I found myself restlessly pacing the classroom, a torrent of thoughts racing through my mind. The decision to follow Zara weighed heavily on me like a pivotal moment in an epic tale. What do I do? Should I chase after her? Should I wait? The very notion was fraught with uncertainty. What if, in the pursuit, she inadvertently caused him to injure his ankle again? The prospect lingered in my thoughts, an ominous shadow cast across my contemplation.
Alek and Zara were like any other siblings. Their relationship was a blend of playful teasing and unspoken affection that ran deeper than words could convey. They were each other's sanctuary, a shelter from the tempestuous storms life had cast upon their family.
Their mother, a resilient woman, had known hardship intimately. She had been left alone in the world when her first husband embarked on a journey to foreign lands, severing all ties and leaving her with a mere month-old Alek cradled in her arms. It was a departure that cast a shadow over her life, a wound that refused to heal.
A year later, fate seemed to offer solace when she found love again. She married Zara's father, a man of unwavering devotion. But their happiness was fleeting. He waged a relentless battle against a rare and unforgiving condition, one that ultimately claimed his life.
As if destiny were not content with its trials, it cast another sombre chapter into their lives. When Zara reached the tender age of ten, her mother's own battle ended in a silent farewell, leaving behind a void that stretched wider than any ocean. In the wake of this loss, Alek, though young, became the de facto protector of his sister, bearing the weight of responsibility with a maturity far beyond his years.
Alek's uncle, who lived in a distant city, often extended his helping hand, a beacon of hope and guidance in their darkest moments.
As the final chime of the class bell echoed through the room, the bustling students found their way back to their seats. Amidst the orchestrated chaos, Zara made her entrance, accompanied by a new student who trailed just a step behind her. I scanned Zara for any clues, desperately seeking signs of what had transpired. Her hair remained impeccable and there was no trace of blood. More puzzling yet, she sported a radiant smile and engaged in animated conversation with the unfamiliar boy behind her.
The classroom fell into an immediate hush, all eyes locked on him. Whispers rippled through the air, the collective curiosity of the class demanding answers. "Who is he? Where's he from? He's so handsome."
Indeed, he was handsome, but it paled in comparison to my Alek.
I observed Zara guiding him to a seat beside the slumbering Zane before hurrying back to her own.
"Who is he? I inquired, unable to contain my curiosity.
Zara's answer came swiftly. "He's Kai, my new neighbour."
Just as I began my interrogation, Zane, who had been blissfully asleep the entire time, suddenly stirred. He peered up, and upon spotting someone beside him, realization washed over him like a tidal wave. All we could hear were his frenzied exclamations of "Oh my! Oh my! Is this a dream? Pinch me! Kai!?"
Kai, appearing a tad perplexed, asked, "Do I know you?"
Zain fumbled for words: "Yes, I mean, no, but I'm a huge fan of yours."
"F-fan?" Zara and I exchanged incredulous glances, and our curiosity piqued.
It turned out Kai was a professional swimmer, having hung up his boots just a few months before relocating to our town.
"I'm so glad to see you at my school!" he said with the widest smile across his face. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to let me know."
Zane's joy knew no bounds at the prospect of Kai becoming his deskmate, and from that day forward, they became inseparable. Well, more like he followed Kai everywhere like a loyal shadow.
*****
During our lunch breaks, Zara and I had a tradition of sharing our meals beneath the shade of a willow tree just behind the dining hall, relishing the cool breeze while the rest of our schoolmates dined in the cafeteria. We got in trouble a couple of times because of that but we always found ourselves sneaking back.
It was under that very tree that I saw him. My heart's custodian. The boy who had unwittingly captured my deepest affections. He was there, seated with Masha, of all people. The tormentor of my childhood Masha. The architect of my misery Masha. She had made my childhood a living hell, and now she was with the only boy who had ever captured my heart.
If you could kill someone with a stare, Masha would be dead.
I couldn't help but watch them, my stomach churning as they indulged in affectionate gestures, giggling, and even feeding each other grapes. It should be me, I thought bitterly.
"I hate her Zara, I hate her." I vented my frustration. "What does he see in her?"
Zara, engrossed in observing our lunchtime surroundings, replied, "Who?"
"Alek," I said, my voice tinged with envy. "What does he see in Masha?"
She hesitated. "I don't really-"
"Look at her," I interjected, bitterness seeping through. "She's pretending in front of Alek, but she's always so mean to everyone. She calls me ugly when she herself resembles a baby aye-aye."
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Zara's suppressed laughter. "I never thought I'd hear you say something like that."
"I just don't understand. Why couldn't he have gone out with Ruby? Or Moraa?" I continued my lament, my voice softening with sorrow. "Ruby is beautiful and is the kindest soul. Mora is the sweetest girl in 12A. Why Masha of all people? And why not me?"
I observed Zara's expression as it shifted to one of sadness and sympathy directed toward me. In an attempt to lift my spirits, she began listing Alek's less-than-flattering qualities.
