Chapter 25 -
05/20/2018
I sat on the edge of the bed, when a sudden urge to validate my return crept up my chest.
I scanned through the room, till my eyes landed on the Tablet on my nightstand. I powered it on quickly and double-tapped open Google Chrome. I typed in the website address and was led to the homepage where I keyed in my login.
I had kept an online journal since the start of middle school. I decided to write down funny things I heard, ideas I found interesting and experiences like camping and sleepovers that added small pleasures to my relatively unimaginative schooldays.
Once awhile I would put in a few lines about incidents that bothered me at the time. Like the fact that I felt alone, when I was around others and the vice versa that I felt someone’s presence, when I was actually alone. Despite the odd feelings, I was a firm believer of divesting negative thoughts which the journal helped me purge.
I scrolled down the webpages. The first entry I turned to was written last fall. “October 9th. Vassie and Christy came over to hang out in the afternoon. We made cinnamon rolls using Mom’s recipe. But after we were done baking, the girls would not have more than one piece because they ‘still wanted to fit into their jeans,’ as they said. They laughed when I had my third roll. But I didn’t care.
I just love how cinnamon is both spicy and sweet. The flavor always reminds me of the fall. There is something about the season that sooths me. I remember having seen a photo of someone in a white dress standing in the woods with the foliage around her.
The picture was taken from the ground up with the sun behind her so her face appeared hazy and was unrecognizable. The photo captured a truly breathtaking view with the all leaves dancing around her. I think that’s what made autumn my favorite season.”
I recalled writing about that afternoon and thinking of the photo. Excited with a rush of memories, I clicked over to another entry.
“December 15th. I don’t even know where to begin. Vassie and I were at Raffle’s Ice Rink this evening, and I was tying the laces of my skates, when I heard his voice. I looked up and spotted him by the entrance with some kids from our school. He didn’t notice me studying him. Thank goodness.
When we stepped onto the rink, he came around and said “hello,” mostly to Vassie, because they were both on the swimming teams. But I caught him glancing over at me, and it made me uncomfortable so I skated away. Later Vassie and I were doing laps and chatting, and I noticed him passing us a few rounds.
He was fast and unruffled through the crowds. He was clearly skilled but he was certainly reckless. I was just turning to respond to something Vassie had said, when I felt it – a squeeze to my hand. Not a light, accidental tap. But a solid clasp of my hand. And when I turned in surprise, I found him sweeping by me with my hand in his. The contact lasted only a few seconds before I was released and he was gone. I was so dazed that my eyes traced him halfway across the rink, till he whipped around with a grin. Or a smirk. Was he playing with me? Why? I must look flustered. I didn’t know what to think of it.”
Confusion and embarrassment washed over me again, as the incident replayed in my head. The entry was about Lectyn Kore, the athletic stud who was never sighted without popular girls around him. He was friendly, always cruising through school hallways with relaxed lips curved up on one side. But he also seemed reckless, like he cared for nothing in the world. He was just so far removed from my circle that I would never expect what happened at the rink to happen.
The thought of Lectyn made me wonder if he and I would end up in the same high school. In my town there were two schools, Lavio High and Cloveta High which was the one I had been assigned to. There must be entry updates about it in the journal, since my graduation from middle school in the spring. Feeling curious, I flipped through the pages again.
But a gentle nudge to my foot gave me pause. I peeped down to find Swallow rubbing the side of her body against my leg. I scooped her up into my chest, loving the way she purred.
When I first saw her, she was perched up on a tree branch outside my window. She had been a tiny kitten with fine black furs on the back and white specks below her chin. I had mistakenly thought of her as a swallow, the bird. I didn’t know how she got herself up there. But as soon as I discovered that she had been stranded, I decided to rescue her.
I had sneaked into Sam’s room and dug out the critter nets from his closet. I went back to my room and climbed out of the balcony with it. It was only in hindsight that I came to see how bold I had been with half of my body hanging out of the guardrails and I had never even given a sign of fear as a flinch.
