These Fragmented Parts

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Like a piece of ice on a hot stove, the poem must ride on its own melting.”

-Robert Frost

I WAITED PATIENTLY for Trevor to message me before his plane takes off but it goes to show that I just waited for nothing and I bet he wouldn’t reach out to me anymore so I shrugged that thought off although the loneliness was beginning to eat me whole again. Apparently, I wonder if life really has to be like this, pushing you too hard notwithstanding the fact that you aren’t prepared for anything- and even when you are prepared you cannot be armed enough to veer yourself away from the harm, the disappointment and eventually, the heartbreak until you unfortunately plummet endlessly. I couldn’t stop thinking last night what I could have done differently with his voice, telling me about having better decisions ringing in my head, to avoid all of these disintegration.

I took another sip of my coffee; it tasted so bitter my stomach almost declined it as I took steady breaths to try to keep myself calm. I still have an hour left before I head to Mrs. Lacour’s house; I guess I better keep myself stable for a while. Until now, I still feel small after what Chloe did, knowingly it wasn’t some form of charity to assist me as I grapple with this new life of mine. I can still remember her piercing glare that demeaned me. Apparently, it has always been like this; they always deemed me as the weakest and the one without a solid direction proven further when my mom died because of me. I did not kill my mother or hired someone to kill her. It was so far from that, but they make me feel as if I do.

My mother have always wanted to send the four of us in a law school because it was her broken dream, she wasn’t able to finish college due to early pregnancy although she was undoubtedly an intellectual human being, as if she was inherently smart with a sharp memory and a great sense of logic that’s why my grandparents were disappointed because she could have soared farther.

She eventually got free from the troubles and despite the fact that our family barely grappled with financial matters, she always wanted us to be women of perfection with good education. Smart, sharp and snappy. When she learned a few months ago that my admission details indicated a different course, she revolted. I fought back, she threatened me to take all the support for my education away, but it was the only solid decision I ever had in my life. So I did not let her threats get in the way, until she got too upset in the middle of our argument, she had a heart attack that resulted to her death. All of it just happened a month ago and that is where my life began to topple.  After my mother’s funeral it wasn’t the same at home, people constantly lash out on me until eventually, to avoid triggering my father further, they all decided to kick me off and throw me here as if I am not family.

  I should be grateful I have a place to stay, but most of the time I wonder if it should really be this way. I didn’t have any great friends either, most of the time they only stayed for a short period of time which makes me wonder if there’s something really wrong with me or I just don’t have the hearts to embrace the things that are conventional. I had friends way back but they just became my friends because they were Trevor’s friends where the click happens for a few weeks until they eventually stop talking to me. With that,  I really have no one to anchor to- Trevor used to but what’s the point, he’s now gone.

             I was already dressed in my plain white blouse and some jeans with some extra piece of clothing in my backpack in case this is not what I am supposed to wear. I should be asking Chloe, but I preferred not to, she would just lash out on me and my lack of common sense which is something I don’t need right now. My head feels as though it was battered and restless; I haven’t been sleeping well since the last two months and it seems ridiculous how I am still alive up to now. However, I still tried to get up early to try and help myself from becoming utterly overwhelmed I need to and I have to.

            After allowing a couple of minutes to slither, I washed my mug of coffee and brushed my teeth before heading outside and locking the door. I figured out that perhaps I need to allow more time to get used to this and to just accept how things are going on right now. Even though it wasn’t me who straight out killed my mother, I can always feel the remorse eating me in as much as whenever they are asked about my mother’s cause of death, it’s easy to say that she died because of a heart failure and when they ask for further information, I always hear my name. Having these thoughts in my mind make me feel how much I can still recall the terror it brought me in the middle of our argument, her eyes almost bawling out of its socket with her palm clutching her chest, trying to suck breaths until I rushed to catch her before she falls to the ground.

 Most nights I even dream about it, as it brings me the never ending rotations of fear but most nights, I just ignore.

After having the longest nine seconds of my life in the elevator, I breathed out and walked in the lounge. I noticed that a woman was sitting on the desk in the reception area, her hair was in an apple cut and her eyes were narrow. Once she noticed me, she smiled which made her eyes seem to disappear.

“Good Morning ma’am, have a great day.” She spoke, as I gave her back a smile. This must be Julie, the one that the maintenance guy substituted for when I arrived a few days ago here. 

