arashi

YESTERDAY, TASSEL CHOSE SADNESS. I couldn't choose anything, that's why I asked her that question in the first place. But now when I think of it, it barely matters. Because I have absolutely no idea how to regulate my emotions right now.

Ever since I came back from Oba-san and Oji-san's house, specifically the garage, thoughts of Mom have been troubling me more than often. I've been getting dreams, flashbacks rather, of all the times my temper had burst on her. Which unfortunately, was a lot.

"You're friends with Tassel, right?" Nash asks as we seat ourselves in class. 

"If you know it, why are you asking?" I question, unsure where he's getting at.

"Ah, it's just that you're friends with Tassel and Tassel's friends with Kim and Kim's the one I've liked for years," Nash blurts out. I laugh at his gradually reddening ears, but admire his blatant confidence at the same time.

"You want me to set you up with her?" I ask. It's obvious now.

"Something like that," he says, not meeting my gaze. 

I laugh. "You can just eat lunch with us then. Kim eats with me and Tassel most of the time."

"Thanks," he says, looking at his desk.

Suddenly, a thought comes to my mind. "Why don't you eat with us anyway?"

"You never asked," he says, as if he asks permission before taking my pen in every class we're in together. 

I'm a bit taken aback. "No, but, you can just join. I mean, it's plain eating. And we hang out otherwise too."

"I hang out with a lot of people," he counters.

"Why don't you eat with them then? I know you don't eat in the canteen always, but when you do, you always eat alone," I point out for him.

He nods. "No one asks me to. And I kinda feel awkward butting in."

His answer throws me off. "But you always butt into conversations between almost everyone in the hallway."

"Yeah," he agrees. "Butting in once a day is enough. Twice makes it annoying."

You're weird, I'm about to tell. But I don't. All the while, he stares at his desk while speaking. I'm not able to comprehend his words completely, but I do know he's revealing something he's not normally open about. I'd rather not make him more uncomfortable while doing it. "Nash, you're close to Tassel too," I say instead. 

He finally looks at me. "That I am, at least." He smiles but then raises his eyebrows. "But how did you guys become so close?"

It's been a short while, but Tassel and I have become good friends. I shrug. "I'm not sure."

I don't think I contributed much to our friendship at the beginning. It was always her approaching me every time she saw me in the hallways. It was her coming out of her ongoing conversations just to bring me into them. Now that I think of it, she's quite similar to Nash. Other than Kim, I see her talking to a new person almost every single day. 

"I think it's because Tassel likes talking. I'm quiet, so she can talk a lot with me," I flimsily say.

Nash laughs. "Maybe. She's really cool."

I agree with him. 

He continues, "But she's hella annoying too. Before my sister graduated, she would always play along with her pranks. God, they even got me to believe that a girl had a huge crush on me once. I panicked so bad because I like Kim so I had to reject that girl's confession but then again I was desperate to date at that time so I didn't really want to lose someone who liked me and - "

Before he can complete, Mrs. Oley enters. Then whole class quietens. She clears her throat and asks everyone to hand over the homework sheets she gave yesterday. 

I laugh quietly as Nash gets annoyed and lets out a heavy sigh.

🎕

With the ring of the bell, Tassel and I get up from under the mango tree to head to the canteen. I still don't pay attention to the walls when I walk through the hallway. When we enter into the building, my head automatically bends low. Even if I've not seen the coffin in a long time, I can still feel it levitating around me. 

Tassel talks about a story she's reading these days as we walk. Her hands move around animatedly. I laugh when she groans about about how the writer left her at a terrible cliffhanger.

Suddenly, I smell a whiff of pineapple scent zoom past me. I obviously don't believe it, but it's almost as if a spirit of Mom just passed by. I stop and reflexively turn backwards. Two girls smile at each other, their cheeks rosy and bright.

"Hey," Tassel calls out. When I try to speak, I realize my breathing has gotten considerably faster. Tassel questions me with her expression. "Nothing," I aver. She doesn't say anything else and continues forward. I try to focus my sight on Tassel's grey shoes till we reach the canteen, watching the black Puma sign go up and down with each step.

We look for seats once we're done taking our food. Not far away, I find Nash stretching his arm as straight as he can, looking at us with a large smile beaming on his face. 

Tassel laughs from beside me. "Damn, he looks excited."

In the period before, I told her about how Nash wanted to eat lunch with us. "He's finally decided to move things forward with Kim, huh," was her only reply. Turns out, I'm not the only one Nash has told about his crush. I'm not even surprised.

"Kim's not gonna eat with us today," Tassel says to Nash while putting her tray down.

He rolls his eyes. "Haha," he blandly says. Tassel smiles, showing off her unevenly aligned teeth.

I debate whether I should eat or wait for Kim to get here, but when I see Tassel already biting her burger, I start at once. Looking at both of us, Nash gives up waiting and joins too. 

Fortunately, just a few minutes later, Kim shows up at our table. There's a strong stench of sweat exuding from her. Tassel asks her to sit down, showing the seat beside Nash. She plops onto it.  Nash visibly shakes. 

