Thoughts: Getting To Know Me

I find it funny that the person 
who understands me the most 
is actually someone I argue with 
most of the time.
They have seen me angry,
they have seen me think, 
they saw how 
the wheels turn in my head.
They know what to search for
in my eyes and in my tone.
If I knew what I was saying
or if I was making it up as I go.
They wait for me to stop
before they say their piece. 
And they say it 
with utmost civility.
I won't say I lost
in the argument we just had,
and neither did they win
for being outwardly calm.
We both understood the other. 
Our words flew and were received.
Funny how the person
I argue with the most
knows me best.

Thoughts: Warmth

So I decided to turn in the pen on mushy stuff and figured I should write about something else for a change. 

---

Christmas.

What's the first thing that comes to mind when you hear it?

Love. Cheer. Family. Christmas food. Gifts. Homemade cookies with mugs of warm milk or cocoa. Snow. A well-lit fireplace with you and your loved ones, snug under woolly blankets or wrapped in hand knit scarves, around it. Late night conversations over a board game. Stories about that big man that goes down the chimney and hops from one home to another in a red sleigh drawn by flying reindeer. Christmas bonuses. Kisses. Hugs. Goodbyes. Another cold night under the stars, you frantically looking for anything to keep you warm throughout the night. A barrage of carolers. Christmas songs being played over and over. Stores brimming with people shopping for Christmas presents. Christmas parties where in most you don't even want to attend but you have to because you don't want to make anyone feel bad or dislike you.

Going through the list above, it seems that Christmas can take on a whole bunch of meanings, both good and bad. 

Well, if someone asked me that... I would have to say: warmth. Small acts of kindness, a phone call or a text from someone you care about, home-cooked full course meals, presents, touches of affection... all these bring in warmth.

My Christmas has a lot of warmth in it. 

Despite us not having those Christmas traditions most families would have, like having to perform in front of relatives and the like or having the entire kin meet up for a day or two, we try to get in as much warmth into our celebration as possible. Even if my mom just got back from work at the clinic or being called in for an emergency or papa had things to take care of (for business) other than the holiday dinner, we try not to let such things trouble us much and just bury it in what followed that night. 

We don't have reunions. Our family is so dispersed that calling in each one would be such a great inconvenience. Worth it and probable, yes. And I'm not saying that they dislike the idea. You just can't call on everyone to rendezvous in one place for two weeks or less for the sole reason it's Christmas Eve and you want to dine together. You have to be practical about it. The cost for lodging and food, and they have jobs to take care of too, can be a great hindrance. You can never be selfish; even though you want to be and you do have a point to think so since it is Christmas. You cannot expect, especially when the concerned party has a family of their own, for them to just come to you because Christmas is to be spent with 'family'.

That's why when I think of Christmas I never really think about family. There's just me and my parents and younger brothers. A Facebook greeting to other relatives and a phone call to my grandparents. That's all there is. For some reason, I'm okay with it. Used to it perhaps. The warmth I search for is there nonetheless. 

Still I can't help but think how it would be if things were any different. If how we celebrated Christmas was similar to how other people celebrated it. But I guess that's too much to ask for.

I'm content with how it is with mine. :)

Dreams

I had this dream.

I was pregnant in that dream.

I wasn't happy, to say the least.

I was looking out into the ocean, listening to waves come up the shore. I couldn't feel the sand beneath my feet, so I assumed I was at the pier.

In that dream, I remembered telling the man I loved to leave me. I didn't want to force him into the relationship we shared. The baby was unplanned, and it felt like he was staying just because I had the baby, his child, and not because he loved me. Not because he cared for the baby.

I told him that if he loved me and cared for the child, he will come back. I told him I can work before the baby comes. Perhaps at a bookshop. He didn't have to support me for I can do so on my own. I didn't hear his reply. I couldn't even make out his face. But I knew he was hesitant about it. I felt it. And I also knew he wanted to leave.

I was holding him back. He was not supposed to be with me. I took his life from him. I burdened him. He was unhappy.

I didn't want my child to know that. I didn't want to see myself as a burden either.

"Leave."

And he did.

In the dream, I knew I loved him. I just wasn't sure if he loved me back.

