Azure Blue: the in-progress Novel

Pre-note:

         First of all, I'd like to explain that this story is more or less finished, with a proper beginning and an ending, though there are some juicy parts I left out which I haven't had time to add in yet.

         As for the chronological order: this story happens after

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and before

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but each story is an individual story; you don't have to follow the sequence unless you're really curious about the storyline and the characters especially.

         Furthermore, as with my other stories, if you're unable to finish reading anything in my portfolio in one seating, I really hope you'd come back again (and again, if necessary) to continue where you left off. Sorry: I'm not able to chop this into chapters under individual files, because I've reached my port limit. And please don't be put off by my verbal diarrhea; I just hope that you'll give this story a chance and just browse through first - who knows if you find it to your liking after all?

          And last but not least, I wish to thank you for visiting me in the first place, and I really hope you enjoy my work. Constructive feedback is always welcomed! Please let me know who you are so I can return the favor!

 

AZURE BLUE

 

1) Going Home

 

         I could not remember a moment when I had not enjoyed the others’ company wholeheartedly, whether individually or collectively. They never cease to make me smile with their lavish attention and friendly banter.

         Perhaps it had something to do with my long stint at the hospital. I felt like I had stayed there a lifetime, even more so when I sheepishly recall how I had to discover everything again, as if going through a second childhood – how to walk, talk and even feed myself.

          I had been comatose for months, and when I came to, I had no recollection of who I was, much less how I came into such predicament. I imagine the others were probably crushed to hear about my loss of memory, but nobody ever so much as breathed a word of this to me.

         Henri had told me the story again and again about how some people in Northern Mugamba had chanced upon me in some bushes by a roadside. Not a very dignified place, I must add. Once they found the identification and travel documents I had on me, they had promptly alerted our headquarters on the other side of the Basin Ocean.

          According to Henri, a lot of things didn’t add up. For starters, I wasn’t even supposed to be there. I had last been reported to be in the Mucia Pasifika region – which country or city, he didn’t specify.

         Another puzzling question was the nature of my coma. When the Mugambians found me, it was clear that the trauma that shook my brain so hard it resulted in loss of memory did not occur anywhere near the desert spot where they came upon me, nor was it recent. In fact, the kind people had given detailed accounts of my clean but slightly dusty bandages. It was as if somebody had carefully tended to my wounds but had to leave me there by the roadside due to some unknown reason for sympathetic discoverers to send me safely home.

          Henri’s tale contained lots of loopholes and raised more questions than answers, like, what was I supposed to be doing in Mucia Pasifika, for example? Or why wasn’t a search party sent to Mugamba to look for me when I was reported missing? Was it because the others lacked the necessary information and weren’t exactly sure where to look for me? Or could it be that they weren’t aware of my disappearance at all, thinking I was still in sunny Pasifika?

         Sometimes I suspected that Henri held certain information back from me, yet I chose not to confront him. He was after all the only one from the Gang willing to impart valuable information – unlike the others who were more tight-lipped. At times, when I had drained and exhausted Henri of information to the point that he had no drive to continue talking, I would talk instead to the doctors and nurses. They were usually eager to share any information with me through their chats and gossips. Yet their answers seldom satisfied me, as there were still a lot of gray areas they would not, or could not, venture into.

          It was through such exchange of remarks with a Dr. Ryan that I first heard about the mysterious medical inconsistencies concerning me. I wasn’t sure whether he had deliberately or accidentally let it slip, but the information he relayed in bits and pieces somewhat alarmed me. He had casually mentioned that I had previously crushed my entire left hand in a freak accident a few years before the Mugamba incident. They weren’t able to save it at all and - due to some emerging technological innovation at the time – decided instead to replace the hand from the left wrist up with a bionic one, turning me into a cyborg guinea pig of sorts.

         The wise guy made wisecracks about how I was forced to wear gloves all the time to hide my mechanically engineered body part “so as not to frighten little children.” He added that it was an ideal place to transplant a transponder – which he assured me the rest of the Gang had, too – with the silicon chip circuitry transmitting a signal which, among other things, acted as a homing device. He claimed this had saved my life more than once and even showed me x-rays and related hospital records to illustrate his point. In fact, this was what prevented my earlier detection in Mugamba and puzzled Dr. Ryan as well– the current absence of the bionic hand, its place taken instead by a donor’s natural hand.

          I studied the hand in question, flexing and clenching it repeatedly to assure myself it was still attached to the rest of me and would not fall off. Doing this, I noticed the almost invisible line zig-zagging across the wrist and that the whole area from the wrist up was slightly lighter in color when compared to the tan skin on my arm, but not so much as to be noticeable in one passing glance. It also differed from my right hand, the former being a tad larger, with a narrower palm and artistic long and slender fingers. There were bigger pores and more hair on the back of the hand, too.

         Looking at it prompted me to wonder whether the donor had been male or female. Dead (more likely) or still alive. I was convinced that the hand appeared too dainty and feminine to be a man’s, yet its size made me have second thoughts.

         Dr. Ryan elaborated how they had taken tissue samples from the hand and ran various tests to determine the identity of the mysterious donor, all at the urging of the Gang when I was deep in my comatose sleep – or so he claimed. The long days at the hospital taught me not to believe nor mind this kooky character too much. But in the end, he explained how he had come to a dead end – the deoxyribonucleic acid samples just didn’t match any existing record in their database. They continued searching for the elusive pair from other hospitals’ database all over the globe, but all to no avail.

         Dr. Ryan had then went on to criticize the surgery done on my hand – granted, it must have been a tedious time-consuming operation – done not more than a month before I was found, according to his scientific deductions – very carefully done by a caring and considerate benefactor of medical background. It must have been a difficult operation, what with the attachment of sensory and motor endings and support structures, the re-alignment of nerve fiber endings, renewed establishment of mechanosensitivity and neurotransmitters, reconstruction of tissues and regeneration of cells.

          Yet, Dr. Ryan was quick to point out the unknown doctor’s sloppiness, especially the hurried haphazard stitching which had evidently resulted in scarring – “Almost Frankenstein-like,” he had commented inconsiderately enough. It didn’t help my self-esteem either when he further observed how awkward and unbalanced the hand looked on me. He was adamant that the other doctor should have gone through careful selection to pick a more suitable donor with a hand the size, color and texture much closer to my original one.

         At the moment, I was still undergoing therapy with the resident physiologist, and my movements, though still somewhat jerking and uncoordinated with slow response, had improved tremendously. I was thankful for that.

         Sometimes, too, I fancied that the scars made me appear a little stronger. So much for dreaming – either I had been hospitalized for far too long or the head-banging I received affected more than just my memory. I kept wishing there was something different about me, something that would distinguish me from the rest of the pack. Although sometimes I wished I still had my steel cybernetic hand instead – scary-looking, perhaps, but ultimately more macho-looking than even this Frankenstein hand.

         Other than this, Dr. Ryan had also noted that my forearm had been broken at about the same time I fell into a coma. The radius had snapped in two. By now, the bone had healed and mended almost completely, aside from the fact that the bone had re-aligned in an awkward and crooked angle. Thankfully it wasn’t very evident when seen from the outside. Dr. Ryan commented on my exceptional regenerative abilities, adding as an afterthought that coincidentally it was a pretty common trait amongst the Group. I remembered being surprised to learn this fact.

         With regards to my broken arm, the good Dr. Ryan had offered to have it pinned and plated through surgery, or at the very least use a titanium shield to protect the area. But the sudden resurfaced childhood memory of a cartoon character having a steel rod inserted into his hand made me balk at the idea. After all, Dr. Ryan kept getting an endless stream of ideas about everything. It was a good thing when I realized one day that his judgment wasn’t very reliable. In fact, he once offered to re-sew my left hand. I wasn’t sure whether he was joking, but the image of him severing my hand and re-attaching it later on really horrified me.

         Later, the doctor explained that all evidence pointed toward me being comatose at least a month before they discovered me in Mugamba, same time when I broke my arm, same time when I had my Frankenstein hand. Prior to that, he assumed that I had been cared for by a concerned medical practitioner. When I was first sent to this hospital, doctors did not discover any obvious indication of abuse, disease or malnutrition other than the injuries already mentioned. This in itself spoke volumes of the quality of care I had received while lost in the dry poverty- and disease-stricken country of Mugamba, and for this I had been extremely lucky.

         I had another thing to be grateful for today – I was finally being discharged from Antonio Specialist Medical Center in the Melizian capital city of Kismet Kesuma! This was the first and only home I remember, where I had spent all my waking and sleeping hours being lonely and feeling sorry for myself. I couldn’t wait to be released from this bleak prison, with its artificial cheerful ambience, white pristine walls, thoughtless hospital staff who gossiped and chatted airhead-fashion, unpalatable canteen food and equally bad monotonous hospital food as well as that constant overpowering smell, a mixture of detergent and medication.

         I couldn’t contain my excitement and was chatting non-stop with Henri while the others busied themselves with helping me pack my things. Though my limbs were still weak, I could walk a little now, using crutches to support and balance myself. But for my check-out, the others were adamant that I just sit in the hospital wheelchair and let them handle things.

         It was a dreamily beautiful day, and I looked forward to the many outings I was going to have on similar days. Henri was describing to me the Gang’s official headquarters, Cock-a-Doodle Mansion. The name made me giggle and caused some comments from the others.

          “Who gave it such a funny name, I wonder?” Que asked innocently as he helped press down the clothes that Penny had folded deeper into the suitcase atop my single bed. I saw Skye’s cheeks redden and knew automatically the answer to Que’s question.


          “Yeah,” Penny chimed in. “Pretty suggestive name, too.” This evoked hoots of laughter from the guys.

          “Hey,” chided Qit in a voice attempted to be serious. Everyone could see, however, that he was trying his best to stifle a chuckle. “Cool it, will ya? Give her a break. After all, she was only a kid when she was asked to re-name it.”

         Ari was laughing so hard his face turned as red as Skye’s. “Yeah, Skye, what in the world possessed you to give it such a name?”

          “Well,” replied Skye in a subdued voice. “I remembered we had a chicken coop in the garden when I was growing up. I loved seeing fluffy yellow chicks running around. Besides, of the few possessions I had when I first came there was this old nursery book my parents must have left me. On its cover it had a picture of the moon and some dancing animals underneath it, including this huge rooster.”

          “But why Cock?” Que asked cockily. “Why not Hen – sorry, Hen,” he winked at Henri, who at that moment had lost his tongue. “Why not Chick? Chicken? Rooster, even?”

          “Well, then there wouldn’t be ‘a-Doodle’ at the back now, would it?” Skye answered, her face flushed, still trying to hold on the best she could at the vanishing traces of dignity she had left. “Idiot! Besides, the, erm, rooster is supposed to be king of the coop. I thought it had a nice ring to it, and an appropriate name for our headquarters.”

          “At age 12, perhaps,” guffawed Que. “Not at 25. Ow!” He winced painfully as Skye dug her fingernails into his shoulder and pinched him hard. It amazed me to see how fast Skye had moved from one end of the 800-square feet room to the opposite end.


         After that, people shifted their attention elsewhere and conversation resumed on another subject. Through it all, Que continued to rub his sore shoulder for some time.

         Finally, the packing was done. I discovered that during my eight months’ hospital stay, I had collected quite a lot of knick-knacks. Some were gifts from well-meaning visitors which I didn’t have the heart to throw away, others were my personal belongings the Gang had brought in the hope of triggering some recollection on my behalf. Unfortunately, none of the items struck me as familiar, though they managed to calm and soothe me and made my stay more tolerable just by being remnants of my previous life.

         Goodbyes were exchanged with the hospital staff. I felt awkward when some of them gave me bear hugs and actually cried. Even the usually unrefined Dr. Ryan was uncharacteristically solemn that day. He shook my hand goodbye and told me to take good care of myself, then he abruptly pulled Que aside. I saw the former frown and wag his crooked index finger in an agitated manner and caught a glimpse of Que’s discomfort before Skye quickly wheeled me away from the row of waving hospital staff onto the polished patio.

         I turned back to wave a final goodbye and noted that Qit was lagging behind, one of my heavy suitcases in his hand, trudging along slowly while discussing something quietly with his suddenly grim-looking twin. A million questions popped into my head, but I bit my tongue, not wanting to stir any awkward scenarios. Especially when I noticed the others avoiding looking at Que, concentrating instead on cheerful conversation. Nevertheless, they had to stop when we came to the exit door because no one had the car keys. Penny told me that for convenience’s sake, instead of driving separately they had taken a multi-purpose vehicle with them.

          “Hey, Que!” Ari, finally the first other than Qit to acknowledge Que after Dr. Ryan’s finger-wagging episode, hollered to the twins at the back. “Hurry up! The keys are with you, aren’t they?”

          “Yes, they’re right here,” answered Que in a strange voice as he and Qit hurried over.

          “OK,” ordered Ari, as if nothing was wrong. “We’ll wait here with the bags while you go get the car.”

          “Right,” replied Que. Up close, I took in his droopy shoulders and downcast eyes. I suspect most of them were aware of this, too, because they looked edgy and nervous for some reason. He fished out the keys from his pocket and began to jog toward the parking lot.

          “Take a good look around,” Penny advised me. “This might be the last time you’ll see this home of yours. Make sure you don’t miss it too much.”

          “Yeah, right,” I answered sarcastically. But quietly, I did take a good look around, or at least the best I could from my vantage point atop the wheelchair. I took in the rows of well-kept hedges, which reminded me of countless hours spent watching the gardeners trimming them from my window when there was nothing better to do. I memorized the way the palm trees swayed gently in the breeze and remembered how comfortingly cool it was to escape the glare of the sun by sitting under the shade of the old giant oak trees, with birds tweeting soothingly up on the branches. These I know I’d miss.

         All too soon, Que sped up the driveway in a red Tacara MPV and braked abruptly in front of us. There was a sudden clamor, with everyone deciding who should sit where while Ari and Qit hoisted my belongings onto the back of the car. Que came over and opened the front passenger door wide and made things simple for everybody.

          “Well, all you others can squeeze into the back for all I care, but Azure here will sit in front,” he announced, and before anyone could say otherwise, he had scooped me up and gently lowered me onto the front passenger seat. “More ample space for her that way.”

         There was a surprised silence, then I heard Skye barking out orders. “Qit, close the hatch. Ari, please return the wheelchair inside. You others, get in.”

         Everyone followed her directions like clockwork. I smiled at this and turned to see Que getting into the driver’s seat next to me. He gave me a concerned smile and reached over to fasten my seatbelt for me, his pleasant citrus-based perfume wafting up my nose.

          “You OK?” he inquired, peering into my eyes. I realized suddenly that his gold-flecked irises were a startling cerulean blue, almost the same shade as the clear sky above. I couldn’t help also but to notice how a strand of his hair was close to poking one eye.

          “Yeah,” I managed to croak my answer. He nodded in approval as he shifted into gear, checked to see that Ari had climbed in and had properly shut the back passenger door, and began to drive.

         Not knowing what to say or act, I chose instead to fold my arms in a bid to camouflage my discomfort at his proximity. I refused to indulge in small talk and opted instead to concentrate on the side mirror and watch the reflection of the hospital grounds fade slowly from view. Behind us, the others were making a ruckus, laughing over Penny’s current choice of beau and predicting when the relationship would end, with Penny negating every prediction with “No, no, you don’t understand – this time it’s real!”

 

 

2) Home

 

         Once the heavy wrought iron front gates with the equally heavy security swung shut behind us, and we were finally in Cock-a-Doodle Mansion’s grounds, I gasped in disbelief. Henri’s clumsy attempt at descriptions didn’t do the place justice at all. Nothing could have prepared me for it. I realized it was as if I was looking at it through a stranger’s eyes, as if I was a first-time visitor and not a permanent resident there. I was amazed to find that the area was as huge as the hospital, perhaps even larger.

         It was evident that the place was old, perhaps handed down generation after generation. Big old mildewed trees dotted the expansive garden, with trunks thick enough to be a Swiss Family Robinson house, branches intertwined reaching for the heavens, and enormous roots snaking in and out of the ground which you wouldn’t want to trip over. The big leafy tapestry above made the site cool and shady, ideal for picnics. Now and then I spied a squirrel darting up a tree or a bird breaking into song on an overhanging branch.

         The driveway was long and winding. Fallen leaves littered the path and danced underfoot when we sped by. Once, I glimpsed remnants of an old forsaken building. Only part of the dark stone walls could be seen, and even these were obscure and covered by creepers. I turned toward the back and asked Skye what it was.

          “That was the original mansion,” came the reply. “Some time after I arrived here to stay, a fire razed the building, burning it to the ground. The government then stepped in and offered to rebuild the mansion at another site within the compound. The new mansion was built in record-breaking time, taking only half a year or so to complete. I stayed there during its construction in parts of the building fit for occupation.”

          “I wonder who burned it down?” Ari asked wonderingly, whistling a comical tune. This struck me as absurdly funny, and I burst out laughing, only to stop when I realized that Que wore a stony expression and that the others were subdued, too. I turned to look out the window in a bid to cover my sheepishness and resolved to get to the bottom of this.

         Soon, the mansion loomed into view. I was astounded to see that it was a sprawling three-story complex complete with amenities. Penny was going on about the indoor pool and the games courts at the back. She also pointed out that the building we were passing, which I had earlier thought was a house, was really their car garage.

         We finally stopped at the main entrance. The others clambered out and Que rushed to my side.

          “It’s OK,” I told him, blushing a little when he still went ahead and picked me up. “You can put me down. I just need to have my crutches, then I’ll be fine.”

         He lowered me feet first to the ground. I stood up and leaned against the car for balance but he had already put an arm around me to steady me. Qit came up from the back of the MPV and silently passed me the requested crutches. I used them to hobble through the opened doors with one watchful twin on each side.

         Did I mention that though twins, they were nonidentical and different as night and day? Like Penny and Henri, Que was fair-haired, but Qit on the other hand had dark hair and eyes. Que was more open and always ready for a laugh, while Qit seemed stoically quiet and distant at times. Strangers would have automatically guessed they were acquaintances rather than brothers.

         Once inside the mansion, I gasped like a gold fish out of water. I was deeply impressed with the high plaster ceilings and ornate trimmings adorning the hall and reception area. For that was what it was.

          “Allow me to introduce you to Ms. Sandra,” Ari gestured toward an attractive brunette who left her reception desk to greet me with a welcoming smile and a friendly handshake.

         I was glad of this. I knew her face was familiar somehow; I guess she must have visited me at the hospital at one time or another. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what her name or her relationship to me was.

          “She’s what we call the Manageress,” Ari continued. “She manages everything from guests to staff. You’ll find out just how dependent we are on her soon enough. If you run into problems, like not knowing how to contact Skye, or you need somebody from Housekeeping, or you need some extra medication, Sandra’s the man. Or woman. Just tell her and she’ll take care of the rest.”

         We continued walking past the reception and stood at the bottom of the staircase. The staircase actually consisted of double open stairs on both sides, with wrought iron railings incorporating graceful curlicues. The stairs, one facing to the right and one to the left, met in the middle landing, with wider steps leading up from it to the first floor. “You can find the library, gym, swimming pool, spa and sauna, music room, war rooms – that’s what we call our meeting rooms here, lounge, kitchen and dining room on the ground floor. The first floor contains the support staff’s quarters as well as archives and storage rooms. We all reside on the second floor,” explained Skye.

          “Come here, Azure,” she called out to me, patting the seat with its rail mounted to the stair treads on the furthest left.

          “”What the heck is that?” I inquired while coming closer for better inspection. I had noticed it when approaching the staircase and had my suspicions, but refused to think much of it till now.

          “It’s a stair-lift,” explained Skye. “I know you’re gonna be able to walk properly soon, and probably won’t be using this for very long. Besides, there’s the elevator at the back but it’s a rather long way off, and the smell isn’t exactly pleasant. It’s mostly used to transport crates and garbage. So in case you prefer to use the stairs, we’ve installed this for you. Come on, why don’t you give it a try?”

          “Is this thing stable?” I laughed nervously. I was dismayed at her suggestion actually and was more than a little offended that they were making such a big fuss over my limitations. Yet, a side of me couldn’t help but be touched by their obvious concern and initiative.

          “Sure it is,” replied Skye comfortingly. “Just ask Ari and Qit. They’ve been trying it out for weeks just for the fun of it. Come, let me show you how to control the up/down switch. It’s very easy. It’s battery-operated, too, just in case there’s a blackout or something.”

          “Yeah,” Ari chimed in. “Like the major one we had last month – what a bummer. It was all due to that stupid gale. I missed the finale to A Cruel Death because of it.” I smiled, recalling him complaining about the same thing when he visited me the month before.

          “It has a ½ horsepower motor with a bi-directional control button,” Skye was explaining. “The backrest, seat and footrest are all adjustable. The armrests and seat can swivel or be flipped up. The footrest can also be flipped up and it has an anti-skid surface. There’s a bi-directional obstruction sensor attached to it, too.”

          “Why don’t you just try it?” Henri implored. “We’ve requested for a leather seat so it should be quite comfortable.”

         I merely looked at his beseeching smile for a while, trying to make up my mind, then I grinned back my affirmation. What could I say? They had all been pretty convincing. I heard Henri gave a sigh of relief before he came to help me onto the seat.

         Skye explained in detail how to operate the stair-lift. She added that I could place the crutches on my lap when going up and down the stairs.

          “No need for that today,” Que retorted, taking the crutches from my hands.

         So it was in this fashion that I reached the first floor, then the second floor through an identical set of staircase. They pointed out their various rooms and told me mine was the one on the farthest left. No wonder both stair-lifts had been attached to the leftmost handrails. Henri elaborated how they had taken my belongings from the storage room on the first floor and placed them in my then empty room. This confused me.

          “W-what do you mean, m-my things were in the store?” I stammered. For some reason this piece of news distressed me. “Does this mean I hadn’t been staying here before this?”

         Henri was clearly taken aback by the question, but quickly regained his composure. “No, it’s just that you – like the rest of us – have property elsewhere. Just because this is our H.Q. doesn’t mean we stay here all the time. Sometimes we go back to our hometowns to meet family and friends, sometimes we just go to a secluded spot to unwind and get away from it all.”

          “Oh,” I was deep in thought. His answer made sense, even though it did pry open a new set of questions. “I didn’t realize I had money. Where, by the way, is my other residence?”

         Henri looked flustered and stumped without an answer. But quick-witted Skye came to the rescue.

          “Look, I’ll give you the deeds and documents of all your assets,” she smiled at me soothingly. “I know it’s your first day back and it’s only natural for you to be overcome with anxiety. As for your residence, you have more than one, more than two even. I’ll explain everything in detail, to make you better understand. Will tomorrow be OK with you?”

          “Tomorrow it is, then,” I smiled in response, glad that every passing day brought me closer to knowing the person I was before. I needed to have a sense of knowing, of belonging. Otherwise I felt I wouldn’t be complete.

         As we approached my room, Penny went on about how there’s a ladder going up to the roof, but warned me not to attempt going there until my legs were much stronger. Henri walked ahead and unlocked the double wooden doors with a skeleton key, then threw them open wide so that all might enter. As I limped into the room, I gasped appreciatively at the sight of the richly brown wood-heavy room. I knew I must have come across like a blubbering village idiot to the others when I dashed around the room as fast as my crutches could carry me to inspect everything, but I was past caring.

         For starters, it was at least three times as big as my hospital room had been – which I had previously thought was big enough. The floors were made of 5’ teak planks in natural finish – Penny clarified that the floor had originally been made of stone but I had had it changed because it made the room too cold and caused my bare feet to ache and swell.

         The handcrafted wood cornices and plaster ceiling corresponded well with the floor. The walls were a soft pink with a hint of magenta and the wallpaper borders had a white background and embossed in tiny brown Maranganese script. All along the walls were newly installed handgrip bars which Skye assured me would be detached once I was stronger.

         The elegant curtains cascaded down to the floor, with decorative wrought iron ceiling-mounted brackets and a combination of lace and scalloped reddish brown curtains bearing huge floral motifs. The latter had been pulled to the sides and tied with cream-and-brown checkered bows. It was through the secondary hazy cream-colored lace curtain that the sunlight streamed into the room to brighten the otherwise dark and moody ambience.

         There was a queen-sized teak four poster bed with hand-carved ornate designs at one end. A plush brown-toned duvet bearing animal prints covered it, and the canopy was made of brown-checkered valance and accompanying sheer beige netting, tied to the posts with wafts of dark cream satin ribbons. At the foot of the bed was an equally proportionate locked wooden chest doubling as a backless king bench, complete with beige cushioned upholstery and a matching cylindrical cushion by the side of each armrest. Under it was a big soft delicately woven Barbadian carpet.

         Skye passed me a key to open the thick-lidded trunk. Inside was some cash, ID and other personal documents, which Skye promised to go through with me later.

         A floor-to-ceiling mirror adorned the wall on each side of the headrest, and there was a matching bedside table with a table lamp consisting of carved marble and pale yellow fringes by its side. There was a hand-carved teak-wood double-door at one end of the room which opened up to a walk-in closet with all my clothing and accessories organized neatly in the appropriate shelves, drawers and hanging areas. A matching dressing table and stool stood alongside it.

         There was also a dark brown-bricked open fireplace, which looked more decorative than useful. Its poker, broom, scoop and tongs dangled from a wrought iron tree by its side. Skye later on told me it was still operational, and can be used when the cold and wet monsoon season came around. Directly in front of it was a plush carpet made to resemble tiger fur. Beside this, propped like the fireplace against the wall, was a teakwood easel, with an unfinished oil pastel painting mounted against it, the subject still unknown due to obscurity.

         Other than that, the room had a medium-sized alcove consisting of a mahogany foldable study desk with a PC on top and a telephone beside it, complete with a complementing chair, a comfortable leather two-seater and a low wooden bookshelf filled with supposedly some of my favorite books and personal documents. Not far from it was a mini refrigerator half-filled with fruits, chocolate and canned drinks, and beside it a three-shelved pantry of sorts containing plastic-wrapped snacks was built into the wall.

         I explored the bedroom in its entirety through the eyes of a stranger and quickly assessed that one: the others sure went through a lot of trouble to decorate this place from scratch, and two: whoever slept in this room was evidently a dreamer and a romantic, too, judging from the furniture. Oh, yeah, I thought to myself as I browsed through a self-scrawled tale in loose parchments taken from the bookshelf. Add ‘artistic’ to the list, too.

         Afterward, Skye showed me the bay windows which came with the room being a corner unit. Through it I could see part of the estate stretched out below. Directly under the windows was a sky blue-checkered cushioned bench – the only blue furniture evident – with storage compartments beneath the seat which I discovered was half-filled with old, dirty and sometimes torn comic books, paperbacks and sheet music. Which prompted a question from me.

          “Did I play a musical instrument or something?” I asked Skye, gesturing toward the sheet music.