I looped my left arm around the railing and sent the screened hoop as far out as I could, till it caught the tree branch. I withdrew very slowly, holding my breath, terrified that I might disturb the kitten. Interestingly though, she kept her gaze on me the whole time, shifting not once.
I dropped the critter net and cooed softly. “Hey there. Little Swallow, come here. Little Swallow.” My heart fluttered with joy, when she responded with a throaty purr. The next thing I knew she had nudged forward and slithered right down into my arms. Since then Swallow had made my room her new home.
I realized that Swallow had stopped purring and my bedroom was very quiet, making the ticking of the clock exceptionally loud. I glanced over to find that it was already five thirty.
Enough of walking down the memory lane. I logged out of the site and power off the Tablet. Swallow jumped to the nightstand, as I shoved back into the pile of books. I opened the bedroom door and quickly made my way down the stairs.
“Mom, I have to head out,” I stood in the hallway.
“You want to eat something first?” Mother walked over from the family room.
“No, I will grabb dinner at BeBo’s. I’m meeting up with Vassie there,” I replied, feeling guilty that I had to leave right after I got home.
“Okay. The key is on top of the shoe cabinet.”
“What key?”
“Sash, the car key,” replied Mother.
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I had planned on asking Mother for a ride, but I was offered the car itself. I searched her face for tale tell signs that she had misspoken and her expression showed nothing unusual.
My eyes trailed after her, as she stepped over to the shoe cabinet, picked up the key from a delicate China bowl and placed it into my hand.
“For a responsible sixteen-year-old,” said Mother, as she smoothed out a wrinkle on my dress.
Mother’s hand was surprisingly cold and I shivered at her touch. Still dazed at the episode, I gingerly tightened my grip around the car key, before slipped away from Mother.
I went into the garage and immediately felt ashamed like I had committed a crime. I finally managed to step into the driver’s seat and reminded myself that it was Mother who had handed me the key which meant that it was perfectly fine for me to be behind the wheels. Except that that I had no recollection of ever qualifying to drive without supervision.
Hadn’t I just passed the permit exam?
And did mother say “sixteen” earlier?
How was it possible that I was now sixteen?
I forced aside my sense of guilt and started the engine. In a weird way, I seemed to know exactly what to do to maneuver the heavily built vehicle.
Soon I was channeling through the familiar streets, rounding a gas station before pulling up to a stop sign with ease. As I sat back with one hand loosely on the steering wheel, I put my driving mind on autopilot and began mulling over my current situation.
I had heard of how some people coped with traumatic experiences by having their mind lock up the most stressful period to avoid dealing with the anxiety.
It had happened to me before, hadn’t it? I had lost my memories before the age of five. It must be a way my mind dealt with whatever transpired over ten years ago.
I was positive that after being taken to AohhoA, my mind was playing the same tricks. With repressed memories, my life could go on uninterrupted now that I had returned. This explained why I had gone through the entire summer without remembering things like winning the gymnastic competition or passing my driver’s test.
I was growing certain of this theory, when the car pulled into an empty space right outside BeBo a little before six o’clock. I rammed the gear to park and killed the engine.
The diner was exactly how I remembered, with the neon lights sputtering an “Open” sign on the smudged windows. When I stepped through the glass door, the familiar smell of French fries and bacon grease hit me like a tidal wave. I glanced about the place. The red lamps above beige tables casted soft orange beams over the red vinyl upholstery booth. Everything looked the same.
A few groups of patrons peppered the roomy restaurant. I was relieved to find our usual spot unoccupied. I swiped on my phone, keyed in “I’m here. Same spot” and sent the text off to Vassie, as I walked up and slid into our booth against the window.
Through the haze of the street lamp, I caught a familiar figure walking in short strutting steps. It was Vassie for sure. Only she could rock those lemon colored slip-on wedges with all her confidence overflowing from them.