But I hoped he would come back to me, as I stared out into the sea. One day he'll turn up at the doorstep, with a smile on his face and his arms wide open, beckoning me into his embrace. And his eyes… they would be pouring with love. I would drown in that love. The baby will kick, jumping in joy for it felt his mother was happy. Happy that father came back for him and her.

I just hoped.

I knew it was futile to expect as I continue on looking out. I must have done it everyday for the heaviness continued gaining weight.

And I woke up.

I woke up, promising myself that I should never come to such an end. I will never come to love such a man. 

Thoughts: Overcoming Loneliness

Man is incapable of being alone.

As I walked down the cobbled steps that lead to the main road. It was eerily quiet.

How can man be able to live like this?

After having accustomed oneself to companionship, how is one able to get back to settling back alone without yearning for the presence of the other?

That's the main reason why I didn't want to become too close. Imagine the hurt that comes after the separation. During, there's not much to think about. There's still that hope that you'll see each other again. Some day. But when the days pass, weeks stretch to months, and the possibility of finding each other again grows thin, the ache starts to settle in. You start to curse at the heavens for it being unfair, for it hand-picking you from the lot to be one of those who suffer.

"Why should I be subject to such pain? Such torment?"

"I never deserved this!"

We always think that. And the more we do, the more we hate. The more we fuel our anger, our contempt, at something (or someone) whom we cannot even concretize. The inability to pass the blame on something tangible forces you to be angry with yourself. To despise yourself.

To regret.

"Why did I do this? Would it have been better if I didn't?"

Possibilities. Endless possibilities. You wouldn't have been able to predict these from happening. Never.

But you can still continue on hoping. Go through their Facebook accounts and see how happy they are on the other side. Occasionally catch them online, chat for a moment, then they tell you they had to go since they had to take care of something and will catch up with you some other time.

When?

You stare at the gray bubble, hoping that it turns green again.

What happened? Why did things come to this? Before these chats would last for hours. We end at the wee hours of the morning, only to continue with the conversation later that day. If I tell you to meet up, we meet up. If I tell you I was bored, we go out and do something silly.

You were within reach.

Always within my reach.

But now you aren't, and what did you leave me with?

Memories.

Memories that continue to torment me. Haunting me. Hurting me.

Should I have been better off without meeting you? Would it have been a more painless transition?  All I can do is smile as I go over our old pictures. Photographs of the past. Frozen. Still. Never aging.

Maybe this is the reason why man can't be alone.

We need someone whom we know would be there when we get back from work. We need someone within our reach.

Friends have their own lives to worry about. They are temporary. They cannot always be there for you whenever you need them. They can turn against you, they can forget about you.

Your life is not their concern.

But that someone… how are they any different? Don't they also have their own life to worry about? Aren't they also temporary? Limited? Can't they also turn against you? Forget about you?

You hope that they won't.

You believe they won't.

You trust they won't.

So you still hurt.

You hurt even more because of how much you believed in them. How much you trusted them. How much you hoped that they would be different from the others.

Risk.

And again another set of painful memories await.

Man is incapable of being alone… but he is better off alone.

If you don't want to get hurt, to feel empty when the other half left, don't make friends. Don't meet anyone new. Don't interact.

Distance yourself.

However, you are never assured you can keep at this forever.

There is always this one person who would initiate. Who would dare approach you from the crowd and say hi. Who would dare tell you their name and ask for yours. And you couldn't do anything but answer back in kind.

The cycle continues.

Prepare to be hurt. It's inevitable.

You'll be angry with yourself for falling into the same trap again. You will regret ever making the same choice. But you won't mind that as the relationship progresses. You'll be happy. You'll hope for forever. A temporary high. Assuming. Reassuring.

And that's all you.

So try not to be so hard on yourself. You're only human. 

Thoughts: Never

You'll never find out.

You'll never find out how much I liked you.

Even if you did come across these petty notes of mine.... each one of them filled with such longing... You can't tell if it was meant for you.

You won't be able to.

You're stupid that way. You choose to be. I hope you continue on being so. 

Good that you are for I don't want to spoil anything just because of this silly infatuation I am supposed to have grown out of.

So I watch you walk away. A smile on my face. I want to laugh at your obliviousness. It's just too funny!

