It's mid autumn, the tree leafs are falling, and so are we, here making an appearance on our uncle's furnal. I can't believe that mothefucker died, should've done it a long time ago, maybe our live's outcome wouldn't have been the way they did. It doesn't matter anyway now that he's six feet under. I'm taught to not talk ill about the dead. I can tell Ifan isn't sad, instead he looks different, as if a cage has been broken. "I can't believe he really died." Ifan's gaze softens, looking at the grave.
All those neighours who didn't even look at us when uncle was beating, assaulting and kicking us out, are now greeting me with such bows, and blessings, their head lowers when they see us walk around.
Respect is everyone's right. But we had to work extremely hard to earn the respect we're getting today. At least they fear us now. As they should.
Aunt is sobbing so hard that she might even convince me to feel bad. Its not like he was good to her, but spending a lifetime with someone, you just start to grow on eachother. She's on her own now, with no income or savings.
"Should we go back to Aunt's place?" Ifan asks me. "Should we?" I ask back.
"He told us to never come back-"
"Well he's here no more, what will he do, come out as zombie to kick us out."
Ifan laughs. "Hey shush, that's rude" Ayat slighty slaps my shoulder.
It shouldn't be rude. The way we got hurt by him wasn't rude enough for him to stop. The way Ifan cried wasn't rude enough for him to stop that hand. Then why must it be inappropriate for us to not be rude about him, when all he's ever done while he was still breathing, was being rude to us. Disrespect is something one never gets over, and we shouldn't. He made Ifan scared to ever talk about his own feelings, he made Ayat afraid of ever loving someone, he made me feel unheard, and most of all, he made Aunt feel all of the above. She wasn't always like that, he turned her into a unrecognisable evil because no one was listening to her.
Evil is not something born, it's handmade. It's not original, it's forced. Yes after being forced it may seem like it was natural, when in reality the evil was dig into the roots. The taller the tree, the more it's hard to cut it down. Evil is something planted, and when not nourished, it becomes harsh. Thus, if we yarn about it more, the roots once a bean are now cranky. So yes, the Devil wasn't always wrong.
It was made to be wrong.
Ugly is society's way of describing different, which forms dirt so hard to clean. And as humankind is, we can't see, or let's rephrase it into, we don't want to see what's underneath that dirt. We don't put enough care into thinking about it.
Because we're all too distracted by our own selfish needs. Humankind can be such self-absorbed, self-obsessed creatures. We usually overlook others pain, and whine about our own cut that bleeds to everyone around us. Uncle was like that. Aunt is like that, my father was like this, Infact we're all like this sometimes in our life, through each second, at least that's what I agree on so.
We mourned, and prayed, soon the grave turned into stone and we were ready to take off, we don't plan on staying here for long.
"Kids." Our aunt pulled my sleeve to stop me.
I turn my head back to her. "Yes?"
Ayat's eyes are teary, and Ifan was almost mid way to sitting back in the car.
"Would you like to come home?" She's old now. The crinkles around her eyes and forehead makes me want to cry. "Sure." I smile.
I smile?
I guess we're staying after all. "But excuse me for a bit." I walk to Ifan.
"Ifan are you comfortable going inside?"
"I guess. The only reason not to go was Uncle and he won't be there anymore." He shrugs his shoulders back. I throw my arm around his shoulder and Ayat walked to us, while aunt still stood there, waiting for our response.
"Will you be okay?" I ask Ayat.
"It's been a decade, I've never been better." She smiles. And all four of us walked to our old house.
Our aunt opened the main door. She's bearly standing, she has become so weak- I can't even recognise her.
The first steps we put inside and all three of us feel a burden that has just been lifted. Its the same- Exactly the same, the stairs, the wooden floor, the kitchen, and the couch has yet the stains of alcohol.
Ayat touches the kitchen counters as she walked deeper inside, What saddened my heart is, how empty the house looks, how lonely it feels, but the worst of all, the kitchen has no food in it, whatsoever. What happened here? Was uncle bankrupt? Karma really has it ways of punishing us, I guess. Let's be honest, he wasn't always rich.
Ifan sits down on the dinning table. "Shall I bring coffee?" Aunt says. Where is that tone coming from? never in my life have I heard it before. Ayat, Ifan and I, we're sitting down on the dinning table. Feels like yesterday when Ifan poured juice in two cups right here, and passed me mine, we were on our way to tuition classes, but uncle ruined our mood like he always used to.
"If he's not hungry that's not our headache to take care of, it's I who pay for your meals anyway."
Motherfucker.
Aunt displays a whole tea set filled with coffee infront of us.
They're broke.
Uncle left aunt broke and poor, all alone, old and lonely, even after death he's such a pain in the ass.