            I went to the parking lot and entered my car. It still feels strange to have this new pattern of life and starting this day as a substitute maid.

-

            When I pulled over the driveway, I already saw Celine in the front porch watering the azaleas which I didn’t notice that much when we came here yesterday. I left the car, and the sound of the door being shut caught her attention. “Oh, isn’t it too early?” I walked to her as she set the watering can on the ground.

“But early is better than late, isn’t it?” She smiled with a noticeable European accent on her voice. Her hair was neatly tied in a bun highlighting the shape of her face which makes her rosy pale white skin more evident, as if a subtle shade of blush was applied on her face but I doubt that she did.  I wasn’t that blessed with good social skills, but I am still trying, even though my heart is pounding already clueless on what to say.

“I woke up really early, and I had nothing else to do, I hope you don’t mind.” I timidly smile, as she smiled back, it looked so genuine as if it was sunshine right in front of me. Her presence doesn’t feel that heavy.

“Oh, no, of course I do not mind at all. It would be really nice for me to have someone to chat with for a while. You see, Claudia, the one who took a leave, we don’t talk much. She doesn’t like being here.” She said.

“Let’s go inside for some snacks before everything,” Her hand was on my lower back upon assisting me. I was quite taken aback by how nice she was and it has been a long time since the last time someone was nice to me, all I ever had were endless cold treatments. She led me to the kitchen.

“I’ll be right back, make yourself comfortable, alright?”

The kitchen was vast, but it was very minimal and only had neutral colors. On the center were a pewter bar and some stools of the same color with a couple of cupboards and an enormous fridge. Behind the bar stools was a sliding glass door that rendered the view of a small garden where flowers and plants of different kinds grew. Celine did not took too long, as she returned with a porcelain tray and placed it on the table. It was a plate of blueberry muffins and two cups of coffee with its aroma floating on the air.

“Thank you,” I told her politely.

“Eat as much as you want to, they are not here. No one will judge you,” She giggled. I couldn’t help but smile. “This is going to be my second cup of coffee,” I said.

“Well, life is better with coffee isn’t it? And I am sure you will enjoy this one, this is Hacienda El Roble, one of the best tasting and most expensive coffees in the world. Life is better when we palpitate, I hope you get me.” She placed the mug on the bar together with the plate of muffins.

“Oh wow, this is quite expensive,”

“It’s quite rare, it is grown on a farm in southern Colombia nourished by organic chicken compost, and you must really taste it.” She said with full certainty. I took a sip, as she was in anticipation on my reaction and its taste was indeed sublime. It was my first time to have coffee that has a very dominant floral taste; it was entirely unique that it fascinated me. Celine was looking at me in excitement. I smiled.

“This is really good,”

“I know, it’s really rare and it’s not usually found in grocery stores. These muffins as well taste good; Mr. Lacour gets a weekly delivery from a local bakeshop he once sponsored. They don’t really care about who eats it, they just let it get expired until it ends up in the garbage. When I learned the pattern, I sometimes take it to the park to feed some homeless people since my daughter don’t like it when I bring it home.”

“Oh, you have a daughter?”

Her expressions suddenly dropped as if the light from her eyes a while ago vanished. She sighed. I wonder if I triggered something I shouldn’t have. “Yes, although I don’t see her much since I only get to go home on weekends because I stay here and my husband does most of the tasks at home. This job of mine allowed me to send her to a private school, but she loathed me, unfortunately. I thought she would appreciate me bringing home treats but she always tell me that she doesn’t deserve to eat leftovers,”

“I’m sorry for that, I can see that you really are a loving and welcoming person, I mean if I had someone like that in my life, I’ll hold onto that person. The world can be really cold sometimes,”

“Really? I don’t really think small things matter sometimes as a mother with an avoidant child, I always wanted to know how she feels and I don’t think she wants that,”

            A heavy feeling suddenly hit me, as if I was suddenly thrashed with an iron bat on my head as thoughts of my mother flooded my head. Her daughter must be really fortunate to have someone like her, to have someone who cares about her feelings as if it’s the only thing that matters in this world. I love my mother, until now despite the damages, the humiliation, the insults that marked this skin of mine with remorse as the only thing it knows and the endless guilt for not being able to reach her standards that skyrocket, but one of the questions I frequently think of whenever I am alone, or whenever I am with someone is how would it possibly feel to have someone that would care about how you feel.