avoid causing further casualties. I stood up and literally pulled the black dressed apart with so much force that caused the black buttons to spread on the floor and once the buttons were all out I threw the dress on the trash can furiously. I was wearing a t-shirt dress earlier, which was easy enough to wear and after wearing it, I sat again on the toilet feeling letting the sinking feeling to devour me whole. I want to lose control, but I can’t. I tried hard enough but all of it are too much that I stopped caring if I disappointed my sister or what she would think, it’s no longer my liability.

The music was muffled inside the restroom as I feel like staying inside here longer but I can already hear knocks on the door that’s why I decided to come out and just take a seat on a booth. The sound of the music was clearer here, just enough to quiet my loud and revolting thoughts. I rubbed my face and sighed thinking what I should do next, I didn’t even complete the week and for sure I am not going to get paid once Elena finds out what I did, even though it was her rubbish son who did it just because I didn’t bite his s****l assault.  I guess I just wasted my time and pushed myself to the pit of burnout that didn’t even contributed a good thing in my life right now and how I grapple with my tribulations.

 I checked my phone to see a miss call from my father which really confused me since he never calls me at all.

My phone vibrated and it flashed his name on my contacts. My heart pounded again. I always feel as though everyone who tries to speak to me is just going to pushed me towards agitation. Despite my hesitance, I swiped to answer.

“Hi Sweetheart,” His voice sounded so somber and hoarse and I instinctively felt guilty since I immediately thought that I was the root of all these. But even upon my own father’s voice despite the feeling of guilt and fear, I cannot ever deny the comfort it was providing me. My mother was certainly hard on me, and other times he was too, but he would always make sure to defend me at times my mother was being too harsh on me and make me laugh at times where I was feeling low. I didn’t have that much grudge on him as he tried to understand me; that’s why it was painful enough   for me to see him grieve up to now for the love of his life, my mother.

“I just wanted to know, how you are doing,” He spoke softly.

“Thank you, dad, I’m fine.” I said trying to avoid a longer conversation since it might just lead to him breaking down once more and I just can’t be dragged right now. I don’t want to.

“I just want to greet you a happy birthday,” I was suddenly taken aback. Did I just forget my own birthday? I glanced at the date on my phone and indeed it was my birthday. My mind was entirely wandering off somewhere that I forgot what date it was, how strange it is for me to drown under automation.       

“Oh, I almost forgot, but thank you.”

“Please get yourself a birthday cake for me, okay? I don’t want you to spend a lonely one.”

“Yes, I will. I hope you are alright as well.”

“I am alright, sweetheart. Just listening to the Beatles on repeat, Chloe made me a Spotify playlist full of happy songs of the Beatles, it lifted my mood for today and it even got stuck in my head. I finally learned to use that app and it’s wonderful.” It was just a simple thing that he said, but it made me feel a pang on my chest as if my heart skipped a beat. Almost the majority of my life, I longed for belongingness and to be at least enough to make my parents happy and with my father, saying this little thing it made me submerge deeper under the murky water my loneliness. How I wish I could uplift him through little things, but they kicked me out due to my sisters lashing out on me with the chaos triggering his depression more.

“I’m glad to know that, I hope you are getting better,” But I was lying.  I wasn’t glad. And I couldn’t tell if I was feeling insecure of my sister, or reeking of hatred because just for once in my life, I would like to know how it feels to be needed.  

“I want you to remember that I won’t stop being your father, and I’m sorry for the things that I have no control, and for not having you here, it’s for the best. I believe.” He apologized. As much as I want to believe that it is for the best, I couldn’t. It is understandable that all of us are grieving but I can’t just be left alone too.

“You don’t have to apologize about anything at all dad, it’s okay. I just want you to be okay, that is all.” I soothed.

“As much as I want to have you here, you know I can’t. But have a happy birthday, sweetie.” Lies. I know he doesn’t want me here. Guilt is not the same as being sympathetic and I hate it. I’m even having the worst day on the day I was born and how ironic it is that I just want to disappear exactly on this day.

“Thank you for calling me, I appreciate it.” Tears were already filling up my eyes. It was so entirely unbearable how my emotions blend into the most unfathomable phenomena ever.