I draw air in. 

That was a good laugh.

I wipe away the drop that formed at the corner of my eye.

Nothing's going to hurt me anymore. 

You disappear.  

This will be the last. I don't want another you to come by. 

But if he ever comes... I won't budge. My heart won't. I won't give in...

It won't.

Dialogue

The leaves rustle. Branches sway. The sky was jet black with specks of starlight. The moon shining brightly. It was full.

Lying in an open field was a boy and girl. The girl was wearing a white shirt underneath her worn out jumpers. Her hair was a chestnut brown, a darker shade in the night. On her left was a boy, his hair just as black as the night sky. His complexion was fair, very fair, practically glowing under the moonlight. 

She

What do you think?

He regarded her at the corner of his eye.

He

About what?

She

Me?

He

What about you?

She

Is there something wrong with me?

He

Now what makes you think that?

She

Is there something wrong with me? I asked you first.

He

I refuse to answer.

She

Why won't you answer me?

He

Because there's nothing wrong with you.

She

There isn't?

He

None.

She

...

He

Your turn to answer.

She

What?

He

Why did you ask?

She

Just curious. No particular reason.

He

I've known you for so long... enough to know that you're lying. What made you ask?

She

Who said I was lying? It's not my fault you don't believe me.

He knew that there was nothing else he can do about it. She wasn't going to tell him why. Something was wrong.

She

How was your 'date' with Sally yesterday?

The emphasis on the word was not lost to him. It was only until then did she flop on her stomach to look at him. Interested was she.

He

It was fun. We went to see Uncle Drew. She got herself a new wheel for her bicycle. And it wasn't a date.

She

It wasn't?

He

It wasn't.

She

Oh...

He

Why do you want me to be with her so much?

She went back to her usual position now. Her eyes fixed on the twinkling lights.

She

...

He

Why?

She

Is it wrong for me to think it?

He

Can't it be with another girl?

She

You don't like Sally?

He

It's not that I don't like her... I can't... I just can't be me with her. 

She

You just need to spend more time with her that's all. You'll like being with her in time.

He

...

She

What?

He

I don't get you at all...

She

Hm?

He

Nothing, nothing.

They continue on in silence. Lost in their own thoughts. One did not dare push the subject any further. 

It was fear.

It had always been.

Neither one of them wanted to risk it. They would just have to be content with what they have... with what they share. 

Content.

But are they?

Thoughts: Shifting Out

Sometimes, you can’t help but be part of the audience.

Unsuspectingly, you become part of it.

Helping myself to a Mcflurry with Oreo Overload, I watch intently: family reunions, friends conversing over piles of fries, and couples spending time together, just talking about who knows what, in tables situated by the corners or near a wall or window. 

These are strangers interacting with one another as music plays softly in the background. The rest of the world just fades away as they drown in each other’s presence.

I can’t help but think how many people I have yet to meet in this planet. I have yet to have them in my life, and I have yet to be in theirs.

“What are they talking about?”

“If I had lived differently… if I was a different person, if my parents hadn't met, by a sliver of chance would I have met these people before me now?"

What would it be like if I did?

A lot of what-ifs.

One can't help but ask "What if...?" every now and then we find ourselves asking. 

"What if it didn't happen?" 

There a number of things that could have been and a number that couldn't. You just have to remember that you are not in control. 

You have never been. 

If you were, would there be such a thing as the unexpected? Unexpected meetings with people you would have least expected to become a part of your life, to have their names on your pages. Their faces, character, everything about them, etched in your memories. Chances you never knew that would come your way. 

You never know how things turn out in the end, whatever decision you make. You might have planned your whole life before you, but there's no guarantee that you'll follow it through.

I guess this is where the problem lies in all of us. We tend to look back and think life would have been better IF we chose the other.

How sure were you it would have been?

Could it be that you're here now for a reason?

There must be. 

There must be a reason why I'm not with those group of people in front of me, laughing at something I have no clue about. There must be a reason I'm not that girl cuddling with the guy at the corner. There must be a reason why I'm here, alone in my seat, eating McFlurry and typing away in my laptop.

Yes, things might have been a whole lot different, there's no denying it. But I don't know if it would have been better. What was important was that you decided, it was your choice alone and you stuck to it. You walked from point A to B. There's a reason you walked. There's a reason why you didn't stop. 