          “Well,” answered Skye carefully, perhaps a little surprised that I didn’t know the answer myself. “All of us had to learn music at some point. You used to play the piano. There’s one in the music room on the ground floor.”

         Used to play, the word reverberated in my brain. Does that mean I don’t have that musical ability anymore? Not that I really cared, but it was nice to know that I unknowingly possessed a surprise talent.

         Skye next led me to what I thought was a huge window on the adjacent wall. It turned out to be a sliding door which, when opened, allowed access to a huge and unbelievably long balcony made of marble tiles and white balustrade. A few garden chairs in white wrought iron bearing pink rose designs and complementing circular garden tables, as well as some classic-looking garden lamps and potted palm plants, dotted the otherwise sparse area. Skye explained that the same balcony was also similarly connected to the other rooms. I walked around for a bit, noticing the sliding door leading to the adjacent unit, and because I couldn’t remember the room positions I was told, asked who my next-door neighbor was.

          “That’d be me,” replied a beaming Que. “You’re welcome anytime. Just use this back entrance, so that the others won’t know.”

         I simply stared at him while he teasingly winked then winced in pain when Skye reached out and pinched him hard for the second time that day, all the while unsure of how to interpret his joking invitation.

          “Just pay no attention to this buffoon,” advised Skye while Que aww-ed in retaliation. “If you need to find me, I’ll be in the corner unit on the other end. But for now, come and enjoy the view from here.”

         She pulled my hand and I followed her to the balcony’s edge. The view was spectacular. I could see almost all of the walled-in mansion grounds and pointed out toward the lake behind the building as well as four horses grazing the grass beside it.


          “What are those?” I asked, asking for further clarification and not exactly sure how to phrase my words.

          “That’s a man-made lake,” Penny replied, leaning against the balustrade next to me. “Convenient when you feel like swimming out in the open. It has a few ducks and geese and fishes living in it, too.”

         I inspected the lake again and noticed that she was right.

          “You can’t see it from here, but somewhere at the back, beneath all that leafy foliage, are the badminton, tennis and basketball courts. We have swings and see-saws down there, too.”

          “But how about those horses?” I asked again, curious to know the answer.

          “The brown stallion and white mare are Skye’s,” came Penny’s response. “The chestnut mare is mine – her name’s Cupcake. And that black monster over there – that one’s yours.”

         My mouth fell open as I looked at the tall black stallion. His appearance struck me as nasty looking with his somewhat anti-social stance and borderline hostile demeanor toward the other horses, and the thought that I owned him made my palms twitch and sweat. A lump formed in my throat when I remembered what Penny had called him. “Th-that’s mine? Are you sure?”

          “Th-that’s yours,” answered Penny, tongue in cheek. “I am sure.”

          “B-but I don’t even know how to ride a horse!” I finally blurted out in sudden panic.

         Penny frowned at me. “You sure forgot a lot of things when you’ve been sleeping.”

          “That’s enough, Penny,” snapped Skye. She took me firmly by the arm and led me back to my room while soothing me with her vote of confidence. “Don’t worry, Azure. We have all the time in the world. You can take a refresher course in riding, and I’ll be there rooting for you. You’ll be a natural horsewoman in no time flat.”

         The next stop was the bathroom with shower and toilet attached. This time I was not surprised to find it spacious, covered from floor to ceiling with dark blue Varahah marble with inlaid light gray Mordoccan marble. Light came from the many spotlights which covered the dark blue ceiling, as well as from the long narrow horizontal strip of rose-patterned stained glass window at the top portion of the wall facing the balcony. Like the bedroom, the bathroom also had wall-mounted handgrip rails.

         In the middle of the room and against a wall was the round clam-shaped lavender bathtub sunk deep in the floor, with the polished silver faucet and its lever handles as well as an accompanying hand-shower at feet level.

          “This hydro system has an in-line heater and timer,” explained the technically well-versed Skye. I simply nodded at every punctuation mark-pause as if I understood every single word she said. “You have a grab bar over there, easier for you to get in and out and over here is the digital temperature display. Now this one here is the on/off button, this is the air volume control, suction cover, jets. It can help calm you down by massaging, and the waterfall filler spout has the option to recirculate water. This thing comes equipped with an in-built stereo, too.”

          “OK,” I said with no real understanding of what she had said, and followed her toward the lavender glassed shower enclosure.

          “The door can be opened either from the left or right,” she elaborated. “There’s the showerhead and the hand-shower hose there is 60”. It has four adjustable body sprays with ½” with thermostatic mixer. There’s the volume control valve and diverter. It also has mood lighting options. You can use the shelf there to store things, too. Very handy.”

         Next came the lavender two-piece toilet and I was interested to note that the toilet cover had actual tiny multi-colored seashells covered with transparent hard plastic on its back. It was evidently a toilet with a built-in washlet.

          “Ah,” Skye had added. “But did you know it has a heated seat with temperature control? And the dual water spray comes with a choice of either cold or warm water? The plastics are anti-bacterial, too.”

          “Oh, please,” I whispered into amused Henri’s ear. “This is way too much information for me!”

          “I heard yours flushes automatically, too,” he murmured back, chuckling. “Very state-of-the-art.”

         By now, Skye had finished her guided tour and gestured me to join her back in the bedroom. I passed by the wall-hung frame of wash basin with the transparent blue-tinted glass top, central silver faucet and side towel bars. I had no doubt this one came with a hot/cold water option, too. A ceiling-height shelf built into the granite wall and half-filled with various soaps, common medications, terry towels and robes flanked the basin on both sides. On the bottom were a pull-out laundry hamper and a tilt-out waste can, too. The mirror directly above the basin was also interesting. It was the same width as the basin and was formed in the shape of a pond, with a blue painted seashell border and spotlights illuminating it from the side.

         When I came out, I saw Skye seated on the right-hand corner of my bed, near the headrest. She lifted up the edge of the duvet to expose a control panel attached to the side of the wooden bed. She explained the button functions for me, demonstrating how to control the bedroom lights and temperature, lock and unlock the doors and windows, operate the ceiling-mounted television set which when descended from its storage place atop the ceiling faced the bed directly, switch on the in-built stereo which may be heard through in-built speakers, and even an intercom unit and panic button in case I “needed help in a jiffy.”

          “So now,” she smiled at me. “Welcome home.”

 

 

3) First Night Home

 

         Qit and Ari had already put down my suitcases inside the closet and had inquired whether I needed help unpacking. They even invited me to join them downstairs for some tea, considering that it was already 5 p.m. I politely declined their offers and gave fatigue as my excuse. Besides, I told them the earliest I was going to unpack was more probably tomorrow rather than today.

         While going out the doors with the others, Skye and Henri thoughtfully hung back to assure me that they’d ask for my dinner to be brought up later on. I merely managed to smile gratefully in answer before closing the heavy doors behind their disappearing backs.

         I stretched out on the bed, and was greatly pleased to discover how cool the sheets were, how cozy the comforter was and how soft and fluffy were the many down-feathered pillows. I practiced using the bedside control panel to adjust the room temperature to a more agreeable one and intended to wash my face and change into more comfortable wear but I had already fallen asleep without even finishing the thought, stretched out on the strange brown bed in this strange room, still in my jeans and checkered shirt, one shoe still intact and the other dangling toward the earth from one foot.

         I awoke from my dreamless sleep feeling dizzy, tired and still somewhat unrefreshed. I glanced at the antique clock on the bedside table and discovered that it was close to 10.30 p.m. already. I forced myself to an upright position, slowly prying my sneakers and socks off my feet, then stumbled my way to the bathroom by grabbing the wall rails. There, I helped myself to a refreshing cool bath without using any of the additional facilities the tub may have to offer, using a towel taken from the wall shelf to dry myself and wrapping a terry robe around myself before stepping out of the bathroom.

         I went to the main door and peered out to the corridor. The passage was empty except for the line of lighted wall lamps illuminating the place and a tray consisting of a plate of T-bone steak and fries plus a glass of lemon tea, with a slice of lemon perched on the topside of the glass. I raised it to my lips and discovered it cool to the touch. Most probably it had been iced lemon tea, but the ice had long melted already.

         Straightening up with one hand against the stout door for support and with the tray balanced in one hand, I finally noticed the single stalk of red rose with a note attached to it lying beside the plate. The note read: “Hope this will help you get your spirits back.”

         How sweet, I thought to myself and broke into a smile. Taking the tray inside, I closed the door behind me. With one hand gripping the rail, I made my way toward the study desk and plopped down onto the cushioned seat with the tray on the desk surface. Remembering that I hadn’t eaten anything since the afternoon, I heard my stomach growl and ravenously began to attack the food, finishing it off with the drink and feeling quite full suddenly. It was a superb meal, as all food were when hunger was great.

         I sat on the bed after brushing my teeth, donning on a pair of comfortable cotton pajamas I found hanging in my closet and returning the empty plate and glass on the floor in the corridor outside. I began to wonder who the chef was. Naturally it would have been one of the support staff from the first floor.

         And that was how it started, the questions. The lights were set at dim, and the room was pretty dark when devoid of sunlight, but I didn’t bother changing the setting. I lay there in semi-darkness, my hands grasped under my head as I contemplated the room. What was I doing there? Was this where I belonged? Why wasn’t there even a scrap of memory retained in my head regarding this place?

         I started attacking the choice of colors. Why too many browns and creams and beiges in this room? I felt deep inside of me that the only color I have ever felt truly comfortable with was blue, in all its shades and hues. This strong belief echoed through my very being. It disturbed me that the room, which was supposed to be personally mine and by right should reflect my personality as a mirror would, had been covered mostly in brown. I could understand that choice of wooden floorboards and wooden furniture, I had always realized that my body could never retain its warmth on its own for long. And that, as Penny had reminded me, I wasn’t partial to walking barefoot on cold stone slabs as my ankles tended to swell and my feet ache to the bone. But the ornate (to my standards, that is) decorations? Was it absolutely necessary? I loved beauty, don’t get me wrong; it was just that I’ve always believed myself to be a simple person, and the grandness of the room was, frankly said, making my stomach queasy.


         Being a normally rational human being, I recognized the cause of this dissatisfaction as trivial. I knew it was only a choice of colors and furniture, but the implications were loud enough to upset me. I couldn’t comprehend the thoughts and subsequent actions that could have led to the room being what it was at present. And this disturbed me strongly.

         All of a sudden, my thoughts turned to the horse. As black as night and with a wild arrogant air about him. A monster, Penny had called him. What was its name? I tried racking my brains but couldn’t find an answer. What convinced me to own him? He must have been pretty special for me to select him out of all the horses in the world. Because, I assumed, he was ill tempered and prone to nasty tantrums? Or maybe because I was a masochist who liked having sadistic creatures around – could it be? True, he was a spectacular specimen in his own right, and looked taller and stronger than the rest when I looked down at him from the balcony above. But still, it didn’t make much sense owning a horse which you couldn’t control and perhaps could not even ride.


         Speaking of which, did I ever really learn how to ride a horse? And how to play the piano and be able to read sheet music? Just how many skills or talent did I possess previously which I may have to re-learn now? I was astounded and dismayed by these ideas, sharply reminded by how hard it had been initially to re-learn even basic things when I was hospitalized, like how to walk and talk. An artistic talent may be added to the list, I thought as well, taking in the unfinished painting on the easel and books filled with self-scrawled tales on the shelf. I didn’t feel I could paint or write. I didn’t feel I could ride a horse, too – heck, how could I muster up enough courage just to get close to the black stallion? And as for my musical talent, I didn’t even understand the sheet music when I held them right in front of my nose – they were mere gibberish symbols to me, more like a foreign language’s script. Bearing this in mind, how could I actually play the piano? Hey, maybe I could play by ear, I reasoned. Yeah, maybe that’s it. That skill doesn’t need musical literacy.

         From there, my thoughts shifted to the Gang. What had brought us close together? Henri had told me that all of us, other than him, were orphans. Was that the reason? We kept close because we had become used to treating each other as family? And were the others really and sincerely as close to me as the image they projected to me? Why were we living together, and in such a big complex, too? Why did we call our home our headquarters? Was that an inside joke or something closer to reality? I remembered the reception area and the fact that not one support staff had I seen when I arrived, except perhaps for Ms. Sandra.

         Thinking about the gang made me realize that they all made a good-looking group in their own right. Well, except perhaps for somewhat plain and lanky Henri Lait. I admit I personally found his countenance pleasing to my eyes, and his humble and easy ways charming and agreeable, but there was no denying it – he was unfortunate compared to the rest when it came to the looks department.

         When I contemplated it, I decided that we were all a close bunch, although sometimes Henri gave the impression that he didn’t really belong or feel comfortable with the group, and vice versa. When asked, Henri had explained that was because he had only joined the gang a few years back and sometimes had trouble understanding the others, especially when they cracked personal inside jokes or talked about things that happened before his arrival. They never did it intentionally to exclude him, nevertheless it still hurt him and made him feel left out.

         When I heard him say that, I felt really sorry for him and felt we shared a common kinship. Like him, I too often felt left out when the others inconsiderately forgot about my amnesia and talked about old times or made inside jokes they thought I might understand, but which in actuality I did not.

         To me, Henri was the one I liked best and felt most comfortable with for no actual reason. Sometimes when he came to visit me in the hospital with the others, I couldn’t wait for the others to leave us alone. Because the only time he really became himself was only when the two of us were left in the room, opening up to me, telling me stories and chatting about stuff he would never have brought up in the others’ presence.

         I recalled his mousy disheveled mop, with his long ultra-light hair constantly getting into his eyes, and his innocent washed-out blue eyes with the golden flecks. While the others were the same age as I was, he was two years older and his height, only an inch or two taller than me, made him the most vertically-challenged guy in the group.

         Compared to the other blond guy in the pack, Quraini Harqis, Henri’s looks seemed pale and apt to fade into the wallpaper, whereas Que’s were loud and, I don’t know, the word ‘flashy’ came to mind. Perhaps it was due to their different personalities – Henri was the more quiet and careful type, taking his time to think out his thoughts properly before slowly mouthing them into words, while Que seemed well aware of his roguish good looks and appeared to flaunt it through his provocative, mischievously-amusing and impulsive manner.

         Aside from the two, the only blond one left was a female and the only Caucasian in the gang – Penelope Gage. Standing at 5’ 8”, she was easily the tallest female, too. Heck, she was even taller than poor loveable Hen. With her long beige light hair coming down to her waist – most often than not tied up simply in a ponytail – and her slightly freckled face and wide baby blue eyes, she often reminded me of an adorable doll. Being a sharp dresser didn’t hurt, things, either. I often noticed male aides and doctors gawking at her whenever she took me for a ride on my wheelchair in the hospital grounds. But Penny could sometimes be biting and callous at times, especially when she was with me. I still hadn’t figured out whether she was like this by nature or because she disliked me at some level.

         The two other boys in the group – Qitler Harqis and Chief Arealrealac – both had dark brown hair. They were both somewhat serious in their demeanors, though their ways differed to some extent.

         Qitler with his cream-colored skin, dark coffee hair and clear hazel eyes struck me as a deliberate and methodical person. He seemed to prefer to let others take the limelight, but even when he chose to merely stay in the background, the average person would still automatically single him out. Because that was just the kind of person he was – somebody you couldn’t ignore, who let his presence be felt even in the darkest of nights and deepest of silence. Not very good at making conversation, at least not with me, he seemed grave in a bookish fashion and somewhat aloof at times. And being slightly muscular and tall, he was not any less attractive compared to his twin.

         Henri, the constant source of vital information, had told me the twins’ tragic story: how they had been separated at birth, due to a family feud at the time which resulted in the murder of their parents. As a consequence, Qit was allowed to stay in the Harqis regal family home and was raised in a rigid manner, cultivating many skills from traditional swordplay to historical literature.

         On the other hand, the younger Que, previously destined to join his parents’ fate, had been rescued by a caring hermit and raised in the wilds, which explained why he seemed like a carefree, open and outdoorsy type of person. It had been a long tale, with most of the Harqis family wiped out by the time Qit was 12. That had been one of the reasons why he had lost all royalty privileges, especially after the grudging self-professed revolutionists sieged, ransacked and burned down his home. When circumstances brought the two brothers together at age 13, they didn’t realize they were twins. In fact, they didn’t get along well with one another at first.

         At that moment, I had asked Henri the reason for the hostility between the Harqis twins. He seemed to hesitate before replying that at the time, both of them had been interested in Skye. When I heard this gem, I immediately burst out in a giggling fit. I wasn't sure exactly why back then, but this piece of news, even though an eye-opener to our intra-gang relationships, tickled me.

         I must have ticked Henri off with my laughter for he refused to continue telling me the story afterward. In the end I had to figure out the ending myself from bits and pieces of conversation strung together to make a pattern: that Skye had chosen Qit in the end, but they had broken up not long afterward; and that the relationship between the twins improved over the years they spent together in Cock-a-Doodle Mansion.

         Story over, let us now continue with Arealrealac Moorloch, a name Melizianised due to difference in language meanings. Ari was big and muscular with skin tanner than the rest. As was the trait among his clan, he had Thanish dark looks, with thick eyebrows, brown hair so dark it was almost black, and brooding chestnut eyes.

         According to Henri, he had been a radical Underground leader during his teens and before his group was disbanded, after which he chose to surface and dwell above-ground. His background lent sense to his personality: his leadership abilities were apparent, his steps were sure and his presence was commanding. He was often barking out orders but the others did not seem to mind as he was not bossy, and more than once I had found his advice insightful and perceptive. Even though serious, there was still a caring and playfully relaxed side to him which he often showed when in the company of close friends.

         And finally, my thoughts moved to Skye. As I had overheard Qit commenting before, if there was ever any perfect woman who walked the earth, then it would have to be her. With silky midnight-blue hair which came down half-way down her back and doe eyes which turned coal black or mahogany brown depending on what time of day it was, she was easily the singularly most attractive member of our pack. Her light tan skin was smooth as porcelain and there had not been a single time when I was with her that I did not see at least one man, other than the gang’s male members, straining his neck to get a second or a better look at her.

         Sometimes her perfection perplexed me, sometimes it exasperated me. She never seemed to get wet when it drizzled, or her clothes never had any accidental stains or creases on them. While everyone turned out looking wild after being out on a windy day, her hair would amazingly still be immaculate, her articles of clothing all appropriately in place.

         Que had once also told me that she was the most intelligent one among us, with an I.Q. of 200. Bearing this in mind, it was no wonder how good her problem-solving skills were, for she always seemed to know the answer to any question and nothing seemed to ruffle her.

         At one time, Penny had even confided in me that she would prefer not to go with Skye when attending a function or party. I mean, which woman would enjoy having all the men ogling at your friend and totally ignoring you instead? Or worse, think that you are clumsy, dumb and ugly compared to your friend just because she happens to be far more elegant, beauteous and entertaining than you could ever hope to be?

         Other than that, she was naturally a born leader, and even Ari tended to follow her directions without giving it much thought, being used already to such ways. She was shrewd and honest to a fault. And multi-talented, too; just how multi, I wasn’t too sure. Poor Penny. I knew she genuinely liked Skye, but the former could never completely hide her resentment toward the latter from me. It must have been tough competing against and residing in the same house as such a gal.

         In fact Skye sometimes seemed to belong to a whole new species altogether. An alien breed, more likely. I have often wondered what the others saw in me when they claimed that Skye and I resembled each other closely that strangers could have thought we were twins. After all, I’ve never thought of myself as being beautiful and surely I was far from being perfect.

         Nevertheless, I admitted that we had the same body type. Naturally though, after my long hospitalization, I was skinnier than she was, and while her baby fine hair reached somewhere below her shoulders and curled beautifully at the ends, my hair which doctors had previously shaved for an operation was just beginning to grow at a snail’s pace, giving me a tomboyish appearance.

         In fact, I recalled the time when I had inquired whether there was a possibility of Skye and me actually being twins separated at birth, same as Qit and Que. After all, we did have similar looks and traits, and names each representing a similar shade of blue. And besides, Skye’s birth name had been Azura, very much similar to my own name. Que, who had been sitting beside me, had laughed and put down the novel he had been reading out to me. He assured me that unlike him and his brother, Skye at least had clear recollections of her parents when she was growing up, and was positive she had been a twin-less child. Besides, my name wasn’t really my birth name; volunteers who helped me when I left my war-torn hometown had given it.

         There had been many times when I wondered why Skye was clearly the most protective toward me. Was it because she viewed me as weak and in need of protection? Was it because of our physical similarities that caused feelings of responsibility as if toward one’s sibling surface?

         I also speculated the possible combination of events which could have awarded her ownership of such an immense mansion. Nobody in his right mind would have simply passed over the deeds to a mere 12-year old kid. I suspect there was a long and winding tale attached to this mystery. And in fact, why were there so many tests carried out just to gain entry into the mansion? Was there any criteria in order to reside there? I somehow wasn’t under the impression that just any Tom, Dick or Harry could gain an entry into this fairly prestigious residence. And why would we want to stay there in the first place? Could it be that we had been cast off, alone and abandoned with nowhere else to go to? Perhaps Cock-a-Doodle Mansion had seemed like a last resort to us. Perhaps.

         And how the heck could I have possibly had the means to be able to purchase properties and sustain an undoubtedly high-maintenance horse, too? What had been my occupation, for I seemed to have been wealthy enough to be able to afford all these expensive niceties? In fact, I was curious to find out what the others did for a living, too.

         These, and other thoughts too intangible to grasp and hold in my mind for long, went through my head. I did not fall into an exhausted sleep until some time after 3 a.m.

 

 

4) First Night’s Dream

 

         I was awakened rudely, not long after drifting into slumber, by sharp resounding slaps across the face. I awoke with a surprised splutter, and slowly my eyes began to focus. I was more than surprised to discover Skye sitting astride me, shaking my shoulders hard, and what appeared to me as an intensely disturbed look on her face. Seeing that I had come to my senses, she let go of me and allowed me to sit up slowly.

         I had to shake my head a few times to chase away the remnants of sleep still clinging heavily to my droopy eyelids, while Skye carefully shifted her position so that she was sitting instead next to me on the bed. Gradually, I began to discern the presence of others standing all around. After several seconds and some effort on my part, I was able to take in the fear reflected in Penny’s eyes, the concerned expression on Que and Henri, as well as looks of dismay and consternation on Ari and Qit.

          “Wh-what happened?” I asked woozily, my lips feeling numb and the skin on my cheeks still stinging with pain. I heard Penny sigh with relief.

          “You must have had the intercom switched on,” she explained in a rush, wheezing slightly as if out of breath. “And pressed the panic button, too. All of us heard this,” here she gave a brief shiver, ”I don’t know, other-worldly bloodcurdling scream, and we all jumped out of bed in a jiff and rushed here.”

         At the same time, Que was patting my hand coolly and saying comfortingly, “It’s OK, you know. We’re here beside you.” As if I wasn’t aware of that.

         At the same moment, Skye was grabbing me by the shoulder and asking insistently, “What was it? Tell me, was it a dream? You must tell me, it’s imperative for you to do so.”

          “Dream?” I asked her back, slowly and listlessly, rubbing my throbbing cheeks. “I don’t remember any dream. Why did you have to hit me so hard?”

          “You must have been dreaming,” Penny decided. “Why else would you be trying to choke the life out of Skye?”

          “What?” I asked back incredulously, only then taking in the red welts around Skye’s neck. “Did I really do that?” The others were silent on this one. Stifling a yawn, I decided to try asking something else. ”I wonder what time it is now?” I glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and saw that it was 5 a.m. At first I thought I was able to read the clock’s hands because they had been painted in luminescent paint, but then I realized the room was bathed in strong light, with all the lamps in the room switched on to the maximum.

          “Qit,” Skye turned to look at the one directly beside her and asked in a soft voice, ”Could you kindly go downstairs and get her some honeyed drink, please?”

         Qit hesitated for a mere second before nodding and hurrying out the door. He came back shortly with the requested beverage, which Skye coaxed me to drink, propping me up to a straighter sitting position. I languidly brought the glass up to my lips and took slow sips.

          “How do you feel now?” she inquired as I handed back the empty glass to her. Only then did I notice her hands trembling slightly. “Better?”

          “OK, I guess,” I replied, wondering why they seemed gravely concerned over nothing. “Am I supposed to feel any different or something? I just feel slightly lethargic, that’s all.”

         I saw them exchanging worried looks, and this made me worry, too. Finally, Skye threw her arms around a surprised me, and it struck me that she did this more out of the need to comfort herself rather than to comfort me.

          “Henri,” this time she turned to speak to Henri. “Somehow I don’t think we should leave her alone till dawn. What do you think?”

         The ends of his lips curved upward in a slow smile as he answered, “I’ll stay here and keep her company, if that’s what you want. I promise I won’t allow her to go back to sleep.”

          “What do you mean – you won’t allow me to sleep?” I retorted indignantly. “Do you know what time it is? Do you realize I’ve only slept for two hours?” Despite me fuming there, Skye reached over and planted a soft kiss on my slowly cooling cheek.


          “Nobody wants to have their beauty sleep destroyed twice because of your screams and shrieks,” joked Henri with folded arms.

          “For the last time, I did not scream! I did not shriek!” I yelled back at him. Henri merely chuckled and scoffed at me, and I pretended to grab a pillow to throw at him while Skye laughed out, her sweet ringing laughter dissipating any residual feelings of fear and anxiety still left all around the room.

         She walked around to the other side of the bed and began to determinedly steer a reluctant Que toward the door. “C’mon, guys,” she called out to the others to follow her and Que’s lead. “Let’s give her some breathing space, shall we? It’s hard enough contending with memories triggered by familiar surroundings. Let’s not make her adjustment even more difficult.” And with that, she was gone, the others with her. I was surprised that when Qit gently closed the door behind him, they had all left Henri behind.

 

 

5) The Revelation

 

         Even now as I sat there watching him in silence, he was striding toward the windows and throwing the curtains aside and flinging the windows open.

          “Just letting some fresh air come in,” he explained, sauntering up to me with an apologetic smile. True, there was a damp pre-dawn breeze breathing in gently, bringing with it the mixture of night and early morning sounds of crickets, chirping birds and rustling leaves.

          “Just out of curiosity,” I asked, somewhat cautiously. “Why did the others go?”

          “You mean,” re-phrased Henri. “Why did the others leave us here alone? Is that what you mean?”

         I merely stared at him in answer, not sure whether I should nod my head at his candidness.

          “Relax,” he sighed, then gave me a sincere and kind smile. “There’s no need to worry. I guess you must have forgotten – the others are used to it by now, leaving us like this. Before you went and hit your head, we were best pals, you know.”

          “B-best pals?” I stammered, revealing that I had indeed no recollection of the exact nature of our relationship.

          “The bestest of friends,” he acknowledged, taking hold of my right hand and giving it a slight kiss.