“I’ll try resting for now,”

“Okay, Goodnight dad.” I hung up the phone. I buried my face on my palm and allowed my tears to flow for a bit, as I trembled in grief but I didn’t take long enough, I was also tired of myself doing the same rotations of loneliness and breaking down. I just quickly wiped my face with the table napkin I tugged from the dispenser- I hope I get myself to order something before they kick me out of here because the people were already piling up. After clearing my eyes, I suddenly saw a man standing near the booth I was sitting on as wave of familiarity hit me but it felt different, he was looking at me intensely, and I’m afraid that I was looking at him as well. I can remember the last time I saw him, his hair was pushed back and he was in a corporate attire, but this time his hair was scruffy and he was wearing a grey sweater making him look so subtle and more down to earth. I don’t know why his presence was making me nervous, but not in a way that I was anticipating danger.

He walked towards me, “I…,” He trailed off figuring out what he was about to say. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” 

“I should be the one who should tell you that, shouldn’t I?” I said, as he rubbed his face and laughed softly. “Do you remember me?”  He asked. 

“Of course Adam,” I confirmed, making him smile upon mentioning his name.

“Do you mind?” He said, pointing to the opposite side of the booth.

“Not at all,” I shook my head. Silence crept between the two of us, but I didn’t mind it at all, I just didn’t look at him; I didn’t want him to see the transparency of disdain in my eyes that were just soaked with tears a while ago.

“I want to know how you have been, the last time I saw you, you weren’t okay,” He spoke, after a couple of moments of silence. I recalled the night I encountered him, it was strange yet somehow comforting to have his company although I was having troubles remembering what happened after we took some drinks here. I can also remember how uneasy he was. I wonder if his predicament got better.

“Oh, yeah…that night.” I affirmed.  “Somehow I managed to make things worse,” 

“In what way?” He asked, with his fingers randomly tapping to the beat of the music that played on the speakers.

“Would you really want to know?” I really don’t want to tell him and just get the same response as everyone else gave me a couple of days ago.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s a terrible day for me,” I confessed. He panned his gaze to me, as though he was giving all of his attention and I felt the uncertainty whether I find it okay with me or not.  “I got a job as a maid for a week, but I quitted, and today is my birthday which I apparently forgot.”

“That’s sounds tough, how come you forgot your own birthday?” His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

“Birthdays just remind us of how many years we have suffered and I don’t want to remember that.” I joked as he nodded in agreement.  “I see your point and I don’t want to oppose because I tend to feel that way.”

When do you think Birthdays stop being so interesting?” He asked me as I thought for a bit, taking a few seconds to summarize the previous birthdays I had.

 “I don’t know, maybe thirteen? Thirteen is the age of blah,” I laughed after realizing how dumb my remark sounded. And he did laugh too which made his eyes smaller. It looked so genuine. He seemed better than the night we first met.

 “Age of blah?”

“Yes, blah.” I confirmed. We were both laughing softly at this point and I continued, “I mean, you know,  that is when the societal standards and all the crap start to kick in as you go through adolescence and become overall conscious about how you look, which pushes you further to crippling dismay.”

“Okay, I understand it better now. But how about sweet sixteen for girls? The sleepovers and stuff, isn’t that interesting? Or eighteenth birthday parties. ” ---memories---

 “I didn’t have one for some reason I couldn’t remember, so I can confirm that birthdays stopped becoming interesting at age thirteen.” I sealed my statement with full certainty.

 “It stopped becoming interesting for me at age eleven. Pretty early right? It’s just that my parents keep throwing the same goddamn party, and I kind of memorized the formula of the Adam’s birthday party that it became eventually boring. And even when I tell them I want something much simpler, they would decline. I guess they did it for the perfect family image.” He narrated.

 “Oh wow, birthday parties are quite interesting.”

“Do you want one right now? I have great connections.” He offered as a smirk crept on his face.

 “Oh my God, don’t.” I protested which got him chuckling.  “I’m not even kidding,”

 “I just said it because people seem to enjoy it, I’m quite an introvert that’s why a great number of people scare me,” I defended.

 “But please give your time to enjoy for a bit, you deserve it. “ He said, as I just smiled in return. The short conversation somehow made me feel better at the very least, like a little weight was lifted off my chest although it did not give me the full opportunity to runaway and repress everything. I felt grateful.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go. Happy Birthday Charlie, it was nice seeing you again.”