And nothing will stop you until you find out why.

Thoughts: Hoping

The light falls on the canopy. Gray buildings rush past my field of vision, the clouds a dark, intimidating hue of blue. I wonder if it will rain...

It was the day of the NMAT and everyone was in high spirits. Well... most of them I think. The car I was in slowed down to a halt. Regine, who was beside me, was busy reading Physics. I couldn't care any less. Cramming information into my brain now won't be of any use. 

The street was brimming with vehicles of all shapes and sizes, carrying one or a whole group. Students all over Manila were rushing in to get to their assigned rooms. Some decided to spend their time reading up. They were seated on stone benches browsing over worn out notebooks with pages covered with ink smudges. I guess those notebooks dated back three years ago and saw the light of day only weeks before. 

"I wonder how I would do?" that was the only thing that kept on running in my head days prior. Would it have made any difference if I studied? Would I still feel this unease? I wasn't feeling well at all. I had a headache, and my stomach was being rather cruel. "Perhaps I shouldn't have eaten breakfast..." 

I got down the car. We decided to cover the remaining distance on foot. My friends and I made our way to the Information Desk to meet up with the others. There were two of us who'll be taking it the first time, the rest were doing it the second time. Only one was at her third take, in hopes of getting a 99+.

"Should we go to our room?" I asked, after getting pencils from Kim.

Regine nodded and the group split up, agreeing to rendezvous at lunch in one of the kiosks behind the hospital. 

"This is the building, right?" we were assigned to Albertus Magnus. 

"AMV... could be the Accountancy building." having checked the campus blueprint, with the testing areas shaded, it must be AMV.

But it wasn't. We had to go farther down the Accountancy building to get to Albertus Magnus. 

"Someone doesn't want me to take the NMAT." I joked. Why wasn't it shaded and indicated on the map? 

Since Regine's room was on the second floor, we separated. "Room 319." 

UST has a weird way of assigning room numbers. The room before mine was 317. 318 was on the other side. "I wonder why..."

I waited out along with other students. I don't know from what school they were from, I wasn't even sure if they were still students! There were those who looked like they were already working. They could be taking the NMAT for fun or they just realized at their age what it is that they wanted to do. The moment of self-realization comes later in others, I guess. 

Well, at least that moment comes. Better late than never. I'm still at a loss at what I want to do. But I have a rough sketch of what it is I want to accomplish. For me, there's a difference between what you want to do and what you want to happen. Whatever you want to happen you can make happen regardless of what you do. Just make it a point to always have that objective in mind. 

I want to inform. I want people to be updated. I want to discover something new that is beneficial to human kind. How to make that happen is up to me if I want to make it happen. There should be a want, a desire, to make it real.

Let's say I can't be a doctor. Let's say I can't be a researcher. But since I have such goals I want to be realized, whatever profession I can make it work. 

So I guess there's nothing much to worry about. Things might not go according to plan, but who knows? Eventually they might. Progress is slow, but it doesn't mean nothing's changing. Minimal but moving. I guess those who appeared to be working and took the NMAT were those people who couldn't wait anymore. Like what another friend of mine said, "We cannot delay gratification." We need to see change. I think it is only through that we gain assurance. Assurance that we are doing something worth it.

I might reach that point: too impatient... frustrated... seeing my life as utterly pointless. But I'll just focus on what I have now and see where it brings me. I just hope I will be content with the outcome.

The unease should wear off by now. 

"Arielle Vidal." the proctor called out behind rimmed spectacles.

"Here."

Thoughts: A Response

Your back was to me. I tried to call out. 

I did.

But you didn't turn my direction. You didn't even stop walking. I didn't know what else to do. I don't want to run after you. 

I silently prayed for you to stop.

"Hey!" a small voice called out.

It was sweet, warm, and soft. Like a feather making ripples on the water. Light. Soothing. 

You stopped.

Should I be relieved?

You turned.

Should I be happy?

You made your way toward her. Not me. Towards her.

She smiles. Opening her arms wide she beckons you forward, and you comply. Steps are more hurried, as if you couldn't wait to be enveloped in her warmth; to entangle your fingers in her strands, pulling her close... very close. The rest of the world fading into nothingness... including me.