"What happened here?" I ask aunt, as she takes a seat infront of me.
"What did? Nothing did."
"What happend after we left." Ifan asks.
"Everything was—different after you left. I never wanted to admit it but you kids started to grow on me. Loneliness is the worst of cases when a person grows old." Her voice is shaking.
We kept listening to her.
I look over at Ayat and she's fidgeting with her ring.
"I know I should've provided more for you kids–"
"It was never about luxury aunty." Ayat spoke over Aunt.
"We wanted you to be a mother. I wanted you to be a mother to me." Ayat didn't look up. "That was all." Ayat says.
Aunt looks everywhere but at Ayat. My heart breaks to see how deep a human can feel, how feelings overly consume one's whole identity, either it's guilt or helplessness. It was never Ayat's fault. Aunt had a choice. To be a good mother to us, but she chose not to be. And so, Ayat craved that motherly love her entire life, and become the mother she never had to all the orhapn kids of her farm institution. She became better, and not the same as Aunt. She changed the cycle, she did it all by herself. And I don't think I can do the same. For what I imagine myself doing in the next few years, I only see myself the same way my father turned out to be. I don't think I have the strength she holds so gracefuly. I don't think I can ever break the cycle. The monster screams inside me, and I grow sadly weak with each breakout.
"I know." Aunt's voice is low.
"You're struggling financially." Ifan pointed out. Finally someone did.
"It's okay." Aunt smiles.
"It's not though." Ayat looked over at me. I nod to her concern and I take out my check book. "Here you go Aunt" I pass it to her after ripping it off.
"Oh no, no that's not-"
"Keep it, I insist" I put in on her hand and close it putting her other hand over it. "It's enough to last four to five years" I say. "If or when you need more, just ask. I'll be a call away"
"Why are you helping me?"
"Because that's what we're supposed to do." Ayat sat down on her knees infront of Aunt. "Even though you were never good to us. You did raised us, fed us, and kept us. And that's enough." Ayat gives her a small hug. One of the reasons why I like her so much. She's an empath, she cares about people, even when they're not worthy of care, even when they're not nice to her, she cares.
She's the good in us-
If she wasn't a part of our lives, we would've turned into monster ages ago.
She's the reason we still have a little good in us.
"Yeah, thank you for that." Ifan says.
"At least someone was there to keep us." I smile at her.
"Why don't the four of us have lunch together? I'll cook. After all it is the day of Thanksgiving." Ayat stands back up.
"Might celebrate it humbly." I continue her sentence.
Aunt sparked a smile.
The dinner felt surreal, a family so desperately completed. A family too ruined.
But with the one who ruined everything gone.
We laughed wholeheartedly. A family damaged enough to joke about our diseased uncle. A family so imperfectly perfect. Aunt never fully apologised, and we didn't need it anymore.
We ate, laughed, and moved on. That's what life is.
And so we parted ways again. She felt happier than before.
And I'm glad we were the ones there for her.
On our way back, Ifan and I walked through the same streets where we used to run and play- where we used to share our pain and cry, we went to the same store where I first saved him from those boys. The memory of that moment isn't very bright for me but I got to meet him and that's all that matters today. The sun's setting, and rays of golden light strikes our faces and these streets. It's beautiful.
"Wow uncle really is dead." Ifan says, his voice slow and low.
"Yeah."
"Asshole made our lives living hell." Ifan turns to me.
We both crack up laughing.
"Race you to Chad's House!" He yells and starts running. I run behind him, when I couldn't catch up, I push him and we both fall over, bursting out in laughter.
"Oh god-" I sigh, tyring to stand back up.
"Help me get up." His voice bearly came out clear as he was still laughing.
"And what do you think, you're doing laying on the ground- you brave slave!" I say giving him my hand. He dodges my hand and pulls my leg, I fall down besides him.
"Ouch!" I laugh.
We both take a deep sigh to contain our laughter. But as soon as we look at each other again, we crack up giggling again.
"Shut up!" I yell. "Son of a gun!" Ifan laughs, snorting like a pig, which only adds more humour.
We feel a shadow above us, so we sit up.
"Oh aren't you guys still children." Ayat stands with her hand on her hip, here comes the bossy lecture again.
She pulls us both up and all three of us start to walk.
"So where do you guys wanna eat now." Ifan asks.
"Chai Dhaba?" I say.
"Oo I've never been there." Ayat rubs her hands in coldness.
"Oo we're still not taking you." I exactly match her tone to mock her.
"You're such a dog!" She rolls her eyes and is madly walking away from us. Ifan and I laugh at her first.
"We're kidding! Let's show you around." But then we both put our arms around her shoulder, to keep her within us.
Among us.
Between us.