Chapter 1
I was 15 and it was a spring morning when I got up from my bed to frenzied sunlight fallen upon the floor, sieved through one of our many cherry trees in the backyard, which had bloomed to the extent of its glory. And the clear blue sky perfectly blended with the palette of pink, white, and ivory of the tree. It was a Sunday, and the usual alarm that my mother graciously sets with her little cane was absent, which unbolted me to sleep further than I usually do. The cane was a source of fear rather than an object of pain because she had never used it on me or my sister. But the concept of it was well known to her and me, as we have some very angry teachers at our school.
The reminder of the day’s significance trickled through my mind like water running through dry land for the first time, which energised all my nerves and jolted me out of the blurred state of my mind as well as my vision. I could hear the usual rants far down from the floor, from which I concluded my sister had done something wrong. She was a silly little thing who I secretly adored but masked with my usual coldish demeanour.
Looking back on those days, all I can powerfully recall, other than anything or any circumstances, was my room. I have had plenty of temptation to decorate with posters of the things I liked, but I hated to be pretentious in any way possible. Thus my room stayed simple and empty, though the richness in those materialistic absences was tranquil.
I walked to the window to enjoy the majestic tree and the fantastic imagery it permeated, which was kind of my morning ritual, which I had inadvertently become accustomed to. But it wasn’t the tree nor the bright blue sky that I enjoyed; it was the vast field that spread across a large portion of the land and consisted of grapes, and the tiny house at the end of the horizon that assured me that I was not alone on the planet. And to think of the person inside the house, who would now be pleasantly having her breakfast, was an emotional overture to my phlegmatic self. The ritual usually ends in a sad realisation of my unworthiness, which has always been a solid factor in my usual morning aggravation, and it would take some time and some random conversations to bring myself back together. That day wasn’t special either.
Father was busy striding back and forth in the hallway looking for his things to go somewhere while Mother read her book lying on the couch. My sister, Aria, who was just 8 at the time, played with Einstein, which was our black Persian cat. She was closer to Einstein than I was, but I loved that lovely little fur ball rolling around in our little house. My father was a major producer of grapes, and my mother was a writer.
When my father finally made sure he had everything and finally became idle, reading from a piece of paper he drew from his pocket, my footstep came to the ears of my mother, and slowly she lowered her book to gaze at me. I was all dressed and ready to go out. Learning that, she closed the book and said, "No one is going out without having their breakfast. Not even your father." My father glanced at my mother, and the seriousness of her face was daunting enough for him to take a quick seat beside me and open the lids of pots of food that had been cooked. He said while pouring curry from the pot, "Tsk tsk tsk, you were waiting for the last minute to remind me so that you could waste my time. And you know how I hate wasting time. This is my punishment, isn't it?” My mother, who by now had masked her face with a book, gave a little nod to my father’s query.
I finished my breakfast and sat near my mother while my father left the house with a thud of the door behind him. "What are you reading?" I asked.
"’How to murder a man," she told as a joke, which made me smile a little.
She lowered her book. "Now where are you heading, young man?"
"To see John. We were going to explore the south today."
"Right right. Southland Expedition you were telling me about last week. How was your Northland Expedition?"
Bees," I lowered my face, feeling defeat.
"Right. So you know how to run from danger, do you?"
"Yes"
"This time, take your sister with you. She has been spending a lot of time with that creature. She would get sick inhaling all that fur floating around."
I was reluctant to take Aria because she would run along like a free-spirited ghost all over the land before reaching the destination. It would be evening by then, and we will have to come back kissing another failure. Although I tried to convince my mother that it would be a bad idea, she did not step back from her decision and finally gave me an ultimatum: either we both go or no one will. It was kind of an interesting expedition, and it was the part where even my father did not explore much. Ergo, I had to succumb to her suggestion of taking Aria with me.