         For a few moments there was complete silence between us, with me staring off into space, my thoughts still muddled, still attempting to digest the information he had just given, and with him straining to pull the king bench to my side, finally plopping down on it while puffing and heaving away. At first I didn’t feel much like talking, preferring instead to fall back onto the plump pillow with hands grasped at the back of my head, staring up at the ceiling, letting my thoughts drift. But feeling his intense scrutiny boring into me, I had to abandon my mental wanderings and return his gaze. We spent a few moments like that, him challenging me with his slight frown, and I him with my stare.

         He finally broke the ice by abruptly standing up and reaching for my temples. I automatically jumped and shot my arms up to shield my head in defensive reflex.

          “Hey, now,” he told me exasperatedly. “I just wanted to massage your temples for a while. Thought it’d help de-stress you.”

          “Oh,” I said, lowering my arms, feeling suddenly foolish, unable to fathom the reason for my naturally defensive gesture just now.

          “What were you thinking?” Henri scolded me, his fingertips meeting my temples and beginning to massage in a circular motion. “Did you actually think I was going to hurt you or something?”

         I shut my eyes and ignored his question, letting his hand do its magic. His cool dextrous fingers calmed and soothed the incessant throbbing in my temples.

          “I have something to admit,” he finally said. I opened my eyes wide, suddenly aware that I had been on the verge of dozing off. “I meant to find out about your dream. Please, Azure, try to remember now that you’re in a calmer state of mind. Skye wasn’t exaggerating: your health and state of mind is very important to us. Please.”

         I looked into his imploring eyes and couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. “Oh, OK,” I said, humoring him. “If it’s so vital to you.” I didn’t truly understand the urgency of the matter but was willing to attempt it. I didn’t feel like disappointing him. I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to remember. Was I really dreaming? If yes, what had it been?

          “I remember … ”I began, then faltered, my eyebrows knotted with effort while I tried my best to recall the details. “Darkness.” I shook my head. “That’s all.”

          “Please, Azure,” Henri insisted, and I was suddenly aware that he was sitting by my side on the bed. “Try harder.”

          “I already did,” I retorted. “Don’t you believe me?”

          “Of course I do,” he cooed. His eyes had a strange gleam in it. All of a sudden I had a feeling he, as well as the others, knew something about me that they were not letting on. “It’s just that I believe there is more to it than just plain darkness.”

          “You’re right,” I finally sighed resignedly. “I’ll give it another shot.” I shut my eyes and tried to concentrate, but nothing came to mind. I opened my eyes and shrugged. “Sorry, Hen. I just can’t.”

          “Well, have it your way, then,” he said, stifling a yawn. Evidently, he was as sleepy as I was but was fighting hard not to show it. He stood up and gave himself a good stretch. “Look, I’ve gotta go take a leak. You’re gonna be OK?”

         I nodded tiredly, a little amused at his blunt choice of words, and he scampered off toward the toilet. With him gone, I closed my eyes again, trying harder to remember. There was darkness, that was how it started, I recalled. Not just any sort of darkness, it was eternal and menacing, and solid as if it was a ravenous being freed after aeons of imprisonment, and you could just imagine its unholy desire to pounce on you and devour you whole …

          “Azure,” a gentle voice made the memory dissipate. “Wake up, Azure.”

         I awoke in a stupor, with Henri’s hands on my shoulders, lightly shaking me. “Hen,” I managed to rasp. “What happened?”

          “I leave you for a moment and this is what happens,” he nagged good-naturedly, but his countenance could not disguise his concern.

          “B-but what actually happened?” I asked, slowly sitting up. “I - I don’t remember.”

          “Figures,” he groaned, rolling his eyes. Then he peered deep into my eyes, as if searching for something, his face intense. “I hope you understand now why the others left you in my care.”

          “No,” I shot back. “I don’t understand.”

          “Well, I’ll try my very best to explain, then,” promised Henri. “When I came back, I found you deep asleep. How did I know that? Well, your usual heavy snoring and deep breathing was hard not to notice. But despite that, you also seemed to be reciting some archaic Veleri verses that frankly made my skin crawl. Look.” He showed me his right arm and I could see the hairs standing on end. Noticing my frightened look, he typically tried to lighten things up with a bad but well-meaning joke. “I think if I hadn’t woken you up in time, you might have probably succumbed to that bloodcurdling scream you demonstrated earlier on tonight.”

          “But what are Vele-what verses?” I asked back, panic rising in my eyes. I didn’t like this one bit. Nope, I didn’t like this at all.

          “Oh, Azure,” he gave a deep sigh and hung his head down with arms held straight and hands clasped in front of him, as if trying to make up his mind about something. Finally he looked up and there was a set look on his face. “Look, the others aren’t gonna like it that I’ve told you this, but it’s high time you knew.” Slowly, he pulled up his left sleeve and exposed flesh with scrawls that first appeared to be made by a dagger. Upon closer inspection, it seemed more like an intricate pattern and was ornate, detailed and light brown in color. I couldn’t make head or tail of it.

          “What’s that supposed to be?” I asked curiously.

          “This,” he answered patiently, “means that I am the official person in charge of everything light around here.”

          “Light?” I asked back. “As in ‘feather-light’? As in ‘sunlight’? As in Henri Lait?”

          “The second one rings closest to the truth,” he answered. “Although I have to add that my family name having a similar sound seems to be more coincidental than not.”

          “But what does it all mean?” I implored. “Please tell me, Hen.”

          “It’s like this,” he started, then paused for a while as if remembering something. “A long time ago, there had been a global committee made up mostly of Vieran and Kieran monks. The committee was set up with the good intention of governing over tedious global issues. But things increasingly got out of hand, and in the end they decided to nominate two persons, where one should undertake the jurisdiction of light, and the other, darkness.”

          “As in the fight of light and darkness,” I intoned wisely.

          “Exactly,” replied Henri. “At first, the two nominees were good friends. You have to understand that being a master of darkness doesn’t necessarily mean the person is evil, and vice versa. But as my mother often said, the path to hell is paved with good intentions. In the end, the Dark Guy was swayed by the compelling dark side, and that was how the battle of good versus evil started. And that also was how the cycle stayed, until now. Veleri verses are used to contain or to summon evil.

          “Azure,” murmured Henri quietly. “You’ve got to know that we are now the current modern-day bearers of such practices.”

          “Huh?” My head was spinning. “What do you mean?” He pointed toward my left shoulder and gestured that I should do the same as he did before. Slowly I pushed my sleeve up and peered at my shoulder the best I could without dislocating my neck. I determined there was nothing there on the skin – if that was the motive of this exercise – and looked up in surprise at Henri’s stumped look as he sat down dazedly on the bench.

          “I should’ve checked sooner,” he was mumbling. “We all assumed everything would be all right, we just never imagined it’d be this way.”

          “What is it?” I asked worriedly. “Were you expecting a similar tattoo on my shoulder or something?”

          “Yes,” he said, forehead wrinkled with apprehension. He jumped to his feet and began to pace the floor– to and fro, to and fro. “It had always been there before.”

          “Perhaps it had been removed,” I voiced out my opinion.

          “Evidently,” he determined. “But it’s more likely to have reverted to an invisible state. If it were forcefully removed from you in its entirety, a new bearer would have been chosen, and I’d have known about it. That’s how the system works.”

          “Wait a minute,” I said, my brain finally catching up. “Are you hinting that I am the Bearer of Darkness?”

         He stopped his pacing to look at me and said calmly, “I’m not hinting – I’m telling you.”

         It was like time stood still for a while there – I swear. I kept gaping at him like a goldfish, all the time reaching out for help, and a lot of things clicked into place all at once. I remembered the dream – walking alone in a landscape of wide open space, more like a desert or a plain, alone in the darkness, alone in the night. I was traveling, my forgotten destination blazing like a fire in my mind, a sharp weapon in my hand ready to be used either for defense or offense.

         But something came hurtling out of the stillness and darkness of the night. Its dark shape loomed over me and overpowered me. The searing pain, the cuts and bruises, opened gashes and bleeding wounds, scalded skin and torn tissues, all came back to me with singular clarity and was abruptly washed away in a flood of red-tinged memory of years gone by, of steps taken and retraced, of mistakes done and regretted. In the dream, I had my past back in the palm of both hands, and my future, clear as the sky on an unclouded day, was a straight trail in front of me. In the dream I knew who I was, my purpose for being there and where my destiny would lead me.

         Even in the dream, I could feel hot tears slide down my cheeks onto the pillow, I could feel my body toss and turn as the pain inflicted upon me increased in volume, until I felt that I had screamed Enough! Enough! at the top of my lungs until my voice was hoarse, though I knew in actual life no audible words escaped my sleeping mouth.

         In the end, fatigued and exhausted, I fought no more but let the darkness envelop me in a cold, final embrace, in whose arms I knew I’d never set eyes on the radiant rays of the sun again. As I begun to lose consciousness, a feeling of dread crept inside, turning me numb and void of feelings. I was given new eyes with which to view the world in a kaleidoscope of bleakness and icy wintry night. I was aware of the shift in my future, and where the trail was sunny, clear and straight before, the pathway was now obscure, long and winding with a myriad of dark heavy clouds accentuating the way. But the final destination where the path led to was clear to the eyes: the edge of a precipice that promised eternal suffering and somewhat absolute damnation of the self, spirit and body.

         It wasn’t life being offered to me. It was the promise of imminent death. I let out a scream of anguish, of hopes dashed against rocks under the precipice below, of golden opportunities wasted and taken away, of the being I had been forced to become. There had been no way out, there would never be any way out. The scream reverberated through my brain and that was when I had woken up to see Skye’s ashen white face.

          “That was it?” Henri asked, seeking confirmation. He passed me a terry towel he had taken from the bathroom drawers. I took it, suddenly aware that I was drenched in perspiration.

          “More or less,” I replied, wiping my face with the towel. “Yeah.”

          “Do you understand it?” there was deliberation in his voice.

          “Well,” I attempted to answer, trying to recall fragments of memories. “I did, in the dream. But now that I’m awake, I’ve forgotten.”

          “It was who you were,” clarified Henri with no tinge of surprise in his voice. “Who you once were before you became the Dark Overlord.”

          “Is that my official designation?” I asked interestedly.

         He stared at me before replying, “No, but it’s what some parties term you. Your official designation where such things are concerned is the Bearer of Darkness.”

          “Doesn’t sound catchy, does it?” I asked cheekily, slowly feeling the lethargy melt away with every passing moment. “Why not Princess of Darkness? That one sounds sexier.”
         ”Well,” Henri seemed to think the matter over. “People do sometimes refer to you as that. But you have to bear in mind that the Bearer of Darkness is the historically and politically correct term by which to address one such as you. That has been the practice for centuries.”

          “So does that make you the Bearer of Light then?” I questioned him back.

          “It does,” he responded.

          “And, what do I do?” I inquired. “Do I answer to anybody?”

          “Well,” he began, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Theoretically, we both answer to the inner circle of the Global Committee. Who it consists of, even I’m not sure. But since we’re both official global Fighters, and answer to the same Global Committee anyway, it doesn’t really matter much. To me, the inner and outer circles are one and the same.”

          “Whoa,” I yelled, surprised. “What do you mean, we’re Fighters?”

          “Well, how do you think we could afford all these simple luxuries, huh?” he asked back in a cross voice, though sympathy burnished in his somewhat turquoise-colored eyes. “Granted, this mansion and piece of land fell plop onto Skye’s lap, and most expenses of running this place comes from allowances the government has bequest upon us, but how do you justify your possessions? Don’t you ever wonder how you supported yourself?”

          “You know,” I answered enthusiastically. “That was the exact same question I had meant to ask you. So, just what is it do we do for a living?”

          “I told you,” Henri answered exasperatedly. “We are all Fighters. Yes, all of us – Skye, Penny, Que, Qit and Ari, too. But you – you’ve been put on medical leave until at least another fortnight. That’s one of the reasons why we had to put you in a semi-government hospital, with all the lousy service and staff. Because our superiors requested specifically for your medical leave certificate to be issued by a government hospital, you see. Thank goodness the room you got at least wasn’t so bad. Well, anyway, being Fighters and having our base here in Melize technically makes us Melizian government servants. Even though some of us weren’t born here, we automatically received Melizian nationality once we entered the Fighter program. Though, from time to time, we’re given overseas assignments that require us to be under the jurisdiction of other countries, too.”

          “How much exactly are we paid?” I asked hopefully, eyes shining bright.

          “Well, being government servants, we’re not paid all that much,” he said, noticing my crestfallen face. “But we usually make quite a tidy sum from the insurance, perks and rewards. In fact, most of us had gotten into the habit of investing in more stable and beneficial assets like property and such, so there’s never the fear of going broke.”

          “But how much exactly?” I insisted.

          “For someone fresh out of hospital, you sure ask a lot of questions,” he laughed, giving me a light playful punch on the arm. “But seriously, I can’t say for sure. All of us are paid differently, depending on seniority and capability. Besides, amount of rewards given for every assignment differs greatly, too, depending on your suitability to the task given and the difficulty level of the task.”

          “So who’s the senior?” I asked, a guess already forming in my mind.

          “Well,” Henri thought it over before answering. “That’d be Skye. She was the first to be discovered and the first member of the Fighters.” I had thought so, noticing how the others seemed used to follow her directions like clockwork. “The next one would be Qit, then Que, then Penny and Ari.”

          “How about me and you?” I inquired.

          “Well, you arrived here at the mansion after Ari did, I think. And some time later, you dragged me in,” he gave me a kind smile. “I was serving at the Ministry of Defense, in charge of administration, when you walked in one day and we struck up our friendship. Later on, when Skye stepped down and handed over the Bearer of Light duties to me, you practically forced me to ask for a transfer to join you and the others in the Mansion, and the job was clinched.”

          “Wait a minute,” I remarked, surprised. “Slow down, slow down. Do you mean to say that Skye, my ‘twin’ Skye, was the Bearer of Light before you?”

          “Yes,” he seemed amazed that I didn’t know this. “Didn’t I mention it to you before?”

          “You dodo!” I screamed at him and jestingly flung a pillow which he caught neatly in both hands. “You never even mentioned my career while I was in the hospital! What gives you the idea that you had told me about Skye being Bearer of Light?”

          “OK, sorry for overlooking that,” he apologized. “Yes, your ‘twin’ Skye was my predecessor.”

          “When did this happen?” I asked again.

          “Which part?” he questioned back. “Oh – you mean, all of it. Well, Skye had been having difficulties right about the time you went into darkness – hush, now, let me finish my tale first … ”

 

 

6) Henri Answers Some Interesting Questions

 

         It seemed that Skye had come to live in Cock-a-Doodle Mansion at the tender age of 12. An orphan since 8, she had the highest average score in a nation-wide school Compulsory Test which among other things analyzed the child’s intellectual and psychological profile and whose sole purpose was to identify and select a special few for the newly-formed Fighter Group Program, also known as the FGP. She was at the time the only one selected for training as a Fighter and had some mixed feelings about leaving the orphanage and her old friends for the wondrous Cock-a-Doodle Mansion, then named Marcox Mansion.

         The mansion had actually belonged to a white-haired elderly gentleman known by the name of Dr. Marcox. Being head of the FGP, he was a kind old man and had donated his mansion and its grounds to be used as the future headquarters of those who would be called the Fighters.

         In the mansion, Skye, as the others after her, was trained in many areas. Her Bearer of Light powers, given to her at birth, was discovered and her status recognized. She studied a variety of subjects from archery to swimming, defense training to gymnastics, diplomacy to politics, mastering eight main international languages to learning Physics and Mathematics. Being a quick learner, she naturally excelled in almost everything taught to her.

         Skye had never been openly verbal about it, but there had been enough evidence to point that the good doctor and benefactor had, er, liked his prized student a little too much, more perhaps than in the professional sense. It was at about this time also that Qit made his appearance at the mansion. He had been from neighboring war-torn Heredelich and being of the Harqis royal blood, he had escaped almost inevitable death and had sought refuge in Melize. When Heredelich finally fell to the opportunistic Soulfan empire, Harqis who had passed the Compulsory Test with excellent results, was given refuge in Cock-a-Doodle Mansion.

         It had been troubling times. At first, Qit had serious problems fitting in and his clashes with Skye had been more war-like than battle-like. But little by little, Skye won him over as comrade and companion, and he finally opened up enough to trust and even like her.

         Yet, peace in the mansion was not for long, because there were only few things you could hide from occupants of the same residence. When Qit found out that the kind Dr. Marcox was only a facade and that the latter’s personal agenda included controlling Skye to attend to his every whim and fancy, all hell went loose. There had been a confrontation, and then a scuffle, during which process Dr. Marcox fell off the second-floor landing onto the ground floor below and broke his neck. During the disagreement, too, a fire mysteriously broke out and burned the mansion down.

         The cause of the fire was never determined, and the government did its best to hush things up. Qit was never reprimanded for his role in the fight because several support employees testified as witnesses and determined that they had seen the doctor fall to his doom on his own accord. Once the autopsy was done on Dr. Marcox’s charred remains and it was concluded that his cause of death was a broken neck and that his death was deemed accidental, even Qit’s staunchest accusers kept silent and conveniently forgot their accusations.

         Dr. Marcox had also had his will and testament prepared prior to that. Upon his death, it was discovered that he had given full ownership of the place and everything that came with it to Skye. The news shocked Qit and shattered Skye who had been planning to run and escape the shadow of the doctor. With Dr. Marcox’s demise, both were considered wards of the state until the legal age of 18 and were allowed to stay in the mansion grounds.

         The two, plus a handful of butlers, cooks, maids, assistants, chauffeurs and security officers, had to make do with living in the outdoors for a while. The womenfolk stayed in makeshift rooms in the huge car garage using hung bed sheets as walls while the men opted to live in tents salvaged from the old mansion. All this happened while construction, using the government’s allocated funds, of the new mansion building was carried out. It was about then, too, that Que made his first appearance.

         He had approached a village clinic near the Heredelich-Melize border to seek help for his ailing ‘father’. By the time he had led the village doctor to the cave deep in the jungle where his old and feeble ‘father’ had brought him up, it was already too late. The man had passed away peacefully in his sleep due to natural causes. Heartbroken Que was then sent to live in the village orphanage. Upon passing the Compulsory Test with flying colors, he was quickly whisked off to the Fighters’ headquarters in Kismet Kesuma.

         He once told me how, when he arrived, it was raining heavily. He had been soaked right to the skin, a torn knapsack flung over one bony shoulder bearing all the possessions he had left in this world. Upon reaching the front door, alone and shivering in the cold, he received a warm welcome from the hospitable hostess Skye and the haughty cold-shoulder treatment by the sullen Qit, who grew even more irritable once he found out he was going to share his two-man tent with Que.

         The awkward arrangement fortunately was not fixed for long. Once the first phase of the building was completed about two weeks later, and upon the government’s request, Skye had given the mansion its funny name, then they all happily moved in to live in their individual rooms.

         It seemed that perceptive Skye had sensed some kind of kinship between Qit and Que way before they discovered it themselves because during those days, she had gone all out in trying to reconcile the two and bring them closer together. But the truce between the two twins was never long as Qit always flew into a rage whenever he saw Skye being nice to Que and vice versa. In the end, Skye had to contend with the difficult task of having both Qit and Que around while ensuring that both received equal attention and that she was never caught with only one of them by her side. This managed to make the rivalry less pronounced.

         By this time, Que had found out that his family name was Harqis, same as Qit’s. But somehow, the two never thought much of it. Que had been brought up answering only to the name Que, and that was it. His ‘father’ had perhaps wanted to protect and spare him further pain by neglecting to tell him his true parentage. It was the police who found out this little piece of information when they rummaged through the old hermit’s belongings which Que himself, if left on his own, would never have dreamed of touching.

         Later on, when the government had requested them to undergo DNA testing, among other things, and the twins’ familial relationship was evident, the news did not come as a shocking revelation, except perhaps to Qit and Que themselves. The precise tests done also indicated that Qit was older than Que by about half an hour, and it was the ultimate necessary ingredient to open the twins’ eyes and allow them to reconcile their past and slowly but surely form a close bond.

         Penny, on the other hand, had been an orphan for as long as she could remember. She lived with her uncle, an internationally-famous investigator who was only known as G. Even Penny herself was reluctant to mention her real family name, preferring instead to go by the name of Penelope G. Even to this day, she would go visit her favorite uncle whenever he was home and whenever she was free. He, in turn, would also return the favor by dropping by during his spare time. The other three, not having uncles of their own, often treated Uncle G. as if he was their uncle, too, and the kind bachelor investigator never seemed to mind.

         Penny had excellent results for her Compulsory Test, and had been shortlisted to join the FGP that January when she turned 13. Her arrival in the Mansion was like a breath of fresh air to Skye, who so far had no girl her age to talk to. Besides, the twins, who did not have other suitable female counterparts to lavish their attention on, had often doted on her to the point of suffocation. So it made things easier for her when pretty and flirtatious Penny joined the gang and helped ease her burden of having to contend with the early-adolescent boys constantly vying for her attention. In short time, Skye and Penny had become inseparable.

         Not long afterward, Ari had been reprimanded by the police and sent to a school for juvenile offenders. He …

          “But, wait!” I had cried out, halting Henri’s narration. “I remember now! Ari didn’t come and join us back then – he only joined us when we were about 16 or so! It was I who came and joined them back then.”

          “So, do you remember how it was back then?” Henri had excitedly asked while I nodded in affirmation.

          “Bits and pieces, though,” I elaborated. “A little obscure here and there. But otherwise, I’m fine.”

          So I told him what I remembered: I was 13 years old, same as the others back then. It had been a glorious sunny day back then when I was sent to Cock-a-Doodle Mansion, much like the day I left the hospital.

         Earlier on, there had been an ethnic cleansing back in my backwoods town of Kirare Lipure, East Banks, in the southern provinces of the Mucia Pasifika region. When I arrived at the temporary refugee camp near the Melizian borders and about three-day’s journey-by-foot away, the volunteers found me swooning about and took me inside the multipurpose hall to attend to medically. They discovered me fatigued and dehydrated, dazed and confused, similar to when I had awoken from my coma in the hospital.

         I wasn’t able to supply much information, didn’t know my own name even, and they were the ones who gave me the name Azure Blue, due to the dress I was wearing. They determined that I was an Eastern Kili girl in her early teens and that I had blocked out my memory due to some enigmatic trauma. Though injured, no evidence of sexual abuse was detected.

         Not knowing what to do, they finally sent me along with some other children to an orphanage in a Melizian neighboring town called Lipur Lalu. I remember having to sit for the same Compulsory Test and later, numbly receiving congratulations and the news that I had been selected to join the FGP.

         I then received by mail some money and a train ticket to Ismet Kelsom, a sleepy town just north of the border of the Melizian capital city of Kismet Kesuma. I found out later that the former was much closer to the mansion than the station in Kismet Kesuma was, by way of a back road. I recalled that not many passengers alighted from the train at the small and dusty Ismet Kelsom train station. I remember noting that the station building was old and deserted, and paint peels and cracks were evident on the wooden walls.

         I also remember looking around, slightly overwhelmed by unfamiliar surroundings, my small suitcase swinging from my skinny arm, when I caught sight of three children about my age sitting on the wooden fence some distance away from the station building, enjoying toffee apples. All at once I knew that these were the ones who had been sent to take me to my new home.

         The first was a handsome dark boy with strong proud features, and who, at that particular moment, was chatting happily to the girl beside him. The girl, sitting daintily in the middle, looked pretty in pink and her shiny hair ending in soft curls bobbed up and down in agreement to something the first boy had said. The third was a slight fair-headed boy, the first fair-haired person I had ever laid eyes on, and who struck me as quiet and somewhat shy. Without warning, his eyes shot up to meet mine. He flashed a brilliant smile and began nudging the girl and pointing toward me eagerly.

         Noticing me, the three quickly slid off the fence to come up and greet me as well as introduce themselves. The boys shook my hand cordially, with the dark-haired boy smirking and the blond one grinning away like an idiot and removing the suitcase from my hand, while the girl gave me a warm embrace. That was when the startled boys first pointed out the similarity between us.

          “Why, Skye!” Qit had gasped. “She looks just like you!”

          “What?” Skye had asked back in disbelief, inspecting me. “You trying to pull my leg?”

          “No, he’s not,” Que had defended his brother. “It’s true. Really!”

         I also began checking out Skye, a little concerned over the thought that my looks were not unique to me.

          “Nah,” Skye and I both decided simultaneously. Then she burst out laughing, though I still hung on to my serious countenance. It was clear to all that we both didn’t believe the brothers.

         The three afterward led me to a black antique Bander car model - which reminded me of an old Western stagecoach - waiting at the parking lot with the engine running. A staid white-haired chauffeur who Skye affectionately called Uncle C. opened the front passenger door for Qit to enter, then the back passenger door for the rest of us. I noted that he had raised an eyebrow upon setting eyes on me, but no reference to Skye’s resemblance to me did he make as he remained tight-lipped throughout the journey toward my new abode.

         I found myself sandwiched in the back between Skye and Que. Skye and Qit had both finished their toffee apples, but Que still had some of his left. To my horror, he bashfully offered it to me.

          “It’s OK, Que,” Skye was telling him. Even back then she was typically sensitive of others’ true feelings. “We don’t want to upset her stomach after her long journey now, do we? And besides, it doesn’t hurt to let her build up an appetite. I bet Cook Ada has prepared some tasty treats for us!”

          “Yum, yum,” Qitler had added. “Lip-smacking mouth-watering munchies!”

          “I can’t wait,” the beaming Que then echoed his brother’s sentiments.

         I somehow found it easy to fit in. Skye quickly became close to me, although the reason was not very clear to me. Penny had at first been rather annoyed at having me ‘steal’ her best friend away from her, then indifferent to it all, but since I knew I had done nothing wrong, I just ignored her initial cold welcome.

         Even back then, I used to enjoy being on my own rather than join the others’ incessant tirade of teenage interests. Skye on the other hand was more social than me, but her irritating flawlessness sometimes made her stand out a little too much. At times, I remember thinking how she overworked herself to be accepted, while I, being basically a loner, was ironically more easily accepted in a gathering than she did. For this very reason, I think it was Que who, tired of confusing our similar names up (Skye’s birth name was Azura and for some reason Dr. Marcox as her legal guardian had changed it), had finally nicknamed Skye the Outsider and me the Newcomer.

         Even to this day, we were often being referred to as such.

         I also remember spending countless hours learning various skills, like archery, writing, even singing and acting, some of them skills which didn’t seem necessary to me. We had private tutors coming in everyday to teach us new things, though we sometimes got to meet others our age when we had visits, camping trips or tournaments. I remember how Skye outshone us all by being adept at almost all learned skills, but we managed to surpass her in identified fields which we later specialized in, though what they were I couldn’t quite recall.

         Ari joined us when we were all 16.

         Under a newly-introduced government regulation with regards to Fighters, we all got to go to the highly-selective private Willerhomina University in the nearby Willerhomina provinces about an hour’s ride from the mansion.

 

 

7) The Grounds

 

         The buzzing of the intercom disturbed our reminiscing. All of a sudden, Qit’s booming voice squawked out at us.