Her woven ringlets of hair bounced up and down her shoulders, as she walked through the door and swayed over to me. “Someone looks awfully excited,” Vassie said, as she glided into the booth.
“You have no idea. I am just so happy to see you again!” I told her.
“I am happy to see you too, since last night!” she winked at me. “Let’s grab a bite first.” She turned to the waitress who approached us with two menus and an order pad.
We both got turkey club sandwich with fries and a side of coleslaw. As an afterthought, Vassie asked to remove mayonnaise from her sandwich and added diet coke, before the waitress strode off.
I waited till there were just the two of us again. “I have something to tell you,” I said in a hushed tone. Thoughts about AohhoA had been squeezing my chest so tight that if I didn’t spill them out, I would implode. “The place that I was telling you earlier on the phone? It is called the Kingdom of AohhoA,” I began, ignoring her raised eyebrow. “It has the weirdest things, like koalas with eyes the size of a watermelon.”
“Is this about the pear and the bear again?” Vassie leaned back, “A strange dream. Isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not a dream,” I shook my head. “That’s what I am trying to tell you. I think the place is real.”
“Was real,” she straightened, when the waitress returned with a glass of water and the diet coke. “Sasha. Whatever you think that you’ve gone through. Leave it behind you. Focus on what you’ve got here,” she said and closed her eyes, as she sipped her rink.
“I can’t just do that,” my voice rose. “There were so much that had happened. The place was made of different Pockets that were blocked off from entry. But I was able to travel from Pockets to Pockets. It was chaotic but exciting.” I tried to explain. I wanted to convince her with every little detail.
But Vassie laid a hand on my wrist and battered her beautiful long lashes. “Do not turn around, but I think someone you’d want to see just walked in.”
“Who is it?” I felt blood boiling up inside me.
“Lectyn,” Vassie mouthed. “The Lectyn.”
A burning sensation made my heart flutter like a lost bird, as I thought of the only boy that I had ever written about in my diary.
I scanned through the room, till my eyes landed on the Tablet on my nightstand. I powered it on quickly and double-tapped open Google Chrome. I typed in the website address and was led to the homepage where I keyed in my login.
I had kept an online journal since the start of middle school. I decided to write down funny things I heard, ideas I found interesting and experiences like camping and sleepovers that added small pleasures to my relatively unimaginative schooldays.
Once awhile I would put in a few lines about incidents that bothered me at the time. Like the fact that I felt alone, when I was around others and the vice versa that I felt someone’s presence, when I was actually alone. Despite the odd feelings, I was a firm believer of divesting negative thoughts which the journal helped me purge.
I scrolled down the webpages. The first entry I turned to was written last fall. “October 9th. Vassie and Christy came over to hang out in the afternoon. We made cinnamon rolls using Mom’s recipe. But after we were done baking, the girls would not have more than one piece because they ‘still wanted to fit into their jeans,’ as they said. They laughed when I had my third roll. But I didn’t care.
I just love how cinnamon is both spicy and sweet. The flavor always reminds me of the fall. There is something about the season that sooths me. I remember having seen a photo of someone in a white dress standing in the woods with the foliage around her.
The picture was taken from the ground up with the sun behind her so her face appeared hazy and was unrecognizable. The photo captured a truly breathtaking view with the all leaves dancing around her. I think that’s what made autumn my favorite season.”
I recalled writing about that afternoon and thinking of the photo. Excited with a rush of memories, I clicked over to another entry.
“December 15th. I don’t even know where to begin. Vassie and I were at Raffle’s Ice Rink this evening, and I was tying the laces of my skates, when I heard his voice. I looked up and spotted him by the entrance with some kids from our school. He didn’t notice me studying him. Thank goodness.
When we stepped onto the rink, he came around and said “hello,” mostly to Vassie, because they were both on the swimming teams. But I caught him glancing over at me, and it made me uncomfortable so I skated away. Later Vassie and I were doing laps and chatting, and I noticed him passing us a few rounds.