My judgements are not always correct, but Aria, with all her heart, proved otherwise, for she ran like she was flying around me while I focused on the tyre tracks that my father had painted along his way to the town. Our land had spread over so many acres that we had to walk for at least 5 minutes to reach the gates that opened to the road. Watching Aria run here and there without any purpose, bouncing her black, messy bob hair, which shined silver in the sunlight, was oddly entertaining for me, but I occasionally and insincerely told her to stop, to which she never gave the slightest care.
The gate was a small iron one with a string of concrete walls connecting on both sides. We opened the gate, producing a squeaking sound that was absent when I closed it from the other side. And the road was not concrete or tarred but bare, hard brown sand itself, with medium-tall blades of grass railing on both sides as if to guide one through the said road. I had to meet John first, and then we had to enter through the north gate of our land to walk towards the south together. I took the right and purposefully walked with Aria, who was now having quite a hard time even taking a walk because of all those running around. It was a 30-minute walk from the gate to John’s house.
I rang the bell, which was hung on the door side. His mother answered the door with a lovely smile and asked us to come inside. But I was already late, so I respectfully refused and asked for John. "He had already left looking for you. I saw him cross your gate on the north side of your land. Haven’t you seen him?" I can understand how his mother was becoming quite alarmed. So I told her with a simple scratch on the back of my head. "Oh right. I told him to wait for me near the gate. I forgot." I said, to which she simply sighed with a great deal of relief that flared through her breath like a dragon emitting fire. "Thank you, ma'am. I’ll go meet him now."
Oh, I didn’t see this cute little thing with you." She lowered herself to her knees and patted Aria on her head, which made Aria’s round, black owl eyes stare at her, closing them each time she patted.
I followed the road towards the south side. Now, an interesting thing about the south side gate is that it was near the house, as I explained earlier. The house, which I stared at every morning. To put it simply, ‘my morning routine’ so to speak. My heart pounded quicker as a measure of being closer to this particular house. And all my senses shut off near it, like a compass becoming clueless to point while being near magnetic substances. In a way, the house did attract me as a magnet would. Aria, which had no idea, looked at my face puzzled. I took back control over my face, grabbed her arm, and walked through our land after opening the gate. This corner of the land was very special because I could see my house, warehouse, and other small buildings that my father built, and of course, the charming cherry trees stood between each of these buildings, showing off their pink feathers to the sky and the land. I had to stand there for quite some time to fully grasp the beauty of the landscape I was witnessing. Of course, I had seen this view a dozen times, but during the spring the colours become richer.
I was surprised to hear that John had already left the house for the expedition, but we haven’t planned to meet up anywhere. The northland was bare and had been cleared by my father for the cultivation of different varieties of vegetables and fruits. Southland was the starting point of the forest that spread around the whole area, and the mountains inside it were visible from anywhere. I walked through the barren land, often glancing at the house, which stood some 500 metres away from me. I prayed to see her coming out of the house now. It was a two-story building, and I already knew her room was on the top floor. I finally began to come back to the situation at hand, which was about John. I searched for him everywhere, but there was no luck. I reached a green dome made of cloth, which contained vegetation. Besides it, there was a small wooden building to keep some equipment. The sun was scorching hot, and I had to rest while inside, and Aria seemed tired too. There was a torn couch inside, which we moved last summer, and it granted us some relief from the tiredness. I leaned back against the soft and uneven cushion of the couch.
When I woke up, I was very irritated by the amount of sweat that had clung to my body. And I felt even more tired than I was before entering the building. It took a second to realise that Aria wasn’t anywhere near. I sprung myself up from the couch and ran to the fields. The sun had come directly above, and the sweat have become worse now with all the tensions. I screamed my lungs out, calling her name, and ran as far as I could to look for her. With all the energy pumping out of me through physical and mental exhaustion, I had no choice but to be on my knees on the hot sand, crying loudly and still calling her name. I had no sense of where I was, but a sudden glance upon which my eyes halted revealed the house, which was now a few metres away. And there on the first-floor balcony where she stands, a petite figure with short black hair with violet-coloured highlights on the tips, holding Aria by the hand, staring at me with a little smile that Aria also imitated.