          “Henri! Azure!” the voice growled. “You guys intend to come down or not? It’s past nine o’clock already. Breakfast’s getting cold!”

         Henri leaned over and replied saucily, “Yeah, and why didn’t you inform us earlier, then?”

         There was a slight pause, then: “We overslept.” Another pause as he allowed Henri his guffaw. An image of a sullen-faced Qit entered my mind and made me smile. “Hold on, I think Que’s heading over there to check on you guys. He’s bound to be there very soon.”

         All of a sudden, there was a loud knock on the bedroom door. Without waiting for an answer, Que had barged in and strode straight up to us. He pushed Henri aside and asked me whether I felt better.

          “Much,” I answered brightly. “And I remember quite a lot, too.”

          “That’s good to hear,” his glad smile appeared so genuine that I thought it made him look sweet. “Now let’s get some breakfast; I’m sure you must be famished by now. Would you like to join us downstairs, or would you prefer to have food brought up for you?”

          “She can make it downstairs,” Henri replied sarcastically, while at the same time I answered, “Oh, I don’t want to trouble anyone. I’ll go get ready and join you guys downstairs.”

         Que gave my hand a slight squeeze. “You don’t have to force yourself, you know.”

         I saw Henri exasperatedly turn his eyes up toward the ceiling. “Look, she won’t be forcing herself to do anything she doesn’t want to do,” he remarked a little pointedly. “Of course she’s capable of going downstairs, same as everybody else. What do you take her for?”

          “It’s OK, Hen,” I reassured Henri, giving him a slight pat on the back of his hand, trying to avoid a confrontation between the two. I didn’t like the look flashing in Que’s eyes. “I’m sure Que means well. Now look, maybe you guys should go first while I get ready.”

          “By getting ready you mean that you’re gonna take a long hot bath and come down at least half-an-hour later?” Henri queried, and I saw Que smile lopsidedly.

          “Uh, yes,” I answered, taken aback that he had read my mind exactly.

          “Hey, don’t look so surprised,” admonished Henri. “We’re used to the way your mind works. Right, Que?”

          “Right,” Que replied, pulling at my hand. “Now, come on! We’re ravenous! Let’s all go down before I decide to carry you there myself.”

         This caused me to yelp and abruptly sit up straighter. Que helped me get down from my bed while Henri passed me my crutches and dressing gown. I quickly put the latter on over my checkered pajamas, glancing at Henri’s rumpled dark ones and wondering whether he’d get it in his head to don a decent dressing gown as well, or perhaps rush to the bathroom - not to mine but to his own - to brush his teeth or something. I wasn’t partial to sharing cleansing utensils with other people.

         Or, wait; were all men like this, not much into oral hygiene and personal appearance? Then my eyes flit over to Que, clad in tight jeans and blue collared T-shirt and smelling of musky cologne. Well, at least this one’s an exception, and evidently had time to shower and get dressed while claiming to be very hungry.

         When we got down to the ground floor, everyone was already seated and I was glad to note they were all robed in dressing gowns or otherwise sleeping attire. I would have hated it had I discovered only Henri and I were the ones still inappropriately dressed. It was also quickly evident that I wasn’t the only one to notice details regarding Que and Henri.

          “Hey, Que,” Qit sounded surprised. “Didn’t think you had enough time to change.”

          “Oh, pooh,” squealed Penny while Henri stood behind her, reaching for a plate and asking her to pass the fork and spoon. “Did you remember to brush your teeth this morning, Henri?” When Henri sheepishly shook his head, she forced him to gargle using the mouthwash in the ground floor toilet first before commencing to eat.

         Cook Ada and her helper, a slight girl who Skye later told me was called Eva, carried the dishes to the rectangular solid oak table. The breakfast menu consisted of a long loaf of fruit and nut bread (I learned afterward this was one of Skye’s and my favorite types of grain), plain croissants (Penny’s fav), corned beef, stalks of boiled sweet corn (which, it seems, Ari loved), huge boiled potatoes (Henri appeared to prefer this the most), scrambled eggs, butter and mayonnaise (one of both twins’ staple diet). There was even a white porcelain teapot dotted with tiny buds each of coffee, tea and milk, as well as a simple stone jug of plain water.

         This was the first time I had had breakfast with all of them at one single table, and I was both astounded and amused by how they behaved in their natural environment. Ari kept grabbing and stuffing all kinds of food into his mouth as if there were no tomorrow, Henri was prattling on indifferently to a horrified Penny with smears of mayonnaise on his cheek and Qit, seated at one end of the long table with Que and Penny nearby on each side, claimed his chair kept rocking and was unstable, and promptly sat on the table with his feet on the chair, continuing to eat his corn in a nonchalant fashion.

         I think this would have continued had Skye not noticed me gaping with an uneaten piece of sandwich still on my plate. “Qit,” she snapped. “While we admire your behind, we find the view rather distracting. And Penny, why don’t you help wipe the smudge off Henri with your napkin? I don’t think he’ll be able to find it under an hour if you just keep on pointing it out to him. And Ari – table manners, please.”

         All mentioned kept quiet, suddenly aware of my presence, and sheepishly reverted to a more appropriate manner. I was somewhat embarrassed that Skye was making a big fuss of me being home, and that the others were clearly not comfortable with my presence in the house after my long disappearance yet. But all was soon forgotten as we resumed eating, with the noisy non-stop criss-crossing conversations flowing as usual. Though tasty, I didn’t have the appetite to eat much, yet I still hung around to listen to the discussions, ranging everything from going shopping with one’s new beau (Penny) to life after death (Henri).

          “You sure don’t eat much,” commented an uncharacteristically subdued Que while standing up and extending a hand for my half-empty plate to take to the kitchen. All around, the conversations started to dissipate. I heard Ari belch and witnessed Qit rubbing his full tummy. “How’re you gonna get better if you don’t eat?”

          “In time,” I looked up at him and smiled. “It’s the other way around actually – I’ll get better and soon I’ll be eating a whole lot more!”

          “What’s our plan today?” Skye asked while Que continued clearing the table with Penny and Henri. “Today is Sunday, so we’re all free. Are you up to it?”

          “Up to it to do what?” I countered back, slowly sipping my lukewarm coffee.

          “Up to it to do anything that needs doing,” she replied, a warm smile playing on her lips. “Oh, say, unpacking, going around the grounds, or anything else for that matter. And, ah-ah,” a disapproving wag of the index finger here, “you should watch your caffeine intake. You know it will give you a headache afterward.”

          “Really?” I asked, thankful for this forgotten information, even though she was beginning to get on my nerves with her nanny routine. No wonder that brute Dr. Ryan had forbidden me from drinking caffeine – this must have been the reason. At least, I can’t think of anything else. “I’ll be careful next time. Thanks.”

          “You might watch it, ‘cuz if you don’t get a headache, you’re gonna be a little tipsy,” added Henri, balancing a stack of plates while Penny opened the kitchen door for him and Que sailed through ahead.

          “You’re making it sound like some sort of alcoholic beverage,” I complained unbelievingly, yet at the same time processing the data. “You sure you’re not kidding?”

         Ari chortled and challenged with a glint in his eyes, “Why don’t you try and see what happens? I bet a lot of us are eager to see what happens, too.”

          “No, thank you,” I turned down his dare, unsure of how I would actually react under the influence of caffeine.

          “So what’ll it be?” Skye asked again excitedly. I looked into her earnest eyes and hoped I didn’t disappoint her too much with my answer.

          “Well, I answered slowly, “if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather spend the day alone. If that’s, you know, alright with you.” I felt a pang of pity as I watched her face fall. But she quickly recovered and beamed at me.

          “It’s your choice, you know,” she told me. “Just remember we’re around in case you need help.”

          “That’s OK,” Que suddenly said, sauntering up and snaking an arm around me. But he quickly dropped his arm before I could shrug him off. “’Cuz I’ll be with her the whole day today.”

         Skye shot Qit a look that clearly said Help! You’d better get your kooky brother to his senses quick! Getting the message, Qit went up to Que and took his hand.

          “You know we’re quite busy today,” he reminded his brother gently. “Why don’t we practice some more shots? The basketball tournament is after all tomorrow.”

         Que looked peevish but did not say a word. Instead, he allowed Qit to lead him out the door.

          “Look,” suggested Henri with a yawn while stretching his arms. “Why don’t we leave you to your own sweet time while we go do our things, and if you need us, just holler. Or use the phone or something. I think they’ve put the extension list beside yours, too.”

          “I’ll go check,” I promised while Skye grinned like a Cheshire cat, probably thinking it was a great idea.

          “I’ll brief you on the status of your assets later, too,” promised Skye. “When we have more time.”

          “Sure, I’ve almost forgotten that one,” I admitted.

         So while the twin brothers went outside to go play in the basketball court, Skye, Penny, Ari and Henri slowly trudged up the stairs, keeping time with me on my stair-lift. Everybody then went to his or her room and I suddenly found myself alone in mine.

         I took the opportunity to have a leisurely soak in the tub then went to inspect my range of clothing in the closet. I’ve forgotten I had this many clothes, from cute anoraks and trendy fur coats to exquisite evening gowns and sexy chemises. I frowned at the designer labels in my hands. Was I really into such expensive stuff? I couldn’t imagine being comfortable in them.

         At last, I came upon an assortment of faded jeans, multi-colored multi-slogan T-shirts and oversized shirts at the very back. I donned on a pair of cut-off jeans and a white denim men’s shirt, instantaneously feeling relaxed and more at home. Dressing done, I then reluctantly went to unpack my bags.

         Oh, well, I thought, sinking down in front of the suitcases which Qit and Ari left inside the closet. Better start now and get it over and done with.

         I gingerly unzipped the suitcase one by one, rummaging through my stuff and trying to make up my mind on which thing was supposed to go where. It took me almost an hour to decide and another two to store the contents to appropriate places, plus several breaks in between which I spent sprawled exhaustedly on my back on the floor. I was thankful the others hadn’t pressured me to allow them to help, otherwise I’d have been deadlocked resolving how to organize my possessions properly.

         Mission accomplished, I pushed the suitcases into a corner in the closet, fell onto the bed with a long sigh and closed my eyes. I think I had only dozed off for a mere minute before Henri’s voice boomed from the intercom and made me jump with eyes opened wide.

          “Hey, Azure,” he said gleefully. “Thought I’d use the intercom so you wouldn’t have to get up just to get to the phone.”

          “What is it this time?” I asked crankily, shutting my eyes again.

         He must’ve detected the sleepiness in my voice because he said, “Wakey, wakey. Time for lunchey. It’s past one o’clock already.”

          “Get your butt down here now!” I heard Ari roar from somewhere behind him, then heard the sound of scampering, and Qit’s thoughtful voice rang out.

          “You OK there?” he queried. “Can you come down on your own? We can go get you if you need us.”

          “Nah,” I replied, rubbing the sleep off my eyes. “It’s just that the intercom’s so loud it’s making my head buzz. Don’t worry, I’ll come down soon. Wait for me, everyone.”

         I made my way down slowly, using the stair-lift with the crutches resting on my lap. When I reached the dining room, I saw that everybody was seated all around, talking animatedly to one another. Food had been prepared, too, and consisted of still-steaming ghee rice and some side dishes which included fried cashew nuts, raisins and mint sauce. I smiled appreciatively as I inhaled the aroma of roasted chicken and beef curry.

          “Come sit here,” gestured Skye, patting the seat beside her. I leaned the crutches against the nearby wall and slowly sat down onto the cushioned oak wood seat. I unexpectedly found myself same as this morning, sitting between Skye and Que. What was this? I wondered as a smiling Que unfurled my napkin and helped put it on my lap. Were seat arrangements fixed? I had no idea but was willing to play along if this was the custom. Opposite me, Henri, flanked by Penny and Ari, winked at me and began to heap a pile of rice onto reluctant Penny’s plate.

         Qit, seated at one end of the table, passed Que my plate, and Que began to follow Henri’s example and even included portions of side dishes atop it before passing the plate on to me. Comfortable with common Melizian practice, I washed my hands from a water bowl Que passed to me and like Skye, Qit, Que and Ari, commenced to eat using my hands.

         It was an excellent lunch. I found out that it was customary for Ari to belch his approval after a satisfying meal, although Penny wrinkled her nose in disapproval each time he did that.

          “Last I checked, I thought I saw some nice dresses in your closet,” commented Que, throwing an impish lopsided grin my way. “How come you’re not wearing any?”

         I felt my cheeks burn and was suddenly tongue-tied, not knowing what to answer.

          “Can’t you see she’s comfortable enough as she is,” chided Henri from across the table. “Stop bullying her, Que.”

          “Just kidding,” whispered Que apologetically as he took my empty white rose-patterned plate and started clearing the table with Henri and Penny. I smiled back at him to show that no offense was taken.

          “So,” I turned to meet Skye’s brilliant doe eyes, eager to make up for this morning’s episode. “What do you think we should do after this? Any plans? I’ve already done my unpacking.”

          “Gee, I’m not sure,” Skye replied. “Henri suggested giving you a tour of the grounds. But what I had in mind was more specific, something like a trip to the stables.”

          “Stables?” I sputtered, fear suddenly looming out of nowhere. It would have sunk me to my knees had I not been sitting down. “Whatever for?”

          “I don’t think you’ve been properly acquainted to all your possessions yet,” came the coy answer. “I just thought it high time you were.”

          “She means to show you Midnight,” Penny observed and shuddered as she carried a stack of plates toward the kitchen behind Que’s disappearing back. “I’d watch out, if I were you. That thing’s pure evil.”

         I quickly turned to look pleadingly at Henri for support but he had conveniently turned his back on me and was heading toward the kitchen behind Penny.

 

 

8) The Horse

 

         After some conversation and glasses of lemonade, Skye led me outside using the back door located behind the staircase. There was a trail paved with cobblestones leading deep into the shade of the giant leafy trees. After convincing Skye that I had no problem keeping up with her, we made our way slowly down the lane.

         On our way, we passed by the lake and I spied several ducks swimming near the bait at the end of a fishing rod. The person holding the rod was in fact Ari with a wide-brimmed straw hat perched on his head, nodding off to sleep in his shady spot under the trees, protected from the warm afternoon sun.

         Next, we passed by a playground and the games courts. Skye went to say hello to Qit, Que and Henri who were playing a fast and intense game of basketball. They stopped playing and walked across the cement-floored basketball court to come and greet us, wiping off beads of perspiration from their brows.

          “Where are you headed?” Qit inquired from Skye then tipping his near-empty drink bottle above his mouth and allowing the last few drops to trickle down his throat.

          “Off to re-introduce her to Midnight, huh?” rasped Henri, panting with his back slightly bowed and his palms resting upon his knees. “So I heard.”

          “Really?” Que seemed astonished to hear this. I thought he looked slightly disturbed at this idea. He frowned at Skye and pointed toward me. “You sure she’s ready for this? She just got out of hospital, you know.”

          “I know,” Skye replied patiently. “And give her some credit, Que. She’s tougher than she looks. She can handle it.”

         Tougher than I look? I thought in dismay. What exactly do I look like to them – a weakling?

         Que stared at me thoughtfully with his hands on his hips, then surprised me by reaching out suddenly and giving my lower lip a tweak. “Oh, you look so-o cute when you do that face! Now, don’t be afraid, Azure. I know Midnight’s a handful these days but he’ll calm down once he sees you again. I bet he’s been missing you, too, poor chap. Wish I could go with you, though.”

          “No,” both Henri and Qit cried out vehemently.

          “Besides,” Qit reminded Que. “There’s the game to think of tomorrow.”

          “Yeah, that’s right,” Que sighed resignedly. “Come by and cheer for us tomorrow, Azure. I – we’d really like that.”

         I turned to look at Skye, who nodded her approval. I licked the salty taste off my lip then answered, “Sure I’ll go – if somebody’s willing to take me.”

          “That’d be me,” offered Henri, straightening up. “I won’t be joining them tomorrow. It’ll only be Que and Qit, plus some feds.”

          “Alright then,” agreed Que as Qit pulled at his hand, indicating that he wanted to resume the game. Que hollered over his shoulder as he allowed his brother to lead him toward the ball in the center of the court. “We’ll be expecting you!”

         Finally, Skye took me to a one-and-a-half-story log building adjacent to a fenced paddock where three horses were grazing. While keeping in step with me, she told me how I got my horse.

          “It was the most surprising thing, really,” she was telling me. “I think it was about a year after you first came here. You used to have these vivid nightmares back then – oh, yeah; similar to what you had last night. That’s OK – none of it’s new to us anyway. Sometimes you’d roll about and scream bloody murder, and wake us all up in the middle of the night. In the early days, I sometimes slept in your room to keep you company, but after you kept biting and clawing and kicking me, generally fighting off anyone who attempted to wake you, we decided to just let you be.”

          “I-I’m sorry for the troubles I’ve caused,” I stammered. I must have looked pretty embarrassed and sheepish then because she suddenly flung her arms around me and told me sincerely that everything was all right.

          “We simply accepted the fact that that is what you do every night,” she rationalized and referred to an ancient Melizian belief. “Maybe your spirit makes its journey every night without fail in order to seek truth and strength, and just had to encounter many obstacles in its adventures. That’s what you do. That’s why you kick and squirm so agitatedly in your sleep.”

          “Did I remember any of those stuff when I woke up?” I inquired, brushing off the ancient myth aside.

          “Sometimes you did,” answered Skye thoughtfully. “And sometimes you didn’t.”

          “Really?” Her curt answer made sense to me.

          “But usually we force you to remember things if we felt like it,” she added with a smirk. “Because we found that your dreams are somewhat insightful to our circumstances. Penny thinks you’re just holding back your memories and feigning ignorance during your waking hours, though.”

          “Oh,” I said, quietly pondering whether Penny was right.

          “I was telling you about Midnight,” Skye steered me back to the main subject of conversation.

          “Yes,” I prodded her. “Go on.”

          “Like I said,” she reminisced, her eyes shining at the memory. “It was the most amazing thing. I remember it was raining that night and about 2 or 3 a.m. I think it was – well, a few hours before dawn anyway, I was woken up when I thought I heard your cries in between claps of thunder. We used to keep the intercom in your room open in case anything happens, you know. I remember running all the way to your room, flinging open the doors, and discovering rumpled sheets and pillows strewn all over the floor, but no you.

         "I panicked and roused the others and some support staff, too. Security claimed they hadn’t caught a glimpse of you but they joined in the search anyway. Then, when it was almost dawn, you came trudging up the driveway, wet, muddy and very tired, atop this huge black horse. It almost blew our minds when you claimed you had no recollection of where you had gone to, how you found the horse, or how it brought you home, either.”

          “So nobody knows how I came to get Midnight?” I asked for confirmation.

          “Nobody,” she answered, shaking her head.

          “Oh,” I said again. We were quiet for a while, then curiosity got the better of me. “Say, what’s he like, Skye?”

          “Hmm,” Skye contemplated, her forehead furrowed. “Let’s see now. He’s huge and has a solid black coat, a very rare trait for his stock, or so I heard. I think he’s a thoroughbred, of Albinian descent, if you consider his features. He has prominent eyes, large nostrils and a small teacup muzzle. He’s got a gracefully arched neck, long sloping shoulders and a broad chest, too. As well as a short, strong back. He’s about 15 hands in height and probably weigh 1,000 pounds, though it may be slightly less now. He hasn’t been eating properly after you left.”

          “Left?” I asked, confused. Then realization hit me. “Oh, when I left for Mucia Pasifika, you mean.”

          “So,” she murmured softly after a slight pause. “Henri has been telling you what happened, has he?”

          “I think he means to speed my memory recovery,” I clarified, laughing casually, hoping I wouldn’t get Henri into hot water because of my slip.

          “Oh, well,” Skye shrugged. “Anyway, Midnight is very special, no doubt about it. He’s intelligent and highly responsive, and answers well to your commands. He’s strong and brawny, too, and his speed, agility and stamina is commendable.”

          “That all?” I queried, seeing her halt in mid-conversation.

          “What do you mean?” she shot back, eyes flashing.

          “Well, it’s just that I overheard Penny referring to him as a ‘monster’,” I finally confided awkwardly. Surprisingly, she threw back her head and laughed.

          “Oh, that Penny,” she managed to respond in between chuckles. “You mustn’t mind everything she says. That’s one of her special gifts, I guess. The gift of gab.”

          “So you’re saying she was just pulling my leg?” I pressed her for verification.

          “Well,” she replied, sobering up somewhat. “Penny doesn’t lie. That’s not what I implied. It’s just that, well, she tends to exaggerate sometimes.”

          “And you’re telling me now that Midnight is OK? No monster?” I asked again.

          “Well,” she avoided looking directly at me. “I’m afraid he’s earned himself a reputation for being highly-strung and can be quite temperamental, too.”

          “Why keep him then if he’s so much trouble?” I inquired, seeing right through her lame underplayed explanations.

          “Because,” Skye replied exasperatedly, “he’s your horse, that’s why! We couldn’t locate his previous owner, if he ever had one - though this seems somewhat unlikely - and everybody could clearly see how much you both loved each other. He practically worships the ground you walk on. Besides, we were always cracking jokes about how well-suited the pair of you were.”

          “You mean, I was difficult?” I asked in confusion, a little hurt at her remark.
          “No, no,” Skye replied quickly. “Well, OK, maybe a little moody. But you’ve changed, though.”

          “After the coma or before that?” I wanted to be sure on this one.

          “Oh, well,” Skye smiled resignedly, knowing I had her cornered. “After the coma, if you must know. You’re somehow more quiet nowadays, a little contemplative and laid-back, too.”

          “How was I before?” I quietly asked her.

          “Well, you were, oh, I don’t know, spirited, I guess. Vibrant, that’s more like it. You always seemed to have bundles of energy stored, and always trying out new things, some of them disputably dangerous, even when you knew you were accident-prone.”

          “Oh, yeah,” I cut in, remembering. “Dr. Ryan back at the hospital told me I needed ‘constant babying’, that was what he called it.”

          “Yeah, well,” continued Skye. “You were more into artistic stuff, too. Sometimes going off on lone trips to paint or write. You never let us read any of the stuff you wrote, though. And maybe, because of your creative mind, you were often impatient, sullen and moody.”

          “Yikes!” I did not remember any of it. “Sounds more like Qit when he first came to the mansion, though.”

         Skye laughed again and commented, “Well, he had grown up in so many ways since then. I personally find him more agreeable now, don’t you?”

          “Can’t say,” I reminded her. “Don’t remember him from before.”

          “Yeah, right,” she shut her eyes and gave herself a rap on the head. “What was I thinking?”

          “But did you mind me being difficult and all?” I asked timidly, afraid to know the answer. In response, she hugged me again.

          “Of course not, you fool,” she smiled broadly. “You are my twin, after all.”

          “How about the others?” I disengaged myself from her.

          “Oh, they were OK with it,” came the answer. “We all have our individual strengths and weaknesses. They accepted you for who you were, and constantly reminded themselves what you must have had to go through in the first place to reach Melize alive.”

          “They had to remind themselves?” I asked, aghast. “Was I really that bad?”

          “Well, we all were back then, after a fashion,” she grinned good-naturedly. “But during those times, we had a lot to be thankful for. Most of us liked to reflect on the past to thoroughly appreciate and be grateful to what fate had kindly brought us. Oh, look, here we are.”

         Reaching the lavender-painted fence, Skye then walked right up to it and whistled. Automatically, two of the horses gave a welcoming whinny and galloped excitedly toward her. I drew back at first, expecting a stampede, but when the horses stopped short of the fence, I gathered my wits about me and neared Skye cautiously.

          “This one here’s Strider,” grinned Skye, patting the brown horse on his snout. He turned one huge brown eye on me, flared his nostrils and showed me his huge yellow teeth. I took a defensive step back but Skye merely laughed and rubbed noses with him. He neighed softly to her all the while, and upon closer inspection I saw that he was roan and was dappled white on both sides. “Macho-looking tyke, eh? He usually takes some time to get comfortable with someone, but most times he’s friendly and playful.”

          “And the other one?” I questioned, eyeing the white one who kept poking her head close to mine, as if preparing to make a head-butt.

          “Now this one here is the sweetest mare in the whole wide world,” Skye beamed at the white horse and scratched her behind one ear. “Her name’s Uni, short for Unicorn. See the gray mark on her forehead? I had always imagined that that was the spot where her horn had been, before it was chopped clean off, you know. If she had had it, she would have been able to converse with us in human language, but you see, she lost all her powers once her horn was taken away from her.”

         I gazed at Skye, marveling at her high level of imagination. But what a dreamer she was! It made me worry, too – was I as bad as her? The self-written manuscripts in my room seemed to point to this direction.

         Meanwhile, both horses had begun to nudge Skye impatiently. She laughed and scolded them, then took out from her front pocket a lump of sugar for each horse.

          “Have you had these horses long?” I asked curiously.

          “Yes,” she replied, patting and stroking both horses at once. “I got Strider right after I came here. His owner had then been a friend’s acquaintance, and he wasn’t very good at keeping horses. Couldn’t afford it, either. In fact, he had been prepared to put the poor gelding to sleep until I intervened. I asked him to sell Strider to me, and that was how I got him.”

          “And how about Uni?” I countered.

          “Oh, Uni,” Skye tossed her head back, laughing. “I’ve always had her, ever since I could remember. My earliest recollection was at age five or so, and I remembered her as a foal back then."

         That means she must be very old, I reasoned, wisely keeping the thought to myself. Well, at least the fairy tale part now makes sense, considering that it stemmed from the imagination of a child. Then, aloud I asked, “What about that one then?” I pointed toward the chestnut horse grazing in the middle of the paddock. As if understanding us, she looked up and gazed at us from across the field. That was when I noticed the white round mark on her forehead.

          “That mare belongs to Penny,” explained Skye. “Her name’s Cupcake, with a disposition to match. A gift from Penny’s uncle when she first joined us.”

          “Ah,” I murmured, not knowing what else to say. I just stood there leaning against a wooden post as I allowed Skye some privacy basking in the attention of her two horses under the warm glow of the declining sun. At last she gave each a final pat on the head and turned to face me.

          “Let’s go to the stables now, shall we?” Skye smiled brightly at me. I felt a lump in my throat when I heard this suggestion. “You haven’t met Midnight yet, have you? Come, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

         She drove me toward the log-walled stables. Inside, we found a chap of about eighteen, tall and lanky for his age with a shock of red mop on his head, carrying a pail of water.

          “This is Alric,” she introduced me to him. I couldn’t stop myself from staring at his freckled face postmarked with scabs and band-aids. “He’s the groomer here and lives in the loft on top. How are the horses today, Alric?”

          “The usual,” came the terse reply.

          “Meaning?” Skye prodded on, lifting one eyebrow up to show she meant business.

          “Meaning the other three are OK, but Midnight’s giving me a headache,” Alric explained. “He almost kicked me when I changed the hay in his stable this morning. We sent him to the vet yesterday for shots and had his intestinal worms treated and he came back very ill-tempered.”