I watch as the scene before me tears me apart. 

I feel something trickle down my cheek. I ignore it. I manage a smile.

I turn away, not looking back. Content with knowing that you are happy...

Even though it's not with me.

Thoughts: Farewell, stranger

Over it
Done with it
You are no more
Than a passing glance.
You don't deserve it
Not at all
What more is there
To ask?
I don't want to see you.
I don't want to feel you.
Your breath, your touch
On my fragile skin
Nor do I want to hear
Your beating heart
Your grunts and gasps
As you make your way
To me.
Good-bye.
Farewell.
Again, a stranger.
That was how 
It was supposed to be.
That was how
It should have been.
Distant.
Empty.
A passing glance.

Quotes

"Showing a little bit of kindness to people recognizes that everyone around you is just like yourself."
- Catherine Ryan Hyde (Reader's Digest, March 2009)

True.

Well, if you see yourself as someone who far superior than others, most likely you would not treat others the same way you would do to yourself. You would treat them like dirt beneath your feet, or don't even bother giving them some of your time seeing as yours more important than theirs. 

For me, small acts of kindness show that you acknowledge the person. "Hey, you're there. I can see that you're suffering, so here's a cupcake." There's sympathy. In some cases, empathy. "I feel your pain as if it were mine." In philosophical terms, that person is not an object but a subject. He/she is capable of feeling, just like you. And knowing that they are able to do so draws you to act for you can also see yourself in the situation you're in. "What if I was he? What would I want another person to do?"

---

Since this is my blog... I'll use it as my diary of sorts. Haha.

Me and a close friend of mine were talking last night about my personality. The conversation went there because of a guy whom I can't figure out. And I can't help but wonder what is it about me that seems to keep him sticking around. I mean, there are other people he can be with aside from me, why does he have to always be around me?

My friend told me that I have this 'super friendly' aura that draw people in. I have no limits when it comes to friendship. I am not selective. 'Friend' thinks that weirdo guy is drawn to that aura of mine. 

"Perhaps that's why he's different around you."

I think being too kind has its drawbacks. People expect you to be kind every time. And you can't help but comply. 

Quotes

“I think that perhaps we always fall in love the very first time we see the man of our dreams, even though, at the time, reason may be telling otherwise, and we may fight against that instinct, hoping against hope that we won't win, until there comes a point when we allow ourselves to be vanquished by our feelings...”

The man of your dreams here would mean the man whom you see as your ideal. Appearances can be deceiving. But I'm not here to put anyone down. Just a word of caution. 

This really applies to me. Haha. 

I met this guy in college. He's... unattainable. I guess that would be the best description I can give you. Knowing that he was, I go against the feeling. I tell myself that it cannot be, that I should just give up and find another guy to 'fawn' over. Haha. 

It was futile. 

It was pretty darn hilarious and idiotic! 

So I stopped going against it. I decided to go on with it, to the point that I wanted to tell him how I felt. This is just me. I just wanted him to know, nothing more.

I wrote a letter. I didn't go with the floral, scented stationary and the script handwriting. I kept it as uniquely me as possible: blunt honesty with a hint of sarcasm and humor.

Fate was against me that day I planned to give it to him. The letter ended up all ripped in the bin. 

I didn't get to tell him properly. 

The desire to not like him increased. I don't want to see him anymore.

But it can't be helped. He pops up too often. He talks to me. "Just go away!" I scream in my head. 

He doesn't budge.

The feelings came back. Unfortunately. Not to mention I found out that a close friend of mine also likes him. I found it weird, so I decided to move away. Stupid heart doesn't want me to (ew). 

For now, I don't know where this is going. I'll just leave it be. I still like him... even though he's such a jerk and not even good-looking. Darn personality, humor, and freaking nice eyes of his. BE GONE!

La Corda D' Oro

Ever since Athena introduced me to this new manga, I can't seem to get enough of it.

The manga is about a girl named Kahoko and she was forced by a fairy named Lili to participate in the school's concours, a contest where the finest musicians of the school compete. 