"Do you know how loud he snores? She began, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "I barely sleep at night because of it. And let's not even start on how obnoxiously he chews. Have I mentioned how...uh, 'unique' he looks? Zara's words were tinged with a playful mockery, and she couldn't resist adding, "He occasionally also picks his nose. Who would want that?"
Little did we know that Alek, the subject of this impromptu critique, was stealthily approaching our cosy nook. His timing was impeccable, as he couldn't help but overhear Zara's candid critique.
"Who is the idiot that picks his nose? Ew!" Alek inquired, slightly tilting his head.
"You," she boldly responded, her irritation evident. Zara, who was still visibly upset at Alek, was unfazed by his sudden appearance. The anger in her eyes hadn't dissipated.
Quickly, I jumped in, trying to divert the conversation away from its uncomfortable path. "Actually, we were talking about someone entirely different," I interjected.
"I didn't notice you two were seated here."
Alek caught wind of the tension in the air and recognized my attempt to defend Zara. Slowly, he crouched down beside her and began to express his remorse. "I promise it won't happen again," he earnestly pleaded, raising his hand akin to taking an oath. "Could you find it in your kind heart to forgive your lovely brother?"
A lingering silence hung in the air before Zara replied with a tone that implied her forgiveness, though tempered with a hint of caution. "No," she said, scepticism underscoring her words. Her past had taught her not to place blind trust in Alek's promises, even though his beguiling charm held a certain sway over her.
With a tender smile, Alek reached out to ruffle Zara's hair before turning his attention to me. His expression shifted to one of genuine concern as he said, "You left your glasses at our place yesterday."
"Oh, I thought it was missing. I think I unintentionally left it there."
I didn't.
"Don't forget to pick it up. How did you get home?"
"Derrick picked me up at the junction," I explained.
"Oh, that's great." Alek's caring tone continued as he offered a gentle piece of advice: "Don't leave it behind again or take it off too often. It might get lost, or you might hurt yourself walking without it."
His genuine concern for my well-being sent a flutter of butterflies dancing in my stomach. He had my heart; he had it all. I stole a glance at him, and our eyes locked—a moment of connection that left me flustered. I turned my gaze away, my cheeks ablaze.
I heard him release a silent laugh, murmuring under his breath, "So cute."
A relentless loop of thoughts echoed in my mind. He thinks I'm cute! He thinks I'm cute! It was the singular refrain that pulsed through my every thought.
A self-conscious smile tugged at my lips as I protested softly. "I'm not cute," I mumbled, my cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson.
♡♡♡
When I was sixteen, I broke the news about not wanting to pursue a college education to my mother, and her reaction was nothing short of dramatic. She screamed so loudly that you could hear her from five blocks away. Not at me, but to the heavens. She even knelt and begged God to change my mind. I thought it was funny— how she reacted.
When she asked what I wanted to do, I casually mentioned wanting to be a housewife. She screamed even louder. I could see tears welling up in her eyes. It was as if I had shattered a piece of her.
"Why? Why?" She'd lament, her voice quivering with disbelief. "You have the potential to become anything you desire. Why choose to be a housewife when you could be an engineer, a doctor, or a teacher? The list is endless."
"You don't understand, Mama," I'd calmly reply.
"What don't I understand? Oh, just end me. End me now! Is this because of that boy, Alek?"
"No."
"Then make me understand, just why?"
My mother had a habit of proudly extolling my virtues to her friends. Boasting about her top-performing daughter and her striking beauty. She had grand visions of me following in her footsteps or my father's, becoming either a doctor or a businesswoman. She firmly believed in attaining the highest level of knowledge and achieving a successful career with a prestigious lifestyle.
She tried her best. She'd make valiant efforts to reshape my aspirations. She took me to career counselling sessions, where they guided young minds toward their future paths. But my resolve remained unyielding—I was determined to be a stay-at-home mother and wife.
I knew deep down that she carried a heavy burden of self-blame. After I confided in her about my dreams, she began dedicating an immense amount of time to our relationship. She began taking days off from work, arriving home earlier than usual, and spending entire weekends with me. I didn't really mind. I had always wanted us to spend more time as a family anyway.
My father, on the other hand, encouraged me to pursue whatever path brought me joy. He only asked that if one day I ever changed my mind, I should not hesitate to ask for help. He said he would be my father regardless of what path I chose to take. His heartfelt words moved me to tears.
Despite their frequent absences, my parents always displayed an exceptional level of care and support whenever they were present. They placed their trust in my judgment and respected my decisions.
This trust was apparent in the summer of 2006 when I decided to pack my bags and move halfway across the country to follow my happiness.
They always told me to experience life on my own terms, to either grow from my decisions or learn from my mistakes. My parents were like no other.
Anytime I find myself seated in the coffee shop, staring at my daughter, I silently pray to the heavens to make me as loving as my mother and as supportive as my father.