          “Ah, thanks, Alric,” Skye seemed taken aback by Alric’s elaborate report. “By the way, could you kindly lead the way for Azure? She’s looking forward to seeing Midnight after all this while.”

          “It’s your funeral,” Alric said, bluntly and disbelievingly. He stooped to pick up the tin pail he had put down on the wooden floor and straightened up. “I was just on my way there meself. This way, then.”

         He led me to a relatively clean stable with a fan affixed to the nearby wall running at full force. He put the pail down at his feet, water swooshing inside it. Then he explained they usually kept this part of the building relatively dark because “he has sensitive eyes, and he’s sure to let you know if he doesn’t like it.”

          “I’d rather not get too near to that darned horse,” he intoned warningly, folding his arms cockily.

          “It’s OK, Azure,” Skye was assuring me. My legs wobbled as I feebly walked up to her. “He’s a good boy. He won’t hurt us.” I heard Alric give an amused snort at this last comment, but Skye chose to ignore him.

          “Right,” I managed to say, teeth chattering slightly. “What do I do now?”

          “Call out to him,” she coaxed me, putting a lump of sugar into my outstretched palm. “Usually he prefers apples, but this’ll do.”

         I held my breath as I peered into the darkness of the dingy stable. The light was deliberately dim here, and I didn’t exactly possess a hawk’s keen vision. All I could see were vague shapes and shadows looming in the far corner. But at Skye’s prodding, I cautiously extended my arm through the gap between wooden planks of the stable door, whistling and calling out Midnight’s name, all the while proffering him the sugar lump.

         All of a sudden, I reared my hand back and fell backward, as powerful hooves thundered at the door and almost brought it down. Panic-stricken, I didn’t even feel the pain in my rear as I watched the door shudder again and again with every kick, sending tremors all throughout the logged building.

          “Get me away from him,” I suddenly screamed at horrified Skye. “You brought me here on purpose – you wanted to kill me! Get me away, get me away!”

         Alric pulled me up by the armpits and brought me to rest against a wooden post on the opposite wall. Amid hysterical sobs, I overheard him coldly suggesting to frozen Skye that Midnight be put to sleep.

 

 

9) The Fever

 

         That night, I came down with a fever. Despite Skye’s well-meaning offers, I refused to allow her by my side, insisting instead to have Henri take care of me. I didn’t feel comfortable being ‘babied’ by strange support staff, either. Despite my oral temperature of 40 degrees in Celsius, I still had no trouble remembering the incident before, as well as the vexing memory of having snapped and bombarding poor Skye with cruel nonsensical accusations.

         Dr. Ryan hadn’t come. Instead, a young doctor perhaps in his late 20s whose name I failed to register had been the one to personally examine me. He diagnosed me and casually brushed my fever off as the common cold. True, my symptoms included a running nose, sore throat and some minor body aches. He had taken the time to interrogate Skye: what had I been doing, with whom, was I stressed or did I receive shocking news or undergo a shocking incident perhaps related to my past, and so on. He also added that I could’ve been infected from the hospital, and made a passing remark about Dr. Ryan himself being down with a cold. Skye had answered to the best of her ability, all the while watching me with eyes wide with consternation.

         In the end, the doctor stood up, passed some medicine plus instructions to Penny, and exited. Penny passed the pills to Henri, who propped me up to a sitting position, gently fed me some steaming rice porridge with a spoon, then helped me swallow the pills. Very soon, drowsiness fell upon me and I was lost to the world.

         It must have been several hours later when I awoke, my air passage slightly blocked. At first I thought I had been left alone as the lights were on dim, but after shaking off my grogginess, I could make out three figures not far from my bed, whispering to each other. I squinted my slightly crusty red-brimmed eyes and determined that they were in fact Henri, Skye and Que. A full second passed by before I discovered they weren’t aware that I was awake and that it was close to midnight.

          “You should have thought about it beforehand!” Que had suddenly raised his voice angrily. What was this, were the three fighting?

          “Hush,” admonished Henri, bringing a finger to his lips. “We don’t want to wake her.”

          “I’m the one to blame,” Skye said in a low dispirited voice. I shut my eyes tight, feeling bad. I realized from the tremor in her voice that she was on the verge of crying. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

          “This wouldn’t have happened had you allowed me to be with her,” Que raved through gritted teeth. “But no, you guys were always around like a bunch of hawks, always watching me, never letting me be. Let Henri handle everything. Satisfied now?”

          “Stop it, Que,” warned Henri, putting a comforting hand upon Skye’s trembling shoulder. “Don’t be too harsh on her. She meant well.”

          “Screw it,” Que remarked cruelly. “She deserves it.”

         They went on and on like this, jumping from one subject to another, all of which were related to me in one way or another. I couldn’t make head or tail of what they were mumbling about, except perhaps for the fact that Que was clearly blaming Skye for everything. I felt a cough coming up, and tried to stifle it the best I could. But in the end my throat felt too itchy to hold, and I allowed a dry racking cough to escape.

         The others abruptly stopped their conversation short and crept nearer to me. Skye turned on the bedside lamp, tentatively put her cool soft palm on my forehead to gauge my temperature level and smiled at me comfortingly. I saw that her eyes were red and swollen and mentally gave Que a kick for making her cry. I admit being tired of Skye’s know-it-all attitude sometimes, but after all, she was my self-professed twin. With no other living relations I knew of, that made her my next-of-kin.

          “I want to tell you something,” I rasped, pulling her hand to bring her closer. “I’m really sorry for cracking up the way I did this afternoon. I don’t know what got into me. Forgive me?”

         She smiled warmly, then shook her head. “No, it was my fault, actually. I was the one who forced you to go to the stables.”

         On the other side of the bed, I saw Que turn toward Henri, arms folded, smugly telling him, “See? Told you.”

          “Que, Henri,” intoned Skye quietly. “Would you both mind going to the kitchen and getting some food for Azure?”

          “I’m really not that hungry,” I objected weakly, while Que went on to argue with Henri why they both had to go down, instead of just Henri.

          “Ah,” the smile never left Skye’s lips. “But you need to eat before your medication. The last one was four hours ago.” Then she turned to frown at the two boys. “Que? Henri? Whatever are you waiting for?”

          “We’re going, we’re going,” assured Henri, dragging an unwilling Que behind as he went out the door.

         Skye and I chatted amicably enough about almost everything in general, though we steered clear away from the subject of the afternoon episode. Pretty soon Henri returned with a bowl of porridge and chicken broth on a tray while Que held a steaming mug of cocoa in his hands.

         Skye took the porridge from Henri’s hands while Que put the mug down onto the bedside table. She blended the rice with the chicken broth, using the spoon to stir so as to speed up its cooling time. She brought the spoon up to her lips to test its warmth, decided it was OK, then began to spoon-feed me. I could only take in not more than ten spoonfuls without feeling the urge to throw up. She then passed me the pills to swallow and the hot cocoa to sip afterward.

          “It’s the witching hour already,” I heard Que mutter as he glanced at my alarm clock. There was a sudden pensive silence all around. All at once we jumped when somebody used the knocker outside to rap on my bedroom door. It opened quietly and we were glad to see that it was only the cook’s helper, Eva. She had thoughtfully brought up three more mugs and a stone teapot full of hot cocoa as well as a plate of cookies for all of us to enjoy.

          “Not much of a talker, is she,” I commented while sipping the mug Henri had refilled after Eva had left. I couldn’t stop myself from comparing her to the uncouth groomer from the stables.

          “I would say the same about you myself if I hadn’t known you better,” remarked Que in between sips. I glanced at him and saw something in his eyes that made me turn my face away uncomfortably.

         The door was suddenly thrown open again and in strode Qit. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me sitting up on the bed.

          “Oh, hi, Azure,” he greeted me. “Didn’t think you were awake. Oh, what’s this? Midnight snack? Supper? Yum-yum. Pass me your mug, Que.”

         He shared mugs with Que while sitting atop the king bench with Que and Henri.

          “What are you doing up at this hour?” Skye asked him. “Tomorrow’s the tourney, you know.”

          “Yeah,” Qit replied, bringing the mug up to his lips for another sip of hot cocoa. “Thanks, Skye. You reminded me. So when are you gonna get to bed?” He gave his twin a thump on the back and a piece of cookie shot out of the latter’s mouth, nearly hitting me in the eye. “I came here especially to remind you, it’s past your bedtime already.”

          “Aw,” Que sputtered. “Just give me five more minutes.”

          “Five minutes and that’s it,” Qit agreed sternly, arms akimbo to show Que he meant what he said.

         We talked about the tournament, which was going to be held at 4 p.m. in the army camp nearby. Qit and Que would be the only Fighters participating, and other government officials were going to join their team. It wasn’t really an actual tournament, more of a friendly match against the soldiers. But the brothers kept using the word tournament to show that they were serious in crushing the opposition.

          “We’re gonna wipe them off,” stressed Qit fierily. “Annihilate them. Totally.”

          “Yeah, man,” Que nodded in approval, giving Qit a high five.

          “I heard some commandos are in the opposition,” commented Skye pessimistically, though her eyes were twinkling mischievously. “Last I saw, they were big, brawny and capable. You sure you guys can handle them?”

          “Hey,” Qit answered in a hurt voice, jumping to his feet and flexing his muscles for all in the room to see. “Who do you think we are anyway? Of course we’ll cream them!”

          “Excellently said, bro,” agreed Que, and they exchanged another high five.

          “And now I think your time is almost up,” said Qit, glancing at the alarm clock. “Oh, yes, it’s up.” Only then I realized that Que had been humoring his brother in a valiant effort to make him forget his promised five minutes. This understanding as well as Que’s grouchy look as he stood up made me smile in amusement.

          “Get well soon, Azure,” Que pleaded as he waved his hand goodbye. “You don’t have to come see the match tomorrow, but it’ll help if you pray for us.”

          “Yeah, right,” snorted Qit, shoving Que out the door. “What happened to your macho talk a few minutes ago? Macho men don’t need people spurring them on.”

         I heard their dissipating trail of voice arguing and jesting as they made their way down the corridor. Beside me, Henri collected the mugs and arranged them onto the tray. Then he turned to look at Skye.

          “Skye,” he asked. “Do you want me to watch over her tonight?”

          “I was hoping that she would let me instead,” she smiled in answer. I quickly agreed and Henri then blew me a goodnight kiss as he made his way out the door with the leaden tray.

          “Where are you going?” I asked drowsily as the effect of the medicine began to kick in. She was heading toward the walk-in closet when she stopped and turned to look at me.

          “I think there’s an extra sleeping bag in there,” she explained, pointing toward the closet.

          “No need,” I told her, flipping the duvet aside and gesturing her to share my bed.

         She took the fluffy pillow I had passed to her and was patting it before resting her head on it. That was the last image I had of her as I fell into sleep.

         And dreamed again.

         There was darkness all around me, though not so menacing as before. I felt calmer in this dream, surer of myself. Stronger perhaps and somewhat wiser, too. A strong sense of identity seemed to envelop me. The darkness was not oppressive, rather it was comforting and private.

         I heard the sound of hooves and suddenly saw that I was standing under a lone street lamp in some strange town square, cobblestones under my feet. The cold dark mist around me slowly evaporated, till I finally came face to face with a big black horse. We studied each other for a while, not moving a muscle.

         It was I who first broke the silence.

          “Hello, Midnight,” I greeted him cordially, keeping my hands straight by my side.

          “Hello, Azure,” he neighed back in reply and stayed perhaps three feet away, refusing to take another step closer. In the dream, it somehow felt right for me to understand the horse and vice versa, as if we shared the same language.

          “You sure scared the wits out of me today,” I scolded him dourly.

          “Yeah, well,” he seemed to pause as if to think of the proper words to use. “I didn’t recognize you at first. You seemed very different from when we last met.”

         We contemplated each other in silence.

          “It’s been a long time,” I commented.

          “It’s been a long time,” he agreed affably.

          “People change,” I added.

          “People change,” he acknowledged. “But beasts seldom do.”

         I stared at him for a while, reflecting on what he had just said. There seemed to be some deeper meaning to that remark.

          “You are not the same person,” he suddenly decided, and prepared to move away.

          “Wait,” I called out to him, and he swung back his head to look at me. “How do you know whether I’m the same person or not? And what gives you the right to judge me?”

         He snorted impatiently. “Your smell, your look, your walk, your talk.”

          “And?” I urged him to continue.

          “They are not the same,” he emphasized.

         I reached out to touch him and found I had a currycomb in my right hand. I used this to rub Midnight while using the left hand to stroke his coal black coat. “How do my hands feel?” I asked as his skin shuddered beneath my touch. “The same?”

         He paused before closing his eyes and answering, “Different. The left one especially.”

         I looked at the hand mentioned and chided myself for forgetting. “Oh, this. I had this changed. Medical reasons … I think.”

         He seemed to accept the logic behind this explanation and whinnied softly in reply.

          “Did we often do this before?” I pondered aloud, resting my cheek against him. “Communicate through dreams, I mean.”

          “Sometimes,” he opened one eye lazily and used it to stare at me. “Especially when we had something important to discuss.”

          “Oh,” I exclaimed wonderingly. “Is this a special occasion, then?”

         This time he opened both eyes wide. “You seem to have lost your memory,” he commented perceptively.

          “Yeah,” I sighed. “It happens.”

          “You seem to have moved your sign, too,” he neighed, butting his head meaningfully against my shoulder.

          “Yes,” I replied ruefully. “The worst thing is, I have no recollection about it being missing at all.”

          “Missing?” he seemed slightly startled. “It’s still there, though not at the same place. Darkness still belongs to you.”

          “Huh?” I queried, not comprehending him fully. But he just snorted and stamped his feet.

          “You have a sickly smell about you,” he noted finally.

          “So that’s why I smell funny, huh?” I was somewhat relieved. “Phew! And I thought you were saying I was totally somebody else, who just happened to bang her head, lose her memory and wake up to a mistaken identity which never belonged to her in the first place.”

          “Huh?” It was Midnight’s turn to be perplexed, but I just went on and ignored it.

          “Tell me,” I implored. “Why do I seem so different? Is it my hair? I had to crop it, you know.”

         He seemed to ponder the question over in his mind before finally answering “You have been touched by Light, by the brightness of life. Even now I can see its lasting impression on you, and the light it sends forth, is spreading like wildfire. I see it has given you another chance. The choice is now up to you, whether to accept the opportunity and its consequences fully or to walk away and never look back.”

          “Hey,” I admonished him. “Slow down! Don’t speak in cryptic language!”

          “You know I can’t help it,” he blinked his eyes at me. “In our waking hours we speak different languages. In our sleep we are bound by limitations set by the dreamscape. I have not the strength to go against what has been ordained.”

          “But what do you mean I had been touched by light?” I pleaded. “Do you mean Henri Lait? Do you mean the Bearer of Light?”

          “Be careful of the fair one,” he warned, clicking his hooves against the cobblestones. “I know you are good friends with the Bearer of Light. But you must remember your place. You are Bearer of Darkness. Light and darkness should not be as one. It was never meant to be.”

          “If I’m the Bearer of Darkness and Henri the Bearer of Light,” I asked, tongue in cheek, “what the heck does that make you?”

         He stared at me for a long time, as if he thought this was a trick question and that I meant to rephrase the query soon. But I just stared back at him, my face serious. Finally, he surprised me by stretching his forelegs in front of him and bowed down to me the best he could. “You are my master,” he admitted at last, eyes cast downward to the ground. “And I am your slave. I exist only to serve you.”

          “Whoa,” I told him, taken aback. “Back up a minute, will ya? Do you realize what on earth it was you just said?”

         He suddenly straightened and cocked his head to one side as if listening intently to something I couldn’t hear. Finally, he turned to look at me, his huge brown eyes grave. “I will try to take this sickness away from you. But afterward, we will have to part.” He snorted in my face and when I coughed, gave me a head-butt and shoved me so roughly that I went flying.

         When I sat up, I found that I was in my own bed, in my own room, with Skye snoring gently beside me.

 


 

10) The Monday Breakfast

 

          “I think I’m going to go see Midnight after this,” I casually declared that morning while we were at the dining table. I had insisted I was fit to join the others for breakfast. When Skye had checked my temperature, she was surprised to note that there had been a great decline and that it had almost reached the normal level. She mentioned something about it maybe being night fever, that is fever that reveals its symptoms only at night. I had rebuked her and claimed this was what Dr. Ryan had referred to as my exceptional regenerative abilities.

         At the dining table, Skye stopped eating her rice porridge mixed well with boiled potato chunks, fried groundnuts, anchovies, soy sauce, fermented egg yolk, as well as some herbs and spices. Cook Ada, when she first heard of my intention to join the others for breakfast, had thought this would be fair to everyone; besides, she didn’t want me to be tempted by food unsuitable for my sick palate which the others might have had.

         All around the table, everybody froze in mid-conversation. Then Skye looked down into her bowl and continued to bring her spoon up to her lips to eat, seemingly unperturbed. “You can’t,” she finally said.

          “What?” I whirled around, not expecting such an answer. “But, why? If it’s about yesterday, then I - "

          “No, it’s not about yesterday,” she answered slowly. Then she turned to look at me and smiled. “It’s just that Alric’s taking him to the blacksmith today to have his new shoes fitted.”

          “Oh,” I let out a relieved laugh and felt the tension around the table dissipate. I pulled at the white woolen cardigan Skye had forced me to wear closer around me. “Well, tomorrow, then.”

          “How do you feel about the match?” Penny was asking Que from across the table.

          “Tournament, not a match,” Qit pompously corrected her.

          “Whatever,” she remarked, clearly not amused. She turned her attention back to Que. “So do you think you’re ready to fight those muscle-bound hunks?”

         Que swallowed the food he was chewing with an audible gulp before answering, “’Course we are. The question here is: are they ready for us?”

         At the same time, Qit was telling Penny, “What hunks? All I saw seemed to be cripples and maimed little boys.” He saw my feigned hurt expression and quickly apologized. “No offense, Azure. You’re no cripple; why, you’ll be jumping up and down again in no time.”

          “Very well said,” Henri drawled sarcastically, pausing with his spoon in mid-air. It was Qit’s turn to look hurt then, and once satisfied with this sight, Henri nonchalantly resumed eating.

          “You don’t have to come, you know,” Que turned to tell me. But something in his eyes told me the opposite. “I just want you to concentrate on getting better first.”

          “But I am feeling better,” I retorted. “Much, much better. You can count on me to come and cheer for you.”

          “Be ready with your pompoms and cheerleading outfit, then,” commented Penny sardonically. I was interested to notice how the tips of Que’s ears reddened as he engrossed himself with examining his spoon.

          “So, Henri,” Que finally looked up to glance at Henri. Henri stopped talking to Qit and turned to return a surprised look. “You said you were going to drive Azure to the match later on?”

          “Yeah,” Henri answered, scratching his head. “But my car’s in the workshop so I guess I’ll be taking her car instead.”

          “Well, that’s settled then,” Que concluded, throwing his napkin onto the table and pushing his chair back to stand up.

          “I have a car?” I whispered to Skye.

          “Of course you do,” Skye smiled back patiently. “Henri will show it to you later as we all have to go off to work soon.”

         Then it registered to me that they were all sensibly dressed. The men, clean-shaven and reeking of cologne, were in starched tucked-in shirts and graceful slacks. Penny wore a serious office skirt, blouse and jacket ensemble, while Skye herself was attired in a dark suit and accompanying pants.

          “Oh, yeah,” I realized suddenly that it was Monday. “But what exactly do you guys do for a living?” I hadn’t really been satisfied with Henri’s previous answer.

          “Well,” I saw Skye hesitate. “We’re Fighters.”

          “That I know,” I replied. “But what do we do?”

          “Oh, Henri can answer that one later,” she replied, whirling toward sputtering Henri. “It’s his off day today.” Then, she abruptly stood up and changed the subject while beckoning to the others. “C’mon, everyone, it’s 7.30 already. Better get ready.”

         I saw the usual trio gathering dirty dishes to bring to the kitchen, then Ms. Sandy appeared, whispering something in Ari’s ears.

          “Why, bring her in,” he bellowed, beaming. He stood up and excitedly went over to clasp my hands, at once pulling me up to my feet. “Azure, there’s somebody I’d like you to meet.”

         I turned around to look at the direction he was gazing, and saw a somewhat timid round-faced brunette with wavy hair tied up in a ponytail coming from the reception area and passing through the opened dining room door. She gave a glad smile when she saw Ari, and a shy one when she met my eyes. All around, the others greeted her with whoops and cheers while rushing about doing their chores.

          “Azure,” grinned Ari hugely, his big hand on the small of the woman’s back. “I’d like to introduce you to Joy, my wife.”

         I managed not to let my eyes pop out too much as I took her proffered hand in mine. I didn’t realize he was married.

          “How was your trip, darling?” Ari asked while giving her a kiss on her temple. “Everything OK?”

          “It was OK,” she answered softly, blushing slightly at his public display of affection.

          “Joy stays with her parents in Mir Var during weekends,” he explained to me while wrapping an arm around her. “She usually meets me here on Monday, just in time for work, then I’ll be sending her off on Fridays. It is, after all, our first one, you know. Her mum’s better suited than I am in looking after her.” He glanced meaningfully at Joy’s stomach. “Besides, she’s always pining for her mum’s cooking.”

          “Are you…” I began confusedly, only then taking in her slightly protruding abdomen. “I mean, how many months along are you?”

          “Four months,” replied Ari proudly.

          “Five months, to be exact,” corrected Joy, looking up at Ari.

          “Well, it was four months last week,” Ari commented dourly. His wife answered him with a slight laugh and a pinch on his cheek, and he broke out into smiles again.

          “Do you work together?” I asked inquisitively.

          “No,” replied Joy with a slight smile. “I work at this travel agency not far from the Maribou Army Camp. My mom usually drives me here on Mondays then he’ll drop me off on his way to work. By the way, sorry I didn’t visit you in the hospital, Azure. Certain smells, for example hospital antiseptic, still makes me nauseous, and I didn’t want to get sick when I visited you.”

          “I’ve been telling her she should rest often, and shouldn’t be working hard in her condition,” complained Ari. “But, no, she claims she’s a modern woman and deserves her own career and her own life.”

          “Hey, the last trimester is still some time away,” laughed Joy. “I’ll take things easy then.”

          “Anyway,” Ari must have noted my dumbfounded expression because he was being very explanatory. “I live here during weekends. During weekdays, I go back to our house on Maribou Hill.”

          “So, have you packed your things already, honey?” asked Joy.

          “It’s upstairs,” Ari replied. “I’ll go get it. You want a drink or something? Otherwise, just wait in the car.” To me, he turned and bid me farewell. “You’ll be coming to the camp with Henri later on, right? Well, we’ll see each other then.”

          “Right,” I nodded, waving to both of them. “Bye-bye!” I watched them disappear out the door then let out a sigh as I sank back onto my seat.

          “Very lovey-dovey,” Henri’s voice commented. “It used to irritate me at first, but now I’m used to it.” I turned and saw he was sitting on Skye’s seat next to me. The dining room was empty aside from the two of us.

          “You never told me I had a car,” I hissed, leaning toward him with both elbows fixed on the table.

         He looked at me and answered calmly, “Well, I seem to have assumed wrongly that you would have guessed that one out on your own.”

          “And why is that?” I insisted.

          “Well, cars are an important mode of transportation,” he elaborated, shrugging. “Everybody has cars nowadays.”

          “But what kind of car is it?” I pressed him, realizing suddenly that if I had been rich enough to own my own horse, property and expensive items, it’d only make sense for me to have my own car as well.

          “Well,” Henri began. “It’s a rather old model of the Revival Bug.”

          “What?” I asked, thinking I was not hearing correctly. “What would I be doing with an old obsolete car?”

          “It is rather old,” admitted Henri. “And it is rather rare to find roadworthy models nowadays, due mainly to maintenance issues. But obsolete, no, not yet, by a far chance. Why did you choose to buy it in the first place, you say? Hmm, it’s just your taste, I guess. You’ve always liked vintage stuff.”

          “No, I do not,” I insisted. “I like things modern and simple.”

          “Hey, just look at your room,” Henri snorted. “It’s anything but modern and simple.”

          “And that’s exactly what’s wrong with it,” I said passionately. “Do you know how painful it is to be greeted by the sight of nothing but boring beiges and browns every morning?”

         Henri stared thoughtfully at ranting me for a while before answering, “Gee, I didn’t realize it would tick you off this much. Didn’t you like it? And if you’re so uncomfortable with it, why didn’t you say so? We did help decorate your room just before you came back. Granted, a hundred per cent of the furniture were yours to begin with, but the positioning and renovation designs were all our own. So come on, let’s go check this room of yours and see whether any makeovers are necessary.”

         He pulled me to my feet and curtly passed me my crutches. I limped after him awkwardly, not exactly knowing the proper thing to say. In the end, my dim-witted mouth started to automatically spew out an assortment of complaints and grievances which surfaced since I came back, everything from the room and Skye’s bossiness to Midnight and Penny’s sarcasm. Deep down inside, I felt a little ashamed of myself for belittling their obvious effort to welcome me home, but it was a little too late to take back my words. He remained quiet through this one-sided tirade until we came to the foot of the stairs, where he helped me with the stair-lift.

          “I really like your shirt,” I complimented him sincerely as he arranged my feet on the footrest and held on to my crutches for me. He was wearing a blue checkered shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and ends tucked into his blue jeans. I thought the shirt brought out the sparkle in his turquoise eyes. “At first I thought you were working today like the others were. I mean, because of your shirt.”

          “Whether I’m on leave or not,” he explained patiently, “it doesn’t matter if I wear a shirt whenever I feel like it. Unless of course you prefer me to be shirtless. Is that it?”

          “Hey, that was a genuine compliment, believe it or not,” I told him defensively, thinking he was being silly. “No offense, OK?”

          “None taken,” he replied.

         Once we reached the second floor and he was about to head to the front door of my room, I stopped him.

          “Why?” he inquired, looking back at me from over his shoulder.

          “Because I locked the door,” I explained sheepishly. “And I don’t have the front door key. I went out through the back door, walked the length of the balcony, then went through Skye’s back door with Skye, and we finally went out through her front door.”

         He shook his head, amused. “Did you by any chance lock your back door, too?”

          “Yes,” I replied, then fished out the key from the right pocket of my baby blue jeans. “Here. See?”

          “You shouldn’t have locked the door,” he criticized, walking ahead. I followed, though not exactly sure where he was leading me. “I’m sure you’ve noticed there are security cameras everywhere, and the security room below is manned 24/7. Besides, here we all trust each other. All staff members have been working here since Skye first came, and she can easily vouch for their honesty. Did you notice Skye locking her door this morning?”

          “No,” I admitted truthfully. Then, when I saw him put his hand on the doorjamb a few doors down from my room, I called out, “What’re you doing?”