Before we go any further, I would first like to talk about the school. The school is divided into two: general and music. The general students are those who do not have music as part of their curriculum. Basically, they're just regular students. The music students , obviously, have music. They center their lives on music. 

Kahoko is a gen-ed student who doesn't have any background on any instrument. Lili, the fairy protecting the school, gives her a magic violin that reflects the player's feelings when played with. Regardless of lack of experience, if she puts all her heart into her playing, a sweet melody is produced.

This manga has inspired me to play the violin again. I'm getting rusty since its been so long since I've played. I have been searching for musical pieces: Chopin, Pachelbel, Beethoven, and Mozart. I like Pachelbel's Canon in D (if you are familiar with it you can tell why). And Beethoven's Fur Elise!

Playing these pieces will be tricky. I want to buy a new violin... If I can only get my hands on one, I'll play like there's no tomorrow!

Quotes

Source: http://www.paulocoelhoblog.com/images/e-cards/statuesoflife/images/statuesoflife01.jpg

Jewelry Box

Since you trust me with the things most precious to you: they'll be just as precious to me too.

Even more.

- Arielle Vidal

 

Quotes

"Accept what you are able to do and what you are not able to do."

I have been collecting quotes since I was in high school. I have oodles in my old laptop and in three of my planners. I don't know. There's just something about coming across a statement and having it make sense to you. There are so many things in this world that don't make sense and here you are, looking at several words strung together so perfectly that you just had to note them down onto anything you have at hand, fearing that you would forget or lose sight of it for accidentally pushing the exit button.

The quote above, I forgot where I got it. But I guess it was from a friend who also collects quotes as well. I took note of it because I am aware that there are times I can't seem to accept not being able to do most of the things other people can. I guess you can say it's envy, but I don't think I am capable of such.

I always wonder why there are people who are more capable in some matters than I am. How come they can do it but I can't? Do I lack a certain trait or characteristic?

When it comes to matters of love, is there something about me that you don't find appealing? Is it because I am just... me... that you choose to be with someone else?

What is it that I lack? 

Or do I really miss something?

Perhaps I don't.

Perhaps I compare myself too much with other people, that's why I always say there's an inconsistency. Maybe there isn't any to begin with.

Why do I even care that I'm not like them? Why compare me with them in the first place?

Well... there are actually times when I think I could have done more in a task. And I guess those are the only times I can say my performance was unacceptable. However, sulking over it won't do me any good. Being able to push oneself out of the ditch is what's important. 

So there. Haha. I guess this where I end for now. :) Toodles!

Thoughts: Sleep

The leaves rustle 
The water murmurs
Blades of grass swaying 
Gently in the wind 

Dogs chase
Birds swoop 
Crickets sing
Frogs croak

Feet ache
Beads of sweat on brow
The sun's rays
Beating against golden skin

Cool afternoon air 
Against abused flesh
Pebbles defenseless
Against the soles

Path was steep
Sight grew dim
A slip
Into an everlasting slumber

Thoughts: An Unheard Confession

To: Him
From: Me

Hello.

This is the final stretch. 

It has been pretty interesting, especially when you came along. 

I just wanted to thank you for making this an interesting and memorable year. It has really been an eventful ride. You're a fun person to be with, and I can't help but be drawn to you. Despite your cold countenance, there was some warmth in you that I found appealing, and which I often found misleading. 

Anyhow... I've meant to do it by letter ever since. But the timing was not right then so I tore the letter up. Since I am not the type of person who can bring herself to confront, I chose to write.

Cowardly, you might say. But these words jotted down in ink hold the same amount of sincerity and affection if I did otherwise. The weight is just as heavy, the risk just as slim.  I hope that you don't laugh or find it funny. I hope you take what is to be written here seriously. I do not ask for anything more than that. 

I like you.

I like you very much.

No matter how much of a jerk, lazy, stubborn or ridiculously proud you can be... I like you. I don't know why my heart clings on. I have never felt anything just as intense. How could I possibly like someone like you?

I guess it's because you possess something I find admirable. Something I find attractive. A physical feature, perhaps. A character of yours, maybe. Your voice, could be. Laugh? Smile? Possibly in a certain degree. 

I can't put my finger on what it is. But I know what I feel is true. I like you. And I don't know when I would come to stop having these feelings for you. 