I smile at their size difference. Nash is much taller than Kim, but he's way skinnier. Kim looks like a person who's been working out since forever. She's easily one of the fittest girls I've ever seen during all my years in high school. Next to her, Nash really does look like a long, straight flashlight.

"How was practice?" Tassel asks.

"So stupid!" Kim shouts, throwing her hands up. She almost hits Nash's food. "Geneva couldn't catch any of the passes! If she doesn't get better in a month, we're not even going to qualify for the inter-school tournament." She shakes her head. Then she turns towards Nash. "It's been a long time, partner. Not spoken to you since that incident in the volleyball court."

Nash looks done with her sentence. "Don't get this here, now," he says, exasperatedly.

I'm suddenly intrigued to know what exactly happened with Nash. He stops Tassel every time she tries to spill it. As I think of asking about it to Tassel when we are alone, I think about why I never asked her when we were alone before.

Kim scrunches her nose. "Why not? It makes me laugh, Nash. I'm so frustrated right now, only the image of you in - "

Nash stops her. "Okay, okay, just think about it then. You don't have to say it out loud." 

Kim playfully hits him on the head. "Whatever," he says, turning away, clearly fighting a smile.

🎕

I come out of the the shower, rubbing my hair with a towel. Once I feel the water's enough soaked, I go sit on the bed. I've never used a hair dryer. It's something I picked up from Mom. She never used it because she always said the heat damaged her eminently sensitive hair.

A ping goes off from my phone. Bryan's texted me.

Hey

How's Fishlips treating you

Bryan has not once called my school Portmouth. Because of him, I too have started to type Fishlips every time I talk to him.

It's quite good tbh

I searched up the place after you told me about
your campus

Did you like it?

Dude I love it!

How the hell did you go from our school to that?

Lol all thanks to Dad

He searched for the best school in the city

Damn I'm jealous

Fishlips is HUGE 

And not to mention it looks like a mansion of the elite

In between, Dad shouts from below that dinner will be ready in ten minutes. I'm quite eager, because Oji-san came over this morning to give us fish curry to eat later. He was going to bring more, but Dad reminded him that only two people live in this house.

After dinner, Bryan and I text about useless stuff for some more time. He suddenly changes the topic to his girlfriend and complains to me about how she doesn't let him alone around other girls. I give him my heedless opinions on it, because even if it's not going to mend his relationship, it'll at least satisfy his need of ranting to someone and getting something back.

At one point, he starts to text as if I'm his girlfriend and lets out everything on me, and I get genuinely fed up. Send all of these messages to her, I tell him. He stops. When I'm getting ready to sleep after fifteen minutes, he sends some again, all written in a language I'm barely able to decode.

He's drunk, I realize. Maybe not when we had started talking, but as our conversation proceeded, so did the alcohol down his throat.

It makes me want to drink too. Come to think of it, I've not had any alcohol ever since Mom died, which is quite ironic. I obviously don't drink at home, and no one from school has invited me to a party. Probably because not many people know me. Ever since I came, I've only hung around Tassel the most, who told me that she's never been to a school party in all these three years of high school.

Not that it's something to complain about. Back in Boston, I only used to go to Bryan's house parties, that too for the alcohol and fruit punch. Beer pong and dancing are not my jam.

I leave drunk Bryan's texts alone. He's not in his right mind, and I'm sure he'll apologize for spamming my notifications with nonsense words tomorrow morning.

I rest my head on the pillow. My room is beginning to feel like my room now. After all these days, I'm growing into it. 

Mom appears in my dream. She's sitting on the bed, the hospital gown hanging loosely around her shoulders. Her cheeks have sunken in. She looks at me with a smile, asking me to come over to her. 

"I'll read you a poem," she tells me, stroking my hair. I give her the book present on the table beside.

" 'Risk', by Anaïs Nin," she reads.

"And then the day came,

when the risk,

to remain tight

in a bud

was more painful

than the risk

it took

to blossom."

As the last syllable leaves her mouth, the scenery around her changes. We're no longer in the hospital; we're at the church where her funeral took place. Mom sits on her coffin, her smile still intact. She hugs me softly and whispers, "We'll be fine."

My eyes shoot open. I see the coffin floating in my room. 

Gasping for air, I push off my blanket and jump out of bed. A sudden smell of pineapples hits my nose. It's very mild, but I still sense it. 

With a quivering body, I try walking towards the window. With every step, I feel the weight of the coffin descending and the scent choking my nose. I shut my eyes and continue with shaky steps. 

Suddenly, my feet slips on something. I stumbled forwards, trying to hold on to something solid. I grasp what feels like painted wood, but the sweat on my hand works against me. My fingers slip. As I open my eyes, I see myself falling out of the window. I don't even try to hold on to something because there's nothing to hold onto.

The grassy yard inches closer to me. My left hand lands first, followed by my head, sending a sharp bolt of pain simultaneously throughout my wrist and skull. The taste of soil singes my tongue. From the corner of my eye, I look at the blurry night sky and specks of light, slowly transitioning from midnight blue to pitch black.