          “Going to my room, of course,” he replied, a little surprised. He turned the doorjamb and pushed the door open. “You weren’t thinking of going through Skye’s room to reach the balcony, did you? Personally, I wouldn’t feel good doing it without the owner’s permission, even if she happens to be my good friend.”

         I laughed nervously, a little offended by his choice of words. “Of course not.”

          “Then, come on in,” he invited, gesturing me to enter his room.

          “But I have nothing against you or any others using my room if I’m not around,” I managed to add as I walked in and quickly discovered that his room was slightly smaller than mine. There was a study desk with a glass tabletop cluttered with official-looking documents on one side of the wall. A PC as well as a telephone lay on top of it. Like my room, his also had a fireplace, refrigerator, walk-in closet but with transparent glass doors and the likes, and because of its positioning, I assumed the door next to the fireplace led to the bathroom. Nevertheless, unlike mine, his furniture was mostly modern and light.

         As I walked past, I noticed that his untidy bed, strewn all over with clothes, was a wall-bed flanked by a cabinet on each side for more space efficiency. I sighed, for he evidently acted as if nothing was wrong with his room being in such disarray, and I realized that it would stay like that till almost noon when the housekeeping staff began to make room calls.

          “Through here,” he told me in an unperturbed manner, striding over to the doors leading to the balcony and flinging them open.

          We went out to the spacious white balcony. He immediately steered in the direction of my bedroom but stopped short when I asked him to halt.

          “What is it this time?” he groaned impatiently, and retraced his steps to stand beside me, arms akimbo.

          “Look,” I pointed toward the back of the mansion. “Isn’t that Skye? What’s she doing here still? And who’s that guy with her?”

         Henri walked to the balustrade and scrutinized the two figures down below. “That’s Dark,” he told me. “Skye’s husband.”

          “Skye’s what?” I sputtered furiously. “Are there any more spouses that you guys have forgotten to tell me? You are still a bachelor, aren’t you? And Penny?”

          “Yes, we’re still unmarried,” Henri replied, unruffled. “And stop mentioning Penny’s name in conjunction with mine. I don’t like it.”

          “Well, surprise,” I almost yelled at him. “I don’t like it either when you guys conveniently think I remember everything and ignore to tell me the important facts!”

         He stared at me while I paused for breath, wheezing slightly, my face red. “Had enough?” he finally asked me. By this time I had already begun to cool down somewhat. “Want to let your anger out on me some more?”

          “What’s the use,” I said bitterly. “Nobody tells me anything.”

          “People only tell you what they want you to know,” he confided in me, wrapping one comforting arm around my shoulders. I rested against him and shut my eyes, feeling the bitterness melt away. “Isn’t that a fact of life? When people discovered you had amnesia, they must have realized, consciously or otherwise, that they could be selective in determining what to tell you and what to hold back.”

          “But it’s so unfair,” I protested, lightly punching his chest with my fists.

          “Well, life isn’t exactly a bed of roses,” he remarked philosophically. After a while, he let go of me, and I went to lean against the balustrade to watch the couple below.

          “Hey,” I suddenly exclaimed. “They seem to be fighting!”

          “Now you know why she didn’t tell you about her marriage,” Henri said, glancing lazily at the two, then added, “and why she never bothered to bring him to visit you at the hospital.”

          “Are they always like this?” I asked curiously, noticing that even from this distance I could make out Dark's unmistakably handsome sharp features and fair pale skin that made his cropped-short jet-black hair stand out more prominently. Skye and him made a striking couple, no doubt about it. But their relationship still seemed to have a lot of room for improvement. Even at that moment, Skye was laying a hand on his arm as if pleading to him, but he merely brushed it aside and started bickering again. We were too far from them to hear what they were discussing, though.

          “I’ve seen a lot of married couples disagree,” Henri commented. “I think it happens a lot in marital relationships. But then, I wouldn’t know.” He then went to pull my arm. “OK, that’s enough for now. Let’s go! We’ll just give them some privacy, OK? We’ve got better things to do than watch this sorry soap opera anyway.”

         I took one sad final glimpse of Skye sinking down to the grass in despair as the proud Dark turned his back on her and walked away. “OK,” I said. Then I, too, turned and shuffled away after Henri.

 

 

11) The Basketball Match

 

         In my room, Henri helped me go through my closet where we found an assortment of wide beautiful cloths, all of them in various cooling shades of blue, and most were of either checkered or floral design. At first, I was baffled as to what he had in mind. In the end, he explained that I had previously used them as furniture coverings and proceeded to demonstrate that by flapping one and letting it settle on the leather sofa. He ended up blanketing most of my furniture, like the study desk and bookcase, with blue cloths, good-naturedly agreeable to my request. I was extremely delighted by the results.

          “Satisfied now?” he had asked fairly anxiously after storing unused cloths back in the closet.

          “Much!” I had replied enthusiastically and appreciatively.

          “So now, are you sure you’re strong enough for a drive?” he asked for the umpteenth time that day.

          “Yes!” I responded, more enthusiastically than before.

         Afterward, we had a simple lunch of bread dipped constantly into a bowl of chicken broth and warm milk. Despite my unwillingness, Henri forced the medicine, minus the one that made me drowsy, down my throat. He later took me to the garage where I took my own sweet time ogling at the fleet of sports cars and antiques. He briefly pointed out which cars belonged to whom, while I oohed and aahed without really comprehending him.

          “And this one is yours,” he finally said, using his long index finger to point at the car at the very end of the garage. The vehicle was an old, dusty yellow Revival T32910 model, also known as the Revival Bug because of its supposedly cute rounded shape. I merely stared at it in dismay. I didn’t need to be told that the car was too new to be a valuable antique, and too old to be of much value then.

          “Surely I have another car inside here somewhere?” I jested, hoping that it was true.

          “Nope,” said Henri, patting the car’s hood. Grey particles swirled from beneath his hands and danced in the sunbeam streaming through a narrow strip of window nearby. He interestedly used a finger to make patterns in the dust. “This is all there is.”

          “Hey, I have a great idea,” I said brightly. “Why don’t we take your car to the army camp instead? Where is it? I’d love to see it!”

         He looked up at me with a serious look on his face. “I already told you, it’s in the workshop. I’m having it overhauled. I’ve only been an official Fighter for about a year or so now, and spent the first few years undergoing tough training. I don’t have much money to spend on cars like you guys do."

          “I’m sorry,” I muttered sheepishly, giving myself a mental kick for thoughtlessly bringing up an awkward subject. “It’s just that this car doesn’t look like it’s got its engine warmed up very often. Do you think it can still start?”

          “We’ll never know unless we do it,” he commented wisely. He took out the car keys from his shirt pocket and pried the door open with obvious effort. When he finally had it opened, the musty air from inside hit my nose and made me sneeze non-stop till my eyes turned red and my nose started running. He passed me a thankfully clean handkerchief to use and attempted to start the car. It took him about ten attempts before he finally gave up and began hunting for what I referred to as an alligator-clip wire. I later found out that it was a jumper cable.

          “What are you doing?” I mumbled, blowing my nose.

          “I’m going to jump-start your car,” he explained. “See? I’ve started Penny’s Red Retro – she always forgets to take her keys off the ignition, see? - and connected her battery to yours. Just give me a minute and your engine will be running again.” He went back into the Buggy and turned the key in the ignition again. This time the car roared to life and I gave a cheer as Henri pushed the gas pedal on intervals, turning the roar into a crescendo again and again.

          “So, can I get in now?” I asked, eager to try out the car. It was mine after all.

          “Uh, I think you’d better wait,” he answered, looking a little flustered. He let the engine idle, went over to Penny’s red car to turn the engine off, detached and returned the wire to the shelf nearby, then used the remote control to open the garage door. He then told me, “I’m gonna take your car out now. I think you’d better follow on foot.”

         He carefully drove the car out and stopped, waiting for me to hobble out the door before closing it again. I leaned against the garage wall and discovered what he meant to do. He had taken a hose connected to a tap nearby and began to hose the car down. Then he took a rag he had previously taken from inside the garage, wet it with the hose, wrung it till it stopped dripping, then used it to wipe the interior. Each time the rag turned impossibly black with grime, he washed it with water and repeated the process all over again.

         In the end, he hung the washed rag out to dry, wiped off the perspiration from his face and told me, “Get in, Azure, or we’ll be late for the game.”

          “I think you’d better change first,” I said, pointing toward his rear end.

          “Eh?” He was puzzled until he twisted his head back and saw that his rump was grimy black. Then he looked down at his grimy hands and dirty fingernails. “Oh, no! I’ve got to go up and change!”

          “Do I have time to change, too?” I asked hopefully. The bright tropical afternoon sun had made me perspire, too, and my shirt did not feel dry nor comfortable.

          “No time, no time,” disputed Henri hastily, dashing toward the mansion. He managed to turn and look back at me while he sprinted across the grass, hollering, “You’d better wait for me in the car, Azure! And turn on the air conditioning!”

         I followed his advice, throwing my crutches onto the backseat, jumping onto the front passenger seat, turning on the air conditioner at full blast and turning the radio on for company. About fifteen minutes later, Henri reappeared, puffing like a dragon. I saw that he had changed into a lemon yellow collared T-shirt and smart dark jeans. I thought he looked cute, matching the color of the car.

         He slid into the driver’s seat and revved the engine up. Then, looking backward while casually resting his arm on top of my headrest, he reversed the car in one swift sweeping motion on the steering wheel. With pebbles flying from under the squealing back tires and black soot spurting out from the mouth of the exhaust pipe, he pressed the pedal down hard and off we shot down the driveway toward our destination.

         About fifteen minutes after we sped by the security checkpoint at the mansion’s main gate, we noticed smoke coming out from under the engine hood. Slowly, despite Henri pressing his foot down firmly onto the gas pedal, the car’s speed dwindled until it came to a complete stop on one side of the narrow lane.

          “Drat,” moaned Henri, resting his head against the motor horn affixed to the steering wheel and making a wild honking sound blare out. “And I forgot to bring my cell phone!” I saw birds fly off, frightened, leaving the heavy branches overhead swinging with the momentum. I looked all around the heavily wooded area and was glad the leafy branches protected me from the sun, still shining bright at this late afternoon hour. But that also meant help was too far away as we were miles from civilization.


          “What are we going to do?” I turned to Henri, believing he could see the problem through. “I didn’t bring mine either.”

         Instead of answering, Henri glanced at his wristwatch and cursed under his breath. “It’s five o’clock already! We’ll never make it on time!” Then he gave me a sidelong look and quietly asked me, “Did you turn the radio on way before I got in the car and started driving?”

          “Y-yes,” I stammered, owning up. “I thought it was OK.”

          “Great,” he commented sarcastically, this time resting his head gently against the steering wheel so that the horn wouldn’t sound. “Just great.” He remained like that for a few seconds, then he slowly opened the door and climbed out, stretching his limbs. “Guess I’d better locate the problem, huh?” He went to the front of the car and asked me to open the car hood. I reached over and pressed the button under the steering wheel and saw him raising the steel frontage, smoke spewing out all the thicker.

          “You OK?” I hollered at him through the rolled-down window. I couldn’t see him from my vantage point, but I could hear him coughing and tinkering with the engine. “Need any help?”

          “Nah, it’s OK,” came his muffled reply. After some time, he walked up to me and leaned against my side of the door, shoulders heaving. He wiped his perspiring face with the back of his hand. When he turned to face me, I was amused to discover that his face was covered with grimy streaks. “The battery water is all dried up,” he told me frankly. “And there’s a loose wire somewhere in there.”

          “Shall we try walking back to the security post?” I proposed, eyes wide with dismay.

          “What?” He poked his head in through the window and pointed at my feet. “Sorry to be brusque, but with those legs? No, dear, I don’t think I can carry you that far, either. And letting you stay here alone while I go get help is too risky. I guess I’ll just rummage in the trunk at the back and see what I can find.”

          “Good luck,” I called out to his disappearing back. I pulled the lever beneath the driver’s seat at his request and the trunk lid popped open. Bored with nothing to do, I slapped at the few mosquitoes biting my arm, then opened the door, took out the crutches and found Henri stooped at the back of the car.

          “Look what I found,” he finally cried out jubilantly, straightening up and holding a bottle of battery water and a white plastic canister of mineral water as well as a pencil torchlight in each hand. Then he rushed toward the engine.

         I followed him, and watched silently as he poured all the guzzling water from the bottle into the battery, one hole at a time. Then he refilled the water tank and took out the torchlight while passing it to me to hold. I used it to illuminate the engine parts, dark under the shade of thick green leaves.

         “Aha!” he suddenly exclaimed, taking the loose wire and plugging it into its appropriate place. Still holding the wire, he turned to me and asked, “You got anything I can tie this up with temporarily? Wire? Tape?”

          “You know, funny that you asked,” I replied, taking down the hair band I had earlier on used to tie my hair up and putting it onto his outstretched hand. Granted, my current hair level had only managed to reach the nape of my neck. Besides, I normally had no need nor the appropriate length of hair to tie up with, for my hair had always grown at a snail’s pace. But as the afternoon had been exceptionally warm today, I had gone ahead and tied up a small tuft of hair so that it would be lifted away from my perspiring neck.

         He used the band to tie the wire more securely then looked at me, eyes twinkling impishly. “What were you using this for anyway? You don’t have hair!”

          “Funny har har,” I replied sarcastically. He laughed, shut the car hood down and walked toward the back of the car. I followed, switching off the torchlight and returned it to him. He took the plastic canister, twisted the cap off and poured some of the water it contained onto his hands. I used the same water to wet the handkerchief he had given me earlier on and told him to be still while I cleaned his face with it.

          “Ugh,” he said, making a face, but standing otherwise motionless. “You’re using the same hanky you used to wipe your nose with on my face? Gross!”

          “Shut up,” I said sternly, dabbing at his face even harder. “I only used it to cover my nose to stop myself from sneezing. You saw me.”

          “How could I see what you were doing when you had your face covered?” he gave a logical question. Angry, I rubbed him even more furiously, and he yelped, “Ouch! Watch it!”

         The car started without problem after that, and Henri tore like a maniac down the narrow forest lane. We finally reached the army camp at 5.40 p.m. and Henri led the way to the indoor basketball court, all the while hurrying me along. We entered the building and found Skye already waiting for us under a flight of stairs. Was she psychic or what? I wondered as she and Henri propped me up and helped me climb up the stairs to reach the audience seats on the first ground.

         When we finally went in through the door, a great din welcomed us and many people were cheering and applauding and jumping up and down enthusiastically. The air in the big room crackled with excitement and tension and everyone seemed caught up in the furor. I glanced at the digital scoreboard, found that the soldiers were leading 55 to 54.

         As we made our way down to the first row where the others had saved our seats, with Penny and Ari looking back and waving at us excitedly, much to the chagrin of the people behind them, I heard Henri comment under his breath, “The game’s gonna turn very soon.” I followed his field of vision and made out Qit and Que discussing something with their three teammates. When they saw us waving at them, Que automatically waved back in reply, a huge smile breaking on his face, while Qit looked up from where he stooped and raised one hand up from his knee to wave to us. All the players on the court seemed exhausted and fatigued already.

         Ari and Penny squeezed further in to make space for us, with Penny asking us what took us so long and explaining that the commandos had just scored a three-pointer just before we came in and that Qit and Que already had four fouls each against them, and Ari asking everybody to hush and concentrate on the last four minutes of the game.

         In front of us, the game started again with high speed and intensity. All ten players seemed to play with reckless abandon, giving it all their heart and spirit, even though they were evidently tired out. Henri was pointing out who was playing what position, which frankly resulted in confusing me even more. He also kept whispering commentaries on what was happening down below on the court, as if I wasn’t there to witness it all firsthand, and I patiently listened, tight-lipped, gripping the edges of my seat nervously as I watched them play.

         There were many botched attempts from both sides, and each time the opposing team failed to score a point I heaved a sigh of relief, and each time they prevented the twins’ team from scoring, I cursed at them for being vindictive barbarians. Like everybody else around me, I was glued to the seat, watching breathlessly as the four minutes stretched out like eternity.

         During the first minute, the opposing team almost threw in another three-pointer but Qit leapt into the air just in time. Though he didn’t manage to grab the ball, his hand grazed the ball and though it soared on toward the hoop, it bounced off at the final instant. Seizing the rebound was one from the opposition who Penny kept referring to as her “hunky dream guy”. He attempted what Henri informed me as a “slam-dunk”, but screwed up when blocked by Qit’s muscular build and Que’s leaner but equally tall frame.

         The second minute witnessed Qit getting the ball, and he passed it to a relatively undersized teammate who had wings on his feet and effortlessly sped by giant opposing players in a blur. At the outer edge of the ring, he paused, his stance revealing that he was about to attempt a three-pointer, too. But three mean-faced soldiers came out of nowhere to block him, and he feigned a move as if to shoot for the hoop. The soldiers fell for it, and he nimbly passed the ball from behind to waiting Que’s outstretched hands.

         Que also tried to score a three-pointer but his ball was deftly knocked from his hands by an opposing muscle-bound fella while he was aiming for the shot. Que, Qit and their teammates glanced at the referee but he evidently thought the ball had left Que’s hands when it was knocked down and refused to blow the whistle. Angered and disgruntled, they had no choice but to go back and focus on the game.

         In the third minute, everybody in the audience went into fervor, chanting out supportively to their favorite teams. I myself was leaning forward, raptly watching the game with unblinking eyes. On the court down below, the chants seemed to energize the tired players and lifted their spirits up. Though drenched with sweat, their eyes shone bright with excitement and anticipation.

         Mr. Hunky Dream Guy, guarded by a stern-faced Qit, bounded up under the hoop and tried to penetrate Que and a teammate’s wall defense. Que and Qit kept foiling his efforts until they finally knocked the ball away from Mr. Dream Guy’s slippery-with-sweat hands.

         In the last minute, with only about fifteen seconds to spare, Que somehow managed to grab hold of the ball and began to dash across the court, dribbling furiously as he ran. Qit raced on ahead and waited eagerly under the loop, outstretched hands ready to grab the ball. Seeing this, Mr. Hunky Dream Guy and friends went between the brothers as an invincible brick wall.

         While Que continued to dribble at the spot where he stood, deliberating on the next course of action, all of us stood up and chanted out his name, willing him to take the next move, willing him to win.

         Out of the blue, the swift little guy came up to Que and gestured for him to pass the ball. Que, noticing that the guy was not covered by the opposition, nodded and threw the ball at him. The guy, seeing the taller broad-shouldered opposition coming in to pounce on him, not leaving him much room to maneuver, feinted a throw, then passed swiftly to Qit who was suddenly free. Qit jumped high, slightly backward at a slanting angle, his back arched, his hands poised for the final throw.

         All of a sudden, Mr. Hunky Dream Guy, who had anticipated the little guy’s fake, leapt into the air in front of Qit, hands spread out above his head to stop the ball. But Qit, who had also read earlier on the opposing player’s intention, responded accordingly by coolly passing the ball in mid-jump to his twin who stood ready beside him.

         Que caught the ball neatly in both hands while the audience gasped and chanted even louder. He barged his way toward the loop, leapt high up in the air at the same time two of the opposing members blocking his way did, too, evaded their extended arms somehow, and the ball was forced down the loophole as the crowd roared in thunderous applause mixed with disbelief. I cheered so hard my voice went hoarse, grinning proudly from ear to ear as Que the finisher gripped onto the hoop and hung there for a moment before letting go and landing on his feet on the floor below. Henri managed to find the time to inform me what Que’s act had been in basketball slang, but I was past caring by then and let the cheers of the crowd drown him out.

 

 

12) Re-introduction

 

         We raced downstairs, with me limping the best I could with my arms supported by the able-bodied Ari and Henri, as fast as we could. We threw open the doors to the basketball court on the ground floor just in time to witness the two teams lining up and shaking hands with each other, one group excited, the other looking rather morose. We waited for them to finish before walking up to congratulate the twins, with eager Penny leading the way.

         Que was the first to turn and greet us with a wide beaming smile and a triumphant laugh. He ran toward us with hands outstretched as if to hug Penny, and Penny held out a hand to stop him.

          “Oh, phew,” she protested. “You’re dripping with sweat! Go and wipe yourself down with something first before you hug any one of us.”

          “People don’t sweat,” Que gasped in reply, hands resting on his knees. I saw that his sleeveless T-shirt was drenched thoroughly and some beads of perspiration were actually dripping off his face and onto the floor. “We perspire.”

          “Excellent play,” congratulated Skye as Qit ambled exhaustedly up to her and they both exchanged enthusiastic high-fives. She then stooped down to unzip the sports bag she was carrying and threw a towel and a bottle of mineral water to each brother.

          “She’s sort of their unofficial manager,” explained Penny in a whisper.

          “How was the play, Azure?” asked Que, throwing then draping his towel around his shoulders and taking a swig of the bottled water.

          “He was afraid you wouldn’t come,” huffed Qit in elaboration as he sauntered up to me.

          “We almost didn’t make it,” I answered with a laugh. “The car broke down, but luckily Hen was around to fix the problem.”

          “Yeah,” agreed Henri. “But we’ve gotta send the car to the workshop very soon. There’s no idea till when it will behave.”

          “How are you feeling now?” Que asked concernedly.

          “I’m much better now – can’t you see? And your game was simply superb,” I exclaimed, thumping Que on the back. He choked a little and I saw his red face turn redder. “I’m sorry we missed most of the game. We managed to catch the final few minutes, though, and I personally think you guys did great!”

          “Yeah, well,” shrugged Qit offhandedly. “It’s just a friendly match after all, but we’ve got to convince them that we’re no bunch of wimps.”

          “I think you proved your point already,” noted Penny softly, watching the five opposing team members, led by Mr. Hunky Dream Guy, walking glumly in the direction of their locker room.

          “Hey,” yelled Ari suddenly. “This calls for a celebration! Let’s go to the Pizza Palless tonight!”

          “Let’s!” the group yelled unanimously in reply. I myself nodded my agreement, eager to go to a fast food restaurant after my long stint at the hospital.

          “Hey, Newcomer,” I ignored the grating voice over my shoulder, forgetting that the nickname belonged to me, before the voice rasped out my actual name, startling me slightly in the process. “Azure, how have you been?” I turned around, and came face to face with the speedy little man, his wet brown hair matted against his head. “Congratulations. I heard you’ve just been discharged from hospital. But say, you do look different from before. Must have been the long hospital stay.”

          “Uh, thanks,” I managed to mumble in reply, shaking his proffered hand, warm and damp, hesitantly. “Congratulations to you, too, for a game well-played.”

          “This man here is Ryo Reran a.k.a. Greased Lightning,” introduced Henri, putting an arm around the grinning man who shared the same height as me. I had a feeling that Henri had his reasons for introducing us. One was probably to remind me that I had previously been well acquainted with this guy. The other was to inform Ryo that I had lost my memory and warn him to mind his words. “We used to work together in the Ministry of Defense, same as Bulk and Beatnik over there.” The two tall guys he had gestured to came forward and shyly said hello.

          “Well, it’s nice meeting you,” smiled Ryo as he steered the other two toward the door leading to their locker room. On the way out, the three exchanged jubilant high-fives with Que and Qit. “Great game, compatriots! We were victorious! And we really showed those commandos we’re made of sterner stuff. But ‘nuff said; we’ve got to go.” Turning back toward me, he yelled out, “Take care now! Hope to see you soon!”

          “Bye!” I waved at his disappearing back.

         In the midst of friendly banter going on around me, I glimpsed somebody catching up with Skye and involving her in a seemingly intense conversation. He had his back turned toward me, and despite my better judgment, I walked up to the duo and stood behind them, waiting for Skye to notice me and introduce us.

         She finally noticed me and beckoned me to come nearer. I came closer but when the man opposite her swung around and recognition dawned on my face, my instinct to back away came too late.

          “Azure,” she called out to me, her tone curiously diffident, gesturing toward the man standing beside her. “This is my husband, Dark. Dark, you remember Azure, don’t you?”

         Not knowing what to do, I saw his hand coming toward me and offered mine in return. But instead of a handshake, Dark demurely brought my hand up to his lips for a soft lingering kiss. I heard the others turn deathly silent around me as I myself stood there, frozen, not truly believing nor comprehending what was going on. Slowly, Dark lifted his face and his brilliant dark eyes held mine in a mesmerizing gaze.

          “H-how do you do?” I managed to stammer in the end, but had no energy to pull my limp hand away from his cool strong grasp. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

          “The pleasure’s all mine,” he whispered in my ear, his hand still holding onto mine, pulling me closer against my will. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were out of the hospital, or I would have come visit you at once.”

          “Whoa, wait a minute,” Que suddenly roared, coming between us and forcefully pulled our hands apart. Upon disengaging my hand from Dark’s, I suddenly felt as if my world was spinning and almost fell down to the ground had Que not grabbed me protectively. “What on earth do you think you’re doing, coming onto her like that?”

         Dark’s reply was a mere stare.

          “I think you’d better leave,” Penny was telling Dark, but hot-tempered Que pushed her aside.

          “You’d better go back to that hell-hole you just crawled out from,” he shouted.

          “I have no time for young upstarts,” was Dark’s gruff answer as he curtly turned and walked away.

          “At least take your wife with you,” hollered Que angrily, his hands still gripping my shoulders as Dark unperturbedly went toward the door.

          “That’s enough, Que,” said Qit quietly, putting a restraining hand on his younger brother’s shaking shoulder. Que’s rage subsided and we all watched silently as Dark walked out the door, his face calm and unconcerned. Qit then let go of Que and I turned around to watch him put a sympathetic hand out instead to a tearful Skye.

         All of a sudden, I felt bad and more than slightly embarrassed. I felt that I shouldn’t have extended my hand out in the first place, and felt that what had transpired was partly my fault. I prayed that the ground would split up and swallow me whole, but it stayed as it was.

          “Tell you what,” said Ari brightly, breaking the awkward silence. “Henri, you said something’s wrong with Azure’s car. I’ll go get the tow truck and take it to the nearest workshop. Ask the others; see if they can offer you a lift home.” Henri threw the car keys to him and he abruptly waved goodbye then made for the door.

          “I’ll take Skye home, then,” Qit offered in a whisper meant not to be heard by the person concerned. “I don’t think she can drive in this condition. We’ll just leave her car here. She can come get it tomorrow if she wants. Que?”

          “Oh,” Que started, meeting Qit’s meaningful gaze. Qit also waved goodbye and steered poor Skye out the door. Que in the meantime turned toward me and told me not to take heart. “Oh, yeah,” he added nonchalantly. “And what if I drove you home, Azure? I’ll just take a minute and then I’ll be ready.”

          “I’ll come with you,” Henri volunteered, looking at Que, even though nobody had asked him.

         Que gave him a funny kind of look before answering, “I’m sorry, but there’s not enough room for three in my Z-Star.”

         Henri walked up to Que and I heard him whisper slyly in Que’s ear, “Admit it: you planned this from the start, didn’t you?”