But all I just wish for you is to find happiness. I have yet to find what makes me happy. We're both on the search for it. And we would know if we have found it. We have yet to. And I hope you find what it is soon.

You may not love me back the same way I do. And I see nothing wrong with it. I am not expecting anything at all. All I ask of you is to hear me.

Forgive me for my selfishness. It's only for now. After which, you can do away with the letter. I cannot keep lying to myself that I don't adore you. I couldn't hide it any longer.

I have to tell you.

I have to let you know.

I need to let it go.

Shorts: Nativity

So I've been filling up my blog recently with love notes. Haha. I think I should try something different. 

This is the first chapter of a piece of fiction (with facts intertwined) that I wrote for a friend. Haha. Enjoy. 

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Clack clack clack clack.

Slosh.

The door to the master’s bedroom swung open. The room was dimly lit being that the only source of light was a tiny flame on the dresser. There was a four poster bed with white beddings. A circular velvet rug adorned the shiny oak wood floor. The doors of the wooden wardrobe creaked.

But all attention was directed towards the woman in the bed located at the right side of the room. She was sweating profusely. The mattress was wet, her nightgown soaked from the waist down. She was breathing deeply, her face was red and it contorted in pain.

The baby was coming.

The maid made a move to approach her but was stopped by a commanding baritone voice originating from the bathroom. “Start the car!” it said. The owner of the voice was a man in his late 30s. His complexion was fair in contrast to that of his wife’s which was a golden brown. His hair was greying at the sides, his countenance stern, but his eyes betray what he was currently feeling.

His wife was in pain and he needs to get her to the hospital!  

The maid nodded and rushed out of the room. He could hear his wife’s laboured breathing. He doused his face with cold water. He needed to calm his nerves. Now was not the time to panic!

His wife woke him up in the middle of the night, complaining about an ache in her belly. Thinking that it was because of the draft, he walked over to the window and sealed them shut. An hour later he woke up to someone grasping his hand. “She’s coming.” Was all she said, and alarm bells started ringing.

“Sir, the car is ready.”

He walked out of the room, grabbed the first clean shirt he could find, wore it, and strode over to his wife’s side. He didn’t worry about the clothes, they can come later. It was already two in the morning, so the trip will be quick.

“Lord, please.” He uttered as he took in his wife’s appearance. Her upper lip was trembling. Her mouth was agape, exhaling sharply. Her chest rose rapidly, and her brows knit tightly together. Without much effort, he lifted her up in his arms. She clung to him. He can feel her body shake against his.

“This is all your fault.” She whispered vehemently, cracking a smile. This was her second child, and after the first she told him never again. The pain was unbearable, even though the child was outrageously adorable. But her husband knew just what to say to make her give in. This time would be the last. She’ll make sure of it.

He smiled. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t resist me.” Leave it to her to crack a joke at this time. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and proceeded out the room.

“I’m already in pain and you still manage to bully me.”

He chuckled. At least some of the tension was lifted. “She’s pretty impatient isn’t she?” he asked her as they made their way down the stairs. Who placed these damned steps in the way?

“Like her father.” She was starting to calm down. Her breathing evened out.

“Stay awake.” He told her.

“No problem there.” She replied weakly, her head on his chest and her arms around his neck. She listened to the erratic beating of his heart. He was also nervous. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sir?”

He turned.

There in the maid’s arms was his daughter, Sarah. Five years of age. She was wearing her favourite yellow PJs with a floral print. Her mop of wavy chestnut brown hair resembled a bird’s nest on her head. She woke up from the ruckus and was now eyeing her mother in her father’s arms. “Daddy?”

“Mommy’s going to be all right.” His wife replied with a smile. His daughter looked up at him. He nodded. “I’ll be right back with your baby sister.”

The girl beamed. “She’s coming?” the smile immediately faded as she took in her mother’s appearance. “Why is mommy sweating so much? Does she hurt? Why is my sister hurting mommy?” she asked.

“Mommy is just feeling hot. Your sister is not hurting me.”

“But mommy looks hurt…” his wife shook her head. “Daddy, get mommy some ice cream so she won’t feel hot anymore. My sister might like it too.”

His wife smiled. “I bet she’ll like it… very much. Chocolate ice cream is your favourite, right?”