He was fast and unruffled through the crowds. He was clearly skilled but he was certainly reckless. I was just turning to respond to something Vassie had said, when I felt it – a squeeze to my hand. Not a light, accidental tap. But a solid clasp of my hand. And when I turned in surprise, I found him sweeping by me with my hand in his. The contact lasted only a few seconds before I was released and he was gone. I was so dazed that my eyes traced him halfway across the rink, till he whipped around with a grin. Or a smirk. Was he playing with me? Why? I must look flustered. I didn’t know what to think of it.”
Confusion and embarrassment washed over me again, as the incident replayed in my head. The entry was about Lectyn Kore, the athletic stud who was never sighted without popular girls around him. He was friendly, always cruising through school hallways with relaxed lips curved up on one side. But he also seemed reckless, like he cared for nothing in the world. He was just so far removed from my circle that I would never expect what happened at the rink to happen.
The thought of Lectyn made me wonder if he and I would end up in the same high school. In my town there were two schools, Lavio High and Cloveta High which was the one I had been assigned to. There must be entry updates about it in the journal, since my graduation from middle school in the spring. Feeling curious, I flipped through the pages again.
But a gentle nudge to my foot gave me pause. I peeped down to find Swallow rubbing the side of her body against my leg. I scooped her up into my chest, loving the way she purred.
When I first saw her, she was perched up on a tree branch outside my window. She had been a tiny kitten with fine black furs on the back and white specks below her chin. I had mistakenly thought of her as a swallow, the bird. I didn’t know how she got herself up there. But as soon as I discovered that she had been stranded, I decided to rescue her.
I had sneaked into Sam’s room and dug out the critter nets from his closet. I went back to my room and climbed out of the balcony with it. It was only in hindsight that I came to see how bold I had been with half of my body hanging out of the guardrails and I had never even given a sign of fear as a flinch.
I looped my left arm around the railing and sent the screened hoop as far out as I could, till it caught the tree branch. I withdrew very slowly, holding my breath, terrified that I might disturb the kitten. Interestingly though, she kept her gaze on me the whole time, shifting not once.
I dropped the critter net and cooed softly. “Hey there. Little Swallow, come here. Little Swallow.” My heart fluttered with joy, when she responded with a throaty purr. The next thing I knew she had nudged forward and slithered right down into my arms. Since then Swallow had made my room her new home.
I realized that Swallow had stopped purring and my bedroom was very quiet, making the ticking of the clock exceptionally loud. I glanced over to find that it was already five thirty.
Enough of walking down the memory lane. I logged out of the site and power off the Tablet. Swallow jumped to the nightstand, as I shoved back into the pile of books. I opened the bedroom door and quickly made my way down the stairs.
“Mom, I have to head out,” I stood in the hallway.
“You want to eat something first?” Mother walked over from the family room.
“No, I will grabb dinner at BeBo’s. I’m meeting up with Vassie there,” I replied, feeling guilty that I had to leave right after I got home.
“Okay. The key is on top of the shoe cabinet.”
“What key?”
“Sash, the car key,” replied Mother.
I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. I had planned on asking Mother for a ride, but I was offered the car itself. I searched her face for tale tell signs that she had misspoken and her expression showed nothing unusual.
My eyes trailed after her, as she stepped over to the shoe cabinet, picked up the key from a delicate China bowl and placed it into my hand.
“For a responsible sixteen-year-old,” said Mother, as she smoothed out a wrinkle on my dress.
Mother’s hand was surprisingly cold and I shivered at her touch. Still dazed at the episode, I gingerly tightened my grip around the car key, before slipped away from Mother.
I went into the garage and immediately felt ashamed like I had committed a crime. I finally managed to step into the driver’s seat and reminded myself that it was Mother who had handed me the key which meant that it was perfectly fine for me to be behind the wheels. Except that that I had no recollection of ever qualifying to drive without supervision.