         Que just stared at Henri with big incredulous eyes and gave what was supposed to be an innocent laugh. “Whatever do you mean?”

          “All right, Henri.” Seeing that the others were otherwise preoccupied, Penny had relented. “I’ve decided: you can come with me.”

          “Oh, bother,” Henri rolled his eyes up desperately. Then he turned to face Que. “You sure there’s no room in your car? In the trunk, even?” Then he turned his big doleful eyes at me and pleaded, “Please help, Azure. Talk Que into it. Please?”

         To this, Penny boxed his ears soundly, chiding him, “Don’t you know a dozen men would have died to be in your place? Think about it. Think how lucky you are to be the recipient of my compassion. Now, you just wait here while I go get the car, OK? I’ll be right back.”

         She left us and Que also did the same, asking me to wait with Henri on the bench nearby. He jogged toward the locker room, and Henri and I went to sit on the bench.

          “Does Penny often talk like that?” I asked curiously, slouching down, elbows on my knees supporting my chin.

          “Sometimes,” Henri confided. “But most times she can talk her head off, and when it happens, man, is it scary.”

          “But she is very pretty,” I observed shrewdly.

          “Yes, she is,” Henri answered, snickering. “Pretty talkative.”

          “No,” I said, not entirely understanding why I was getting irritated with his dim-witted replies. “What I mean is, have you noticed how men gape at her whenever she walks by?”

         Henri kept quiet before answering, “I’ve seen lots of men do that to Skye, though.”

         I sighed in exasperation and moved on to another subject, “Have you noticed how Que is different from most men?"

          “How so?” Henri raised an eyebrow up interestedly.

          “Well, like he’s so particular about hygiene when most men I know seldom do. Even Qit has gone off with Skye without changing first.”

          “For somebody fresh out of hospital, you sure are observant,” was all Henri complained, putting both hands behind his head and rocking to and fro.

          “But I sure hope Skye’s alright,” I prayed loudly.

          “She’ll be OK soon,” promised Henri.
          “How can you be so sure?” I countered, not entirely convinced.

          “Well, it’s happened before,” was all he said back.

          “What do you mean, it has happened before?” I pressured him.

          “Well, I guess when the proper time comes, Skye will decide when to sit down and have a girl-to-girl talk with you,” he gave a highly probable answer. “Then all will be revealed to your teeny weenie mind.”

          “I don’t have a teeny weenie mind,” I roared, swiping at him with both hands. He nimbly moved out of the way before any hit could land on him.

          “Really?” he asked back. “I thought when they performed brain surgery on you it was either because your brain cells were mightily depleted and needed to be refilled, or that you had lost the brain completely.”

          “I only lost my memory, you dope!” I lunged at him, and again he dodged easily. “Idiot! Imbecile! Dodo!”

          “Cat got your tongue?” he asked cheekily when I paused for breath. “Or have you run out of vocabulary already?”

          “Argh,” I gritted my teeth and gave up on him. I instead took a while to reflect on his words earlier on, then remembering Dark’s biting remark to Que’s outburst, asked, “By the way, how old is Dark exactly?”

          “Fifty something, I think,” answered Henri seriously.

         I stared at him and prepared to punch his shoulder. “Stop pulling my leg! He looks just about our age!”

         He avoided the punch easily and replied earnestly, “I’m not. Why don’t you go ask Skye if you don’t believe me?”

          “OK, I will,” I replied tartly, taking up his dare, still unconvinced that youthful-looking Dark was fifty.

          “OK then,” he said, evidently bored with the subject. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the enigmatic Dark and this prompted several questions to surface.

          “How come he doesn’t take better care of Skye?” I finally asked him. “Doesn’t he realize he’s lucky to have her? And why is he such a horny old goat?”

         Henri moaned exasperatedly and asked me back, “Look, why don’t you drop this accursed Dark subject for a change?”

          “But why should I?” I asked again innocently.

          “Because,” he sighed, “you’re beginning to give me the impression that you’re interested in your own twin’s husband.”

         I stared at him for a while before replying, “Skye’s not my real twin.”

          “See?” Henri smacked his forehead in agitation. “What did I tell you? Stop talking about him, period. You’re only going to make it appear as if you’re the one chasing him. You wanna cause total havoc?”

          “I’m sorry,” I whispered softly, afraid I had hurt his feelings. He turned his back on me and merely grunted. “I don’t mean to wreck Skye’s marriage, or anybody else’s for that matter. I’m just curious, that’s all. It’s not like I’m after Dark or anything.”

          “And out of curiosity also,” Henri questioned, turning again to look at me. “Let me ask you this: what happened just now? Why didn’t you let go of his hand? Can you imagine how Skye must’ve felt?”

          “I-I,” I was flustered, unable to answer. “I don’t know.”

         Again he snorted and turned away from me.

         I felt ashamed, but pushed on, “It’s just that when he touched my hand, I felt all tingly inside. Hmm. That’s the best description I can come up with. And when he gazed at me I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. It was almost like his eyes were, I don’t know, hypnotic or something. Don’t laugh. I know it might sound corny but it’s true!”

          “I believe you,” Henri seemed to have suddenly acquired a headache and was frowning and massaging his temples at the same time. “What I tell you now might disturb you, heck, it might even scare the wits out of you. But I want you to be more careful, Azure. Seems he’s not satisfied with getting his hands on only one twin. I’m afraid he might be after you. From what you described just now, I think he might have just used a spell on you.”

          “What?” I whirled around indignantly. “Stop it, Hen! I don’t like being made fun of!”

          “But I’m not,” replied Henri gravely. “Listen to me, Azure; hark my words. Dark is bad news; don’t even touch him with a meter-long pole if you can. I think Skye might’ve found this out a little too late. Whatever you do, don’t let him take a hold of you. He’s dabbled in magic before, and in your present weakened state, I doubt you can protect yourself from him using the proper spells.”

          “You’re right, you’re really beginning to scare me,” I told him, eyes wide. He merely shrugged indifferently. “But tell me one thing: what made Skye say yes to him? When he proposed, I mean? Did he truly love her at all? And did he have a thing for me in the past?”

          “You said you were only going to ask one question,” complained Henri. He opened his mouth to speak but the sight of something made him quickly snap shut again.

         For Que had chosen that moment to walk in on us, whistling cheerfully and asking us where Penny was. A second later, the lady herself appeared, telling Henri her car was idling outside.

          “Azure, I bumped into Ari just now,” mentioned Penny. “He asked me to tell you that everything’s settled and not to worry about your car. Oh, and Que,” she added as an afterthought, winking meaningfully at Que. “He said to tell you that the party is on tonight at the Pizza Palless, and that he expects to see you there at 8.30 sharp.”

          “Tell him we’ll be there,” replied Que confidently, adjusting the strap of his small sports bag on one shoulder. And to me, he smiled and said, “Come, Azure. I’ll show you to the car.”

 

 

13) An Evening Out

 

         All four of us walked out together. Que and I waved to Penny and Henri as they entered Penny’s metallic silver Thunderclap, then we slowly made our way to the parking lot at the back of the building.

         Along the way, I couldn’t help but notice that Que was clad in a light blue checkered shirt and a pair of khakis that looked good on him in a serious way. I decided that his attire was different from the one he wore this morning, and his shirt definitely suited him, and like Henri’s had been, brought out the blue hue of his eyes. When he walked close to me, an agreeable citrus scent met my nose.

         His proximity made me nervous somehow, and turned my hands clammy. I didn’t like this at all.

         Upon arriving at the parking lot, I was surprised to see that my ride was a black two-seater and immediately understood why Que had previously told Henri he had no space for three.

         Que unlocked the door, pulled the passenger side door up for me and helped me into the wide spacious leather seat. Then he went to the driver’s side, chucked my crutches and his bag into the back and started the engine. The engine roared to life. Que paused to insert a new disc and soft slow music tinkled gently from the state-of-the-art sound system. I quietly rolled my eyes, not expecting to see the more sentimental side of this supposedly macho man. Then I braced myself and actually held on to the sides of my seat as we sped off.

          “How are you feeling, Azure?” he asked. “You sure you’re OK?"

          “Definitely,” I replied heartily.

          “I am so glad,” he laughed. “I thought you looked better, too.”

          “Uh, Que,” I said nervously as we turned left after leaving the sentry post at the camp’s big gates. “I thought the mansion’s that way.”

          “Azure, honey,” Que looked at me and grinned roguishly. “We have lots of time to kill before 8.30. I thought I’d take you for a drive to Ismet Kelsom, it’s just nearby anyway. That is, if it’s OK with you.”

          “Heck, of course it’s OK,” I agreed excitedly. I had in fact been looking forward to having somebody take me out for a walk or a drive because when I had been cooped up in the hospital, the evil Dr. Ryan had forbade me from stepping out of the hospital compound. At all. And more exasperatedly, the others back then had thought this was a great security measure and had agreed on this condition unanimously. “You’ve got anything in mind?”

          “Well, not exactly,” Que confessed, turning into a busy street. “We’ll just drive around slowly and see if anything catches our eye.”

         So that’s what we did, with me looking out my window and him staring in front and to the side sometimes. By this time, the day had already grown noticeably darker and the clouds above rolled grayishly by. Finally, at an intersection, he nudged at me and pointed to the front. I looked up and saw that he had gestured to a big corner lot multiplex with huge movie posters and flashing neon advertisements displayed on top.

          “How does a movie sound?” he asked me, his voice suddenly shy. Because he sounded so earnest, and because I really didn’t have any other good ideas at the time, I nodded and agreed that it was a good idea.

         Once the traffic light turned green, he quickly changed lanes and entered the multiplex’s parking compound by its side. We parked, then Que quickly went to my side to help me out and passed me my crutches. We slowly entered the three-story building and made our way to the ticket stand.

          “What movie will be showing in about five to ten minutes’ time?” Que asked the girl manning the counter. He glanced at his sporty silver wristwatch and noted that it was fifteen to seven. “Perhaps a movie no longer than one and a half hours, and preferably one with a cineplex on the ground floor.”

          “Very choosy, aren’t you,” commented the girl with a slight lisp while she scrolled down the pages on her computer, with Que drumming impatiently on the countertop, the simple platinum ring he wore making a metallic sound each time it hit the counter. “Well, there’s only one that matches your description. Gone with the Animals, starts in five minutes.”

          “What on earth is that?” asked the clueless Que while I leaned my back against the counter and smiled down at an inquisitive-looking toddler holding a stick of candy floss and standing in line with her mother behind us.

          “Says here it’s a Maranganese computer animation film about animals and it’s supposed to be fun for the whole family,” answered the girl as she squinted over the movie summary on her computer monitor. “Rated G. So now, what’ll it be? Are you taking this or not?”

         He paused to turn and look at me, silently seeking my approval. Not far behind us, a big man wearing a wide straw hat, bermudas and flip-flops coughed meaningfully, indicating that we were taking too long a time at the ticket booth.

          “Gone with the Animals is fine with me,” I smiled in affirmation.

          “You sure?” he asked dubiously, at the same time taking a fifty dollar note from his crocodile leather wallet and handing it to the ticket girl, telling her, “Two tickets, please. With seats hopefully somewhere in the middle, but in the row farthest from the screen.”

          “I’m sure,” I nodded positively.

          “Here you go then, sweetie,” smiled the girl as she handed Que the change and the tickets which she tore from the printer. It was only then that I noticed she had two upper front teeth missing. “The best seats available, only for you.”

         Que took the cash and tickets, wearing an incredulous expression that almost tickled me pink. He then led me further inside the building, his hands fixed firmly on my shoulders, making sure that not one person in the thronging crowd would bump into me.

          “Are you certain you don’t mind watching this movie?” he asked doubtfully as he steered me along. “The movie’s probably in Maranganese, with subtitles running underneath. I think it’ll be a cartoony computer flick, and may be a little childish, too.”

          “It’s OK,” I assured Que. “Anyway, I love Maranganese cartoons, that I remember, and to be perfectly honest with you, I have no idea when the last time I’ve watched one was.”

          “I didn’t realize you felt that way about cartoons,” mumbled Que as we approached the concessionaire. Noticing the hopeful look on my face as I gazed at the popcorn and candy floss stands, he immediately asked, “Would you like some popcorn?”

          “Yes, please,” I answered happily. I followed him as he strode toward the booth, telling him when he inquired that I preferred mine covered with everything they had. “It’ll go really well with the movie,” I predicted.

          “You sure you want yours heavily buttered?” he asked, frowning as the white-apron man went about preparing our order.

          “Why, is something the matter?” I asked back, a frown slowly forming on my forehead, too.

         ”No, it’s nothing,” he replied, trying to shrug it aside. But when I pressed him, he finally admitted, “It’s just that, well, Penny and Skye are usually conscious about their looks and often opt for unsalted and unsweetened this and that.”

          “I’m not really concerned about my weight at the moment,” I replied. “Why? Do you think I need to slim down?”

          “No, no,” he blushed, explaining. “That’s not what I meant. You in fact need to gain more weight. It really pains me to see you so thin, Azure.”

          “So is that why you’re ordering giant tubs of popcorn for us?” I asked, only then noticing the huge containers the white-frocked man was shoveling our popcorn into. “I know I said I wanted popcorn, but that is way too much for me to stomach!”

          “No worries,” he told me, grinning. “I’ll finish it for you if you can’t.”

          “So you guys often go out together?” I instead questioned him interestedly.

          “Well, not just the three of us,” he replied, taken aback and clearly not expecting this deduction of mine. “In fact, back in the old days, all of us would get together on weekends and go out for movies and such. All of us meaning Skye, Penny, Ari, Qit and us.”

          “How about now?” I asked curiously.

          “Now?” He rummaged inside his pants and gave some money to the popcorn man. “Now we’re a little too busy with our own schedules, I’m afraid.”

          “Here you go,” said the twinkly-eyed man as he handed two tubs of popcorn and two canned soft drinks to Que who miraculously managed to balance the lot carefully in his hands. “Cute date you have there,” the man added, winking pointedly at me.

         I saw Que’s face change color as he silently left the booth, but I swung around and straightened the facts. “We are not out on a date,” I told the surprised man coldly. “And in future, please don’t just jump to conclusions, OK?” With that I whirled around and slowly made my way toward waiting Que.

         Our seats were situated in the very last row, and the lights dimmed the moment we sat down. Que put my drink into the cup holder by my side and passed me a tub of popcorn, despite me still insisting that it was too much for me.

          “It’s a little draughty in here, don’t you think?” Que looked around the almost deserted room with most of the audience, consisting of children accompanied by parents, seated in the center and front rows. He quickly located the problem: the air vent was just above our heads. “You want to move now, before the movie begins?”

          “It’s OK,” I told him as I settled more comfortably in my seat. “I’ll tell you if it gets too cold, then we can move.”

         Advertisements and future movie gazettes flashed on the screen for about five minutes, before the feature presentation was shown. The movie starred about a dozen wide-eyed forest dwellers who, faced with the danger of losing their home to illegal loggers, decided instead to go on a journey to seek greener pastures, experiencing many adventures and tribulations along the way. It turned out that Que had been right, instead of badly-translated voice-overs, the length of the movie saw badly-translated subtitles running below near the edge of the screen. But it was an entertaining movie anyway, and I enjoyed it immensely.

         Even before the middle of the movie, Que had finished his popcorn. Noticing this, I offered him mine but accidentally tipped it all over him when he reached out for it.

          “It’s OK,” he laughingly whispered to dismayed me as he stood up and brushed the remaining popcorn off his khakis. “Better popcorn than the drink.”

         The rest of the movie continued uneventfully. Toward the end, the movie’s uplifting, funny and happy tone turned into a more somber mood when, in a flash flood, two of Foxy’s pals were swept away by currents and were drowned.

         I was so enthralled by the film, the cold draught didn’t mind me at all. Nevertheless, I surprised myself when, unbidden, tears quietly splashed down my face. Que must have noticed, for he drew out his handkerchief from his pocket and silently handed it to me. When I gratefully but ashamedly used it to dab at my eyes with one hand, he gently took hold of the other and kept it in a comforting grasp till the movie’s bittersweet ending.

         When the lights were finally switched on again, we had to blink for several seconds and adjust our eyes to the brightness. We let the others troop out the exit door first before finally standing up and making our way out.

         Once outside the cinema and amid the crowd, Que turned to me and asked, “That was a good script. What do you think?”

          “It was terrific,” I replied, embarrassedly wiping away some tears which still stung my eyes. “Instead of a happy ending, this one has a bittersweet one, and I appreciate it better this way. Makes the story more poignant, more realistic. And so much effort went into this production! The story has many layers, too, and on a deeper level, you can see how man has compromised his role as guardian of earth and how the strong exploits the weak. And the animation – flawless! It was so cleverly done that the movement never jerked at all! The art made everything so alive. If one would only examine it closely, one would realize the characters all stemmed from the heart, and they were all delightfully well rounded. The creator must have been a genius, no doubt about it. Even if his name isn’t all that familiar to me. Say, am I talking too much?”

          “Not at all,” he replied with a crooked smile. I had the suspicion that he had been staring at me while I was animatedly talking away.

          “Good,” I said, then kept quiet. He was silent, too, as both of us ran out of ideas to discuss.

          “So, did you enjoy it, then?” he rephrased his previous question, gripping my shoulder so that the suddenly surging and jostling crowd would not shove me away from him.

          “Why, I haven’t enjoyed myself this much for a long, long time,” I told him truthfully.

         Outside, nighttime had come. Rain began to drizzle as we hurried toward the car. Once inside, Que started the engine and observed that it was already 8.20 p.m. He let the engine idle, his reluctance to go anywhere else painfully evident to me.

          “I don’t really feel like going,” he finally confessed, looking straight ahead and avoiding my eyes. “To tell you the truth, I really had a lot of fun today, too, the most I’ve ever had in you wouldn’t believe how long. Wish it wouldn’t have to end so soon, though.”

          “It’s not ending,” I told him softly. “It’s just the beginning. We’re gonna go get a pizza after this, aren’t we?”

          “Yes,” he admitted with difficulty. “It’s just that the others will be there, too.”

         I laughed as warning bells sounded in my head and said to him, “Look, the others’ main reason for this is to celebrate your win today. And it’s very important to them that you, as one of the main cast, be present to show your full appreciation of their efforts.”

         Que merely sighed, shaking his head slowly. “I just don’t feel like going. They’ll understand. They’ve got to.”

          “I disagree,” I retorted. “I’d be very angry if I had organized every detail and discover at the last minute that you won’t be coming after everyone’s finally gathered and waited for you for like about an hour or so.”

          “Well, why don’t we wait until we’re an hour late, then?” he asked hopefully.

         This time, I was the one to shake my head. “Not a practical choice. Think again.”

         I saw his head droop sadly, then he looked up and began drumming his fingers wistfully against the leather dashboard.

          “Besides,” I tried again, “aren’t you tired? Or famished? After the long game you played?”

          “You know, I am a little tired,” he confessed, looking at me through bleary eyes. Then he laughed, when his stomach growled so loud he knew I had heard it. “And more than a little hungry, despite the popcorn we just had.”

          “Well, what are we waiting for?” I urged him.

         He only blinked at me, still somewhat undecided.

          “Look,” I told him simply. “I personally had a great time myself, but it has to come to an end. Isn’t that the way of the world? It’s not going to be the last time we go out, you know. There’ll be other times in future.”

          “Promise?” he asked with big imploring eyes.

          “Of course I promise.”

          “All right,” he said, looking somewhat relieved, and put one hand on the steering wheel. “Ready to meet the others now?” he asked as he went into reverse.

          “Ready,” I replied, and he accelerated toward the Pizza Palless.

 

 

14) The Pizza Palless

 

         On the way there, I asked Que why Pizza Palless was named that way. Que explained that according to the proprietor, he had at first wanted to name it Pizza Place, but a pizza joint down the block had opened before his did and taken the name as well. Then he decided to call it Pizza Palace instead, but a friend had advised him not to as there had been another joint downtown bearing that particular name. In the end, he opted for Palless to show that he was unparalleled and no rival pal was up to par with him.

         Indeed, Que insisted that they had tried quite a lot of pizza joints but this was the best so far. That was why the gang preferred the eatery above all others.

         When we parked in front of the restaurant, we saw that Penny’s car was already there. Que also pointed out to me Ari’s red Real Rayce adventure recreational vehicle and Qit’s black Speed Racer with the detachable top. It had stopped drizzling by then, though there were tiny puddles here and there on the tar road. We walked out of the car and slowly made our way through the restaurant door.

         Inside, the restaurant was only half-filled with patrons. Somewhere in the middle, we saw that the others had joined two tables together and that everybody was already seated down.

         I noted that Ari had brought his wife along, but Skye was sitting alone at one end, with no Dark in sight. Qit, his seat next to Ari’s, had evidently showered and changed into a beige V-neck sweater and corduroy jeans. He had also had enough time to shave his afternoon stubble. When the others spotted us coming in, they immediately stopped chatting and waved to us as if we hadn’t seen them already.

          “You’re five minutes late,” hollered jovial Ari, his wife beside him nudging in a bid to remind him to try and be civil.

          “Come sit here,” proffered Henri, patting the seat next to him. Que helped me sit then slid into the chair next to mine. I smiled at excited-looking Henri and observed that though the others had changed their usual dining seating arrangement, he still chose to sit next to Penny, who at the moment was nearby him at one end of the table, opposite from Skye.

          “Have you guys been waiting for us long?” I whispered to Henri.

          “Nah,” he replied. “Ari was just trying to make you guys feel guilty.”

          “We haven’t ordered yet,” explained Penny, shoving the printed-out menu to me. “What are we having? Any suggestions?”

          “Why not let the stars of the day decide?” Ari proposed, leaning one elbow casually on the backrest of his wife’s chair. At his suggestion, Qit and Que exchanged looks. Both didn’t seem to have a clue on what to order.

          “I’m cool with whatever you guys order,” said Que with a shrug. Qit nodded in approval.

          “In that case,” smiled Penny, taking the menu back from me, and it was evident she had already had everything planned out already, “we’ll order a personal pizza of each type.”

          “With extra cheese,” I begged.

          “With extra cheese,” she agreed.

          “And lots of mushroom, too,” slurped Henri.

          “No anchovies for me,” declared Qit.

          “At least one thin crust pizza for Joy,” said Ari, settling back more comfortably in his red-and-white chair. “And lots of garlic bread and fried chicken wings – don’t forget the sauces - and mushroom soup.”

          “Potato crisps, too,” decided Que. “And ask them to dab a lot of mayonnaise on the pizza.”

         Penny glared at Que and repeated the order for verification, “Mushroom, no anchovies, one thin crust and all side orders available. But no mayonnaise. If you want I’ll buy you a jar at the grocery store on my way back, Que.”

          “I had no idea you were such an aspiring waitress,” Henri whispered admiringly to Penny.

         She shot him an unfriendly look and challenged him, “Say something like that again and you’re walking home tonight, buster.”

         Ari whistled to get the attention of the waitress taking orders at the next table, and gestured for Penny to repeat the order to the girl when she approached them. Penny looked up at the waitress and repeated the verified order. That done, she immediately looked around and asked what we wanted to drink.

          “Strawberry milkshake for me,” I replied quickly.

          “Make mine chocolate milkshake,” said Que after a moment’s decision. “And one big banana split.” He dismissed Penny’s frown with, “Hey, so sue me. I’m darn hungry.”

          “Oh, waitress,” called out Ari, looking at his wife who nodded. “Make that three banana splits. I’ll have a Cola, the original, not the Diet type, and she’ll have cold milk.”

          “I think I’ll opt for hot cocoa,” said Qit.

          “Coffee for me,” Henri told the waitress.

          “Gianese tea,” piped in Penny.

          “Milk tea,” said the quiet Skye. I looked at her from across the table and saw that she appeared calmer, but more subdued, too, exchanging only a few words now and then to Joy who sat nearby.

         The waitress left with the order scribbled on her notebook and a pencil above one ear. She came back three times a few minutes later, the first time to deposit two tin buckets filled to the brim with huge groundnuts with a bang on the table top, the second and third times to pass the drinks around.

         Conversation flowed around as usual, and I noticed more than one patron glancing at our boisterous group. I kept glancing at Skye, but she seemed to be distant from the group that night, preferring instead to wallow in whatever emotion she had alone in one corner. Although I had a great desire to approach and apologize to her, I decided that the time wasn’t right and allowed her the chance to savor her privacy and solitude.

          “So, what were you guys up to today?” Penny was asking Que slyly, leaning over and inquiring somewhat loudly so that he, as well as everyone else, could hear. “I didn’t see you going back to the mansion after the game.”

          “What is it to you anyhow?” Que answered, looking down at the milkshake in his hand. I saw the ends of his elfin ears turn pink and wondered what Penny was insinuating at.

         Even Henri was inspecting me with a strange expression on his face as Penny continued, saying, “I know it’s none of my business, but heck, Que, everybody here is curious to find out.” I looked around the table and saw that all were looking at us interestedly, ears cocked attentively even though they pretended to be chatting to one another.

         But Que only kept quiet, taking a slight sip then using the straw to stir his drink.

          “Cool it, Penny,” warned Qit.

          “Aww, it was just a harmless question,” she responded innocently.

         I couldn’t take it anymore, and finally blurted out what I thought was a neutral answer, “We went to catch a movie.”

         There was sudden silence as everyone stared at me in surprise. Henri smacked his forehead in a way that said You’re an idiot and I heard Que choke beside me.
          “Why, did I say something wrong?” I whispered urgently to Henri, worried about negative implications my answer might have contained.

          “No,” Penny replied instead. “It’s just that I’m surprised you guys had enough time to grab a movie. What was it called again?”

          “Gone with the Animals,” I replied unsuspectingly. “It’s a Maranganese computer animation movie.”

          “Ah,” Penny chuckled. “Gosh, Que, I never suspected you were so much into cartoon - oops, sorry - computer animation flicks! Was it a romantic one, by the way?”

         I saw red-faced Que’s hand shake as he abruptly stood up. He would have walked out the door had I not put a tentative but restraining hand on his left arm. At the same time, Qit was chiding Penny and asking her to pipe down a little, which she thankfully complied.

         Conversation continued like normal, even after the soups, main course, then the desserts came and I was astounded to witness how much the guys could eat. Nothing else happened, and everybody commented that the food was delicious, though there was a bitter taste in my mouth all throughout dinner and I couldn’t wait to get back home. Even Que was subdued and looked rather dejected.

         I remembered being told that my thinking ability was somewhat slower than before, and that I didn’t really understand the underlying message Penny seemed to be hinting at. But that did not stop the queasy feeling in my stomach, and made the night pass painfully slow and uncomfortable to me. Only Henri’s reassuring pat on my left hand and Que’s supportive presence, though silent, next to me made me stay and put on a cheerful mask.

         Finally, after Ari had finished the last morsel and burped his last burp, much to his wife’s chagrin, everybody chipped in whatever change they had to pay the bill, though they insisted that Que, Qit, Joy and me not pay. It was only then that Skye opened her mouth and spoke directly to me.