The girl nodded happily. “Yes!”

“I’ll get you some when I get back. But now, daddy has to get your mommy to the hospital. The doctor is going to help bring your baby sister out of mommy’s tummy.” If it weren’t for their present situation, she would have laughed. This was the first time she had ever heard her husband talk baby to their firstborn. He must really be worried. She grinned inwardly, stroking the back of his neck tenderly. “Don’t make fun of me. We need to get you to the hospital.” He whispered back to her.

“Oh.” Sarah replied, unknown of the brief exchange between husband and wife. “OK.”

She tried hard not to wince. The baby was coming… fast. “Now go back to sleep. Get your sister’s room ready for mommy, OK?”

Sarah nodded and watched as her father walked out of the house with her mommy. She turned her attention to the woman carrying her.

“Ate, will mommy be all right?”

The maid looked at the girl’s questioning light brown eyes. She sighed and did what she knew was best: she nodded.

***

The rest of the populace was still snug under the covers. Several delivery trucks and buses passed them by. The drivers and passengers were all bleary-eyed or fast asleep, some looking out of their windows with a blank stare. He was tempted to floor it, but he couldn’t risk being so reckless at this time of day.

“No rush.” His wife said. How can she be so collected at a time like this?

They arrived at the hospital with ease. Good thing the baby didn’t come during rush hour. He got out of the car and signalled two nurses to the car. They brought with them a wheel chair, but they were much too slow for him that he decided to carry his wife to the emergency room himself. “Is there an available room?” he asked. He towered over them, not one nurse answered. He sighed. “She’s going into labour. Is there a room available?” the nurses looked at each other, silently urging the other to answer for them. Thankfully one took initiative and replied, “There is, sir. But we must get her to the delivery room.”

***

“There’s no go with this one. We have to do caesarean.” They’ve been at it for an hour. The baby was too big.  “This would be her first, yes?” the doctor asked the man beside him.

“Her first C-section? Yes, it is.”

“With your permission, sir. We have to proceed with the C-section.”

“Whatever you think is best.”

Several minutes later, a loud wail resonated throughout the hall.

***

She opened her eyes. “Where am I?” Sunlight was dancing on the walls. This wasn’t their room. Her eyes got accustomed to the light; she got a whiff of chlorine.

“You’re up.”

She recognized that voice and directed her attention to where it came from. There, clad in the shirt he was wearing early this morning, was her husband. He was smiling grandly at her. She smiled back, only then to notice a small bundle in his arms. She stared at him. Then everything that happened several hours ago rushed back in. “I had a baby…” her voice was hushed. If it weren’t for him looking at her intently, he would have missed her utterance of disbelief.

“Yeah. You did.” He laughed lightly. The baby was fast asleep.

Still shocked, the only thing she could muster asking was, “How is she?”

Her husband let out a hoot. “She is apparently a HE.”

She blinked.

“You gave birth to a son. A handsome, cute, healthy son.” That said, he stood up from the watcher’s couch and walked up to her. “He has yet to feel his mother’s touch. You’ve been out for a while.”

By instinct, her arms rose up to receive the sleeping new born. He was wrapped in blue cloth, his skin fair just like his father, and his cheeks ablush. He was so small with a tuft of dark brown hair on his small head. He started to squirm. With a brief rub of its nose, he opened his eyes slowly. Light brown eyes, just like her husband’s, staring right at her.

“He’s adorable…”

“Of course he is. He’s my son.”

Her heart was fit to bursting. A son! His mouth quirked up a bit… then it let out a cry! “He’s hungry.” Her husband pointed out with a guffaw. He helped her untie the knot of the hospital gown behind her. She pulled down the cloth, exposing her nipple. Drops of milk appeared at the tip. With some gentle prodding, the baby took it in and sucked. She grinned.

“What do we name him?”

“Hm… a lot of people misspell my surname. Only a few can even pronounce it correctly. Perhaps we should give him an easy name.”

“Why?”

“He might be stupid.”

“Isn’t it a too early to come up with that conclusion?”

“How about ‘Jack'?”

She looked down at the baby in her arms, suckling peacefully at her breast. “Jack Vermeulen. I like the sound of that.”