Hadn’t I just passed the permit exam?
And did mother say “sixteen” earlier?
How was it possible that I was now sixteen?
I forced aside my sense of guilt and started the engine. In a weird way, I seemed to know exactly what to do to maneuver the heavily built vehicle.
Soon I was channeling through the familiar streets, rounding a gas station before pulling up to a stop sign with ease. As I sat back with one hand loosely on the steering wheel, I put my driving mind on autopilot and began mulling over my current situation.
I had heard of how some people coped with traumatic experiences by having their mind lock up the most stressful period to avoid dealing with the anxiety.
It had happened to me before, hadn’t it? I had lost my memories before the age of five. It must be a way my mind dealt with whatever transpired over ten years ago.
I was positive that after being taken to AohhoA, my mind was playing the same tricks. With repressed memories, my life could go on uninterrupted now that I had returned. This explained why I had gone through the entire summer without remembering things like winning the gymnastic competition or passing my driver’s test.
I was growing certain of this theory, when the car pulled into an empty space right outside BeBo a little before six o’clock. I rammed the gear to park and killed the engine.
The diner was exactly how I remembered, with the neon lights sputtering an “Open” sign on the smudged windows. When I stepped through the glass door, the familiar smell of French fries and bacon grease hit me like a tidal wave. I glanced about the place. The red lamps above beige tables casted soft orange beams over the red vinyl upholstery booth. Everything looked the same.
A few groups of patrons peppered the roomy restaurant. I was relieved to find our usual spot unoccupied. I swiped on my phone, keyed in “I’m here. Same spot” and sent the text off to Vassie, as I walked up and slid into our booth against the window.
Through the haze of the street lamp, I caught a familiar figure walking in short strutting steps. It was Vassie for sure. Only she could rock those lemon colored slip-on wedges with all her confidence overflowing from them.
Her woven ringlets of hair bounced up and down her shoulders, as she walked through the door and swayed over to me. “Someone looks awfully excited,” Vassie said, as she glided into the booth.
“You have no idea. I am just so happy to see you again!” I told her.
“I am happy to see you too, since last night!” she winked at me. “Let’s grab a bite first.” She turned to the waitress who approached us with two menus and an order pad.
We both got turkey club sandwich with fries and a side of coleslaw. As an afterthought, Vassie asked to remove mayonnaise from her sandwich and added diet coke, before the waitress strode off.
I waited till there were just the two of us again. “I have something to tell you,” I said in a hushed tone. Thoughts about AohhoA had been squeezing my chest so tight that if I didn’t spill them out, I would implode. “The place that I was telling you earlier on the phone? It is called the Kingdom of AohhoA,” I began, ignoring her raised eyebrow. “It has the weirdest things, like koalas with eyes the size of a watermelon.”
“Is this about the pear and the bear again?” Vassie leaned back, “A strange dream. Isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not a dream,” I shook my head. “That’s what I am trying to tell you. I think the place is real.”
“Was real,” she straightened, when the waitress returned with a glass of water and the diet coke. “Sasha. Whatever you think that you’ve gone through. Leave it behind you. Focus on what you’ve got here,” she said and closed her eyes, as she sipped her rink.
“I can’t just do that,” my voice rose. “There were so much that had happened. The place was made of different Pockets that were blocked off from entry. But I was able to travel from Pockets to Pockets. It was chaotic but exciting.” I tried to explain. I wanted to convince her with every little detail.
But Vassie laid a hand on my wrist and battered her beautiful long lashes. “Do not turn around, but I think someone you’d want to see just walked in.”
“Who is it?” I felt blood boiling up inside me.
“Lectyn,” Vassie mouthed. “The Lectyn.”
A burning sensation made my heart flutter like a lost bird, as I thought of the only boy that I had ever written about in my diary.