          “I’m sorry I forgot to brief you on your financials, Azure,” she said in a low tone, her eyes seemingly still downcast. “I promise I’ll do it as soon as possible.”

          “Take your time, I’m in no hurry,” I told her and to my surprise, she returned my grin with a wry smile. “I know you’re busy right now. We’ll do it whenever you’re free.” I was relieved; her smile seemed to signal that everything was all right again between the two of us.

          “Fancy seeing you here, Que,” the sudden whiff of strong spicy perfume wafted up my nose even before the cooing voice reached my eardrums. Surprised, like everybody else around the table, I turned to look up at the tall woman with golden locks cascading down the back of her fitting blouse. She had one hand on Que’s headrest and was about to whisper something in Que’s ear when she saw me. Her jaw dropped in shock, her face changed color at the sight of me and her hands fell limp beside her.

          “Hello,” I said to her, not knowing how to interact with someone gaping at you like that.

          “You’re back!” she gasped, and I looked around to see if anybody had the heart to explain it all to me, but discovered that everybody was still trying to get over their initial surprise at her sudden appearance. “But, nobody told me!”

          “Yes, I’m back,” I told her. “From the dead, one might say.”

         She laughed nervously at this little joke, covering her mouth with one twitching hand.

          “And you are?” I asked her politely.

         She seemed amazed that I didn’t know her identity and because she was looking down at Que expectantly, Que quietly supplied the answer, “This is Lawles. She’s presently undergoing training and will join us as a Fighter soon.”

          “Oh, really?” I said interestedly.

          “Yes, just as soon as I pass my Masters exam,” she replied, finally seeming to revert to her prior relaxed state.

          “Masters?” I asked wildly, whirling to look at Henri quizzically.

          “To be a Fighter,” Henri explained patiently, “one should receive the proper amount of education and have paper qualifications up to the level of doctorate.”

          “You mean, I can be called a Dr.?” I asked him incredulously.

         He nodded. “Believe it or not, you’re a brainiac, or used to be. I only got my Masters last year, that’s why I became a full-fledged Fighter only recently. At the moment, you can say that I’m doing my practical, and will graduate to more challenging tasks once I sit and pass my Ph.D. in another three years.”

         We all trooped outside after that, leaving Lawles to order her dinner alone. I went from one car to another saying goodbye to everyone, until only Que’s and Qit’s cars were left. I looked back and caught sight of Que and Skye standing near the doorway, seemingly deep in discussion. When I approached them on my crutches, I heard Skye give Que a final warning, “You of all people should know what’s best for her. Remember not to overdo it, Que. Don’t push too hard.”

         She then whirled around, waved goodbye to me, and walked toward Qit who was already waiting in his car. Both Que and I waved to the duo and watched the car disappear before ambling slowly toward Que’s car.

          “Que,” I began as I settled myself more comfortably into my deep seat and put the seatbelt on. He had been quiet all this while and at the moment was looking up at me, seemingly startled from a reverie. “I just wanted to apologize for whatever happened back there.”

          “That’s OK,” he told me, shrugging it off. “Penny’s always rankling people up. She knows I’m kinda touchy and, well, what you might call quick-tempered, and she often uses this to her advantage. You’d think I’d be used to it by now,” he added glumly, looking off into the darkness.

          “I know she was just joking,” I smiled, trying to lighten the somber tone inside the car. “Everybody can see that. She didn’t mean anything by it. Don’t let it get to you, Que.”

         He looked at me with those big doleful eyes and murmured, “If only you could remember the past, Azure. Then you wouldn’t be saying the same.”

         This time I was the one to be rankled, stating, “Well, it’s not like I lost my memory on purpose, you know.”

          “I’m sorry,” he whispered, still wearing the same sorrowful eyes.

          “Stop this,” I told him. “I don’t like your tone. Let’s go somewhere cheerful and have fun. What place’s still open at this hour of the night?”

         He switched on the engine and we both glanced at the car clock. It was almost half past ten.

          “What do you have in mind?” Que implored.

          “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t feel like catching another movie. How about just driving along and showing me the sights? You know I haven’t been out for ages!”

         He stared at me for a moment before answering, “We could, but it shouldn’t be a long drive.”

          “Why not?” I questioned back inquisitively.

          “Because,” he sighed, “the others left specific instructions not to.”

          “Are they always dictating you what to do?” I asked angrily, remembering how Dr. Ryan had especially singled Que out the day I was discharged and gave him what I believed now to be some sort of warning.

          “Sometimes,” he admitted. Then he turned toward me and peered deep into my eyes. “They all want you to be better soon. That’s the main thing. They’re worried about you.”

          “But shouldn’t I know what is good for me, and what isn’t?” I cried. “Did Skye ask you to take me home immediately just now?”

          “Sort of,” he admitted. “It’s just that you might still have the flu, and she didn’t like the idea of you being out on a cold night like this.”

          “Yeah, right,” I replied sarcastically. “For the last time, I’m alright now! I don’t have the flu! OK?”

         He merely looked at me with solemn eyes and I immediately felt bad for the outburst.

          “I’m sorry,” I said dejectedly.

          “I know you are,” he whispered. He reached out as if to touch my hair, but had second thoughts and pulled back. I raised an eyebrow but decided to act as if I had seen nothing.

          “You remember Dr. Ryan from the hospital?” I asked him.

          “Uh-hmm,” replied Que, nodding.

          “Did he lecture you the same way the others did?” I prodded him.

          “More or less,” he answered truthfully, giving me a slight lopsided smile. “You have a long history of being accident-prone, and the hospital staff weren’t too keen on having you back with a broken ankle or something.”

          “Really?” I was surprised but was pleased that Dr Ryan had at least been practical during that one moment in time.

          “Yes,” replied Que, earnestly. “And he especially wanted me to be careful whenever I’m around you because I have a rep for making bad decisions. That’s another reason why the others are constantly monitoring me, so that I won’t hurt you unintentionally.”

          “Oh,” I replied, finding the answer satisfactory, my anger gone like a wisp of smoke. “C’mon, Que. I’d never believe you’d have it in you to hurt me intentionally.”

          “Of course not,” he emphasized. “Never intentionally. What do you take me for anyway?”

          “Not a fool,” I replied after a moment’s deliberation, and he gave me that funny half-smile again.

          “Yeah? So, do you feel much better now?” he inquired, putting his hands on the black leather steering wheel.

          “Lots,” I told him.

          “Great,” he responded, putting one foot down on the gas pedal and slowly making his way down the street. “I think the others won’t miss us much in another fifteen minutes or so. I have someplace special to show you.”

         He wouldn’t tell me where he was taking me but kept his hands locked on the steering wheel and his eyes glued to the windscreen in front of him. We drove on until we finally came to a narrow private road and he carefully drove up the steep incline.

         The view near the top of the hill was spectacular, and I could see miles and miles of buildings and car lights flickering softly in the distance, a man-made starry ensemble under the shine of the huge round yellow moon. Even the air felt fresher there and the welcomed night wind teasing my hair and clothes felt like it was embracing an age-old friend.

         I noticed one or two cars passing by our parked car and turned up to Que’s contemplative figure standing beside me, inquiring why we, like the other cars, didn’t go all the way up to the hilltop. But he staidly refused to budge without giving adequate reason, just that he preferred the view from the spot we stood because it was more personal and private.

 

 

15) After Returning Home

 

         My first intention upon reaching home, some time after eleven, was to throw myself onto my comfy bed and sleep away like a log. Unfortunately, I found that sleep wouldn’t be coming for some time later, for both Henri and Skye had been up waiting for me, the latter to discuss and return my legal documents and the former, only God knew what he wanted to ask me. They both trooped in with me into my room, and while I lay on my back on the bed, my feet both still planted firmly on the ground, wishing for privacy and the opportunity to catch some shuteye, Skye took out some documents from a file and spread them out on the carpet.

         I had no choice but joined her on the floor, hugging a cushy pillow against my chest with the hope that they’d get the hint, but they didn’t seem to. Henri was sitting on the king bench, looking down at us with a bemused expression on his face.

         All in all, it was a decidedly educational eye-opener. Skye apologized because she might be too busy the days after that to discuss my papers with me, and had wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible. I had to agree on the logic behind her reasoning, and was mightily glad to finally find out how much I was worth exactly.

          “I can’t give you all your documents as you’re not exactly the most organized person here, plus the fact that you kept hopping from one place to another like a bunny,” Skye semi-complained, and I had to smile at her description of me. “But these were all the documents we could find in the mansion that are relevant to you.”

         She then proceeded to give me my bankbooks, credit card and bank statements as well as deeds. I discovered that I had my own house about an hour’s drive away, as well as some estates and homes strewn all over Mucia Pasifika, some rented out, some cared for by caretakers, some left otherwise abandoned. Skye also reminded me that the value of the properties had increased over the years. I tried doing a fast mental arithmetic, but stopped due to a headache when I passed the 5 million Melizian dollars mark.

          “I know you still have the credit cards left in your wallet when you were found in the desert,” she was telling me patiently. “But they’ve all expired. I suggest you call your credit card issuers, make sure that nobody had misused the cards – just in case, and also your banks to check the status of your accounts, whether they’ve been frozen or otherwise OK.”

         I looked closely at the bank accounts and was surprised that the latest transaction I could determine was made more than three years ago. As Skye rambled on, I took the chance to ponder it was strange that this was so. After all, the others claimed I had only been missing since some time last year, so what exactly had I been living off before that? Even with the government-funded residence and amenities, surely I needed money to support my lifestyle – probably an expensive one, judging from the designer labels in my closet.

          “By the way, how do we receive our paycheck?” I asked, stifling a yawn. “You know, like do we get a check? How often? Every fortnight?”

          “Every month’s end, actually,” smiled Skye. “You’re still on paid medical leave until the first of next month, so by right they should have credited your salary right into your Gov bank account – see, here’s the book. You have to update it, though. If you want, you can also ask them for a new teller machine card then.”

          “Oh,” I said, inspecting the bankbook. It never occurred to me that the bank books all needed updating. I flushed slightly at the realization of just how disorganized I was, not even updating the bankbooks regularly.

          “Even the statements aren’t exactly up-to-date,” Skye told me, as if reading my mind, and to my delight, yawned as well. “I guess you must’ve changed your billing address when you moved.”

          “Moved?” I pressed her, not catching her true meaning. “Where to?”

         To my intense dislike, Skye did it again: exchanging glances with Henri. Though the glance appeared casual to me, I wasn’t too sure it was meant to be that way.

          “To one of your houses in Mucia Pasifika, of course,” she told me, and had the audacity to look me straight in the eye. Not exactly a master of body language, I decided I was cornered and had no choice but to believe her on this one. “What else could it be?”

         In the end, Skye passed the documents over to me and stood up, stretching. She excused herself, claiming to be rather worn out after a hard day, then said goodnight and left both of us, leaving the bedroom doors open.

         I looked up at Henri on the king bench, and he looked at me. After a moment where neither of us gave in to be the first to talk, I ended the silent debate by going and sitting down next to him.

          “What is it that you wanna ask me?” I drawled, frowning in a bid to appear more hostile and unapproachable. Perhaps he’d go away then. But Henri only laughed.

          “Don’t look so serious,” he told me. “I just wanted to find out how your date with Que went. He did go to his room, didn’t he? He’s not like waiting outside, waiting for me to go before pouncing in, is he?”

         My forehead furrowed as I stared exasperatedly at this foolish boy. I was about to insist that it wasn’t an actual date, but instead I said, “You know, you’re the second one to jump to such conclusions.” And I proceeded to tell him about the popcorn man at the multiplex and all that transpired that evening. There was something in Henri, a kind of charm perhaps, honest and comforting, that made it easy for me to tell him anything. Even now, he was listening with rapt interest, guffawing out at the right places and otherwise prodding me to continue my narration.

          “He took you where?” he suddenly yelped, interrupting my story. I gave him a cold stare and he immediately apologized. “Sorry, sorry; but this one really took me by surprise.”

          “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “I didn’t ask him the name of the place. It’s a hill where you can see like miles and miles away.”

          “Oh dear,” Henri was bent double, laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. “This is priceless! If I’d known what he had planned for you earlier on, I would have teased him mercilessly.”

          “Please don’t tell anybody what I’ve told you,” I implored. “You promised! Especially not to Que. He might not like the idea that I discuss him with you.”

          “I promise,” Henri said, wiping off the grin from his face.

          “And why were you laughing?” I asked quizzically. “What’s the joke?”

         At this, Henri laughed again and finally managed to quieten down enough to say, “I think you must mean Hangman’s Hill. Noticed lots of cars around, by the way?”

          “There were a few,” I replied, remembering. “What about it?”

          “Noticed what they were up to, by any chance?” Henri gave a sly chuckle.

         I stared at him for a while, finally understanding. “So that’s why he refused to drive all the way up.”

          “You mean, you weren’t at the hilltop?” Henri asked back. “I thought you were.”

          “Well, we weren’t,” I stuck my tongue out at him. “We were almost, but not quite. What were you thinking of?”

          “Oh, you know,” replied Henri lamely. “When two people are left alone in a car under the romantic night sky and beautiful landscape all around, what do you think will happen?”

          “You beast!” I laughed, trying to conceal my reddened cheeks as I hit him with my pillow again and again. After a while, I sat there contemplating.

          “Penny for your thoughts,” Henri said.

          “Penny must be in your thoughts now,” I told him, tongue in cheek. “Because you keep popping her name up in inappropriate places. I did see her drive off with you when we left the Palless, right? She didn’t make you walk all the way back or anything?”

          “You know how she is,” sighed Henri. “Always talk, no action. She keeps threatening to do this, to do that to me, but she never does.”

          “Consider yourself lucky, then,” I replied with a smile.

          “But, gosh!” Henri moaned. “You should have heard her yapping. Yip-yip here, yip-yip there.”

          “What does she talk about in the car?” I inquired.

          “I don’t know,” admitted Henri. “I didn’t listen. Ow! But, seriously, she was going on and on about this shopping spree she did or is going to do, about her uncle, about her work, about her boyfriend, about her boyfriend, about her boyfriend.”

          “And you didn’t like that at all,” I decided, looking at him shrewdly.

          “Hey,” he answered before grabbing my pillow and pretending he was about to hit me. But I managed to notice a slight blush creeping up as well as the flustered look on his face. “Let’s get back to you and Que, OK? So, you mean nothing happened? You just went to the hill to take in the sight, and he drove you straight back afterward? Is that all? Aw, what a letdown.”

          “Watch your words,” I pinched him on the shoulder while he squirmed to get away. “Otherwise I’m gonna have to scrub your mouth and your brain clean so you don’t have any more funny ideas.”

         We were quiet for a while after that, lost in our own thoughts. Henri stared up at the ceiling while hugging the pillow tightly against his chest, me looking down at the floor.

          “You know,” I started at the exact moment he opened his mouth to speak. But then he gestured for me to go first, so I continued after clearing my throat. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. For some time, actually. It’s just that I sometimes don’t know what to say.”

         He lifted my face up with a finger under my chin so that I would look into his eyes, and stated rather than asked, “It’s about Que, isn’t it.”

          “Yes,” I admitted, bending double to hide my blush against my knees. “Do you think I’m imagining everything?”

          “Why should that be?” he asked gently. “Is it because you think –"

          “Yes, it’s because I think he might be interested in me,” I admitted finally, abruptly lifting up my tear-stained face. “But why am I crying? Why the tears? I don’t understand.” I sobbed, telling him this was the second time I had cried, the first being at the movies when I was with Que.

          “It’s because he makes a lot of grown women cry,” Henri replied with a shrug. Seeing that I didn’t get the bad joke, he put out a tentative hand around my shoulders in a bid to comfort me. I took out a handkerchief from my pocket and blew my nose, feeling suddenly lighter, as if a weight had been lifted off me. “Hey, is that my hanky?”

         I studied the handkerchief before answering, “No, this one’s Que’s. I think I left yours in my car.”

          “It’d better still be there when your car returns from the workshop,” he growled jokingly.

          “But what do you think?” I beseeched him. “Sometimes he makes me so uncomfortable. Sometimes I catch him stealing glances at me. Does that mean he likes me? Or does he do that to all the women that he sees?"

          “I don’t know,” replied Henri thoughtfully. “I’m not him, so I can’t talk on his behalf. But I don’t think he does that to all women, at least not now.”

          “So, do you think I’m making it up?” I looked at him through teary eyes.

         He returned my gaze, seemingly contemplative, before slowly answering, “You know what, I don’t think you are. But I have to tell you to be careful here, you’re still a little delicate, you understand. But the real question now is: how do you feel about all this?”

         I pondered on the question before answering frankly, “I don’t know. I mean, I’m not sure.”

          “Maybe you need some time to think it over first,” advised Henri. “I don’t want to pressure you, but … please take care of yourself, Azure. If not for the others’ sake, at least for my sake. You know you’re pretty special to me. I wouldn’t want you to make any rash decisions and getting hurt in the process – any type of hurt: emotional, physical, the lot.”

          “Thanks,” I replied softly. “But, yeah, I know he’s, well, rather cute. And I’m not blind either, I know that Lawles we met at the pizza place has the hots for him, too. I mean, just look at me. How can I possibly beat somebody like her?”

         He took in my swollen eyes and answered affably, “You do look rotten this very moment. But maybe make-up might make it better.”

          “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I told him, voice dripping with sarcasm.

          “You have to have more confidence in yourself,” he said seriously. “And I really think you’re making good progress. You’ve become more perceptive since you left the hospital, and I can see that your thinking is improving, too.”

          “Uh, thanks, I think,” I wasn’t sure whether to take it as a compliment or insult. “But how can I get my confidence back? Was I like this before? I have hardly begun to comprehend who I am, I don’t have a sense of identity, so how can I be sure of myself?"

          “Look around you,” Henri gestured. I followed his hands, not exactly knowing what he meant. “The room. Feel it. From deep inside you. Don’t you feel it calling out to you? Didn’t you feel welcomed the moment you stepped in? This room had been empty for such a long time, but your memories, like photographs, are still embedded in the walls, just waiting for you to come home and view them once again.”

         I stared at him. What he said somehow made perfect sense to me. I remember being enveloped by a sense of familiarity the moment I laid my head on the pillow the first night I was home. And the vivid dreams – which the others claimed had been part of me – didn’t start until I returned from the hospital. Did this room somehow trigger it? Is the old me in here somewhere, just waiting to come out?

          “You only need to look within yourself, to know who you are,” Henri was commenting philosophically.

          “I just have to find myself,” I repeated him, feeling as if my brain was whirring away in my head. “I want to gain back my strength, my vitality, my spirit.”

         He nodded. “Yup, atta girl. See, you got it already. Wanna go do the physiotherapy thing at the hospital tomorrow?”

          “Over my dead body,” I declared. Nothing would make me go near that hospital ever again.

          “Well, you were talking about strength,” shrugged Henri. “I just thought learning to walk as a natural first step.”

          “Forget about physiotherapy,” I said. “But tell me: how was I before, Henri? I want to know.”

         He hesitated before answering, “You know, now that you mention it, I have to make a confession: I like you better now than before. I mean you were such a scary girl then – much like Midnight, for the sake of comparison. Now, I don’t know, you’re more mellow, I guess; gentler and calmer, too. I like that in a person.”

          “What do you mean?” I cried, remembering what Penny had called Midnight. “What - was I a monster back then?”

          “Well,” he answered thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t put it that way. You were different then, period.”

          “Different? How?”

          “You always seemed proud and cocky, so sure of yourself. It was like you were invincible or something, and even I believed that for a while.”

          “What else?”

          “”Well, you were stern –"

          “Made of sterner stuff, is that it?”

          “Well,” Henri scratched his head. “That, too, now that you mentioned it. Sometimes you’re crude and rude, and you had this mean streak or something in you. Walking with you was like walking with a dynamite which could go off anytime. I remember there was this guy who –“ he paused in mid-sentence and glanced at me. “But no, that’s unimportant. There were always many men around you, too. It was almost like they were compelled to you by the charismatic dark force that emanated from you.”

          “Huh?” I looked at Henri, nonplussed.

         He grinned. “Just a line from one of your books over there.” He took in my alarmed expression, and quickly added, “You used to let me read them for reviewing, but then you stopped when I kept criticizing your writing.”

          “I haven’t gone through them yet myself,” I confessed. “But I intend to, soon.”

          “Actually, you were quite good,” Henri remembered. “Needs a bit of polishing, a little bit of tightening here and there. Otherwise, quite OK.”

          “So, you were saying I had many boyfriends?” I tried to steer him back to our main subject.

          “Well,” he thought it over. “You can say they were boyfriends, but not all were unlucky enough to receive the honor. Most just gazed at you from afar, tongues lolling like dogs.”

          “Eeyuch,” I cried. “You have a gross way of describing.”

          “You were quite a heartbreaker back then,” reminisced Henri. “I’ve lost count of how many exactly. To you, it was easy come, easy go. You used to act irresponsibly, and recklessly, too. But I guess you’ve already heard that. So, is that enough for now? Can I stop now?”

         The conversation was making me mightily tired. Yawning, I stretched out my arms, stood up, made my way clumsily toward the bed and plopped down, face first.

         I turned around at a scraping noise, and saw Henri already standing as if meaning to leave.

          “Wait,” I called out to him. “One more question: is Skye psychic?”

         He grinned and asked back, “What makes you think so? She could be. Why don’t you ask her one of these days?”

          “I will,” I managed to whisper as I shut my eyes. I heard him bid me adieu and goodnight, then heard him trudge up to my door, where the noise abruptly stopped as if he had paused for something. Drowsily, I made out some of the words he was saying.

          “Hey, Que, fancy seeing you here. Not asleep yet? No, she’s already sleeping. Listen, if you strain your ears you can hear her snoring away like a baby. Yeah, OK, you, too. Goodnight.”

         The last memory I had before I drifted into much-anticipated sleep was the sound of the door slamming shut behind Henri.

 

 

16) Passing Time

 

         It was funny. Upon reaching home, I had been so engrossed with thoughts of Que that I was sure they would keep me awake all night. But no, after unburdening my soul to Henri, I had felt intense relief and had succumbed to a deep dreamless sleep. Well, at least I had no memory of having dreamed that night.

         The next morning at breakfast, I thought Que didn’t say much all throughout the meal, didn’t even seem to notice that I was dressed in a long cotton white dress for a change. I remembered asking him whether he was ill, but he shook his head slowly, saying no.

         The others were their usual jovial selves, and I noted the empty chair beside Penny. Oh, well, I can look forward to seeing Ari this weekend.

         Toward the end of the meal, Ms. Sandy came in with a faxed document for Skye. I saw Skye frowning as she glanced through it, with Penny over her shoulder poring on it as well.

          “What does it say?” I asked as Que and Henri were clearing the table. Penny was still glued to Skye’s shoulder.

          “They’re sending us off to this refresher course or something,” replied Skye, looking up and meeting my eyes. “They want us to get ready. It’s starting next week, at Bayou Hola Camp. I know you won’t officially start working till one week plus, but it says here you’re invited. Think you’re up to it, Azure? Wanna come along?”

          “ But I’m off for a week in Jami Jami Isle then,” Henri cut in before I could answer. “I’ll be handling the Hansen case, and the estimated allotted time is a week or so. I won’t be able to come then.”

          “You’re right,” said Skye, squinting at the paper in her hand. “Your name’s not mentioned, so you’re excused. Guess they already took your assignment into consideration.”

          “What’s the training for, anyway?” asked Qit from across the table. “Does it say?”

          “You know what,” Skye bit her lip, still studying the piece of parchment. “It doesn’t say. We’ll only know what’s in store for us once we get there.”

          “I don’t know about this,” I said in a doubtful voice. “I mean, I’m still having problems remembering. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to go back to work. Heck, I can’t even remember what I used to do!”

         I saw Skye glancing at Henri before replying, “You can look forward to the camp, Azure. Your job will be made clear to you then, so don’t worry too much about it.”

          “Yeah,” agreed Henri. “But try to will yourself to walk before then. I know you can do it, if you can only find it in yourself to do so.”

         I looked at him, hurt written all over my face. He went over and clasped my hands in his.

          “What happened to you, Azure? You were never the type to give up easily. I know you have it in you, you only need to will it to happen.”

          “Maybe she needs to continue her physiotherapy,” suggested Qit. Henri noted the look of alarm on my face and quickly answered on my behalf.

          “That’s OK, Qit. I’ll be her personal physiotherapist.” To me, he turned and said, “I have to go to the Army Camp, but I’ll see you at three. You’re OK by then?”

          “Sure,” I smiled up at him. “No prob.”

          “Ms. Sandy will be around if you need anything,” reminded Qit. Then he turned toward Skye and called out to her. “Ready, Skye?” As Skye walked briskly toward him, I remembered she had left her car at the Camp following yesterday’s Dark episode.

         Soon, I was the only one left at the table. I took my crutches, made my way up to my room, and began going through an assortment of drawings, fuzzy sketches and self-written manuscripts. Sometimes I saw familiar faces in the drawings, but not all the time. As for the writing, I had trouble distinguishing fact and fiction, because sometimes the written accounts resembled a diary but it tapered off into some fantasy tale somewhere in the middle. In the end, I had to put them back, some of the books still left undisturbed, feeling like I was going to come down with a headache.

         Soon it was time for lunch. I asked Eva to bring it up to me: a meal consisting of lamb shank, mashed potatoes and salad. I drowned it all down with lemonade and returned the tray outside in the corridor. Then not knowing what else to do, I went around the mansion, checking out the indoor pool, library, war room and music room, before deciding to step outside for awhile.

         I guess I took Alric unawares. He practically jumped when I greeted him and put a hand on his shoulder. He was even more surprised when I requested him to accompany me to Midnight’s stall. But my favorite moment was when Midnight whinnied a welcome greeting and gently took the green apple I had earlier on raided from the kitchen and was offering to him. Alric’s astounded face was priceless, and I was very proud to show how Midnight and I were once more on good terms. Alric even put on the halter on Midnight and allowed me to grab hold of the leash and lead Midnight out the stable.

         Easily tired out, I led Midnight out near the lake, rearranged some dry huge leaves on the ground and plopped down with a sigh in the shade of a giant tree. I let Midnight graze the green grass in the glade nearby and opened my knapsack. I threw an apple to Midnight who caught it neatly between his teeth and settled down comfortably at the base of the tree trunk, taking out an interesting science fiction anthology Henri had lent me and yet another apple to nibble on.

         A cool breeze blew in, and that coupled with the straw hat perched on my head and the huge boughs under whose shadows I was sheltered, made me forget the blazing sun outside. I was deeply engrossed in the third story, fascinatingly about a man who discovered his wife was an android, when a shadow fell across the page I was reading. I looked up, squinting slightly as the rays that escaped through the small opening in between the leaves blinded my eyes momentarily.

          “Hello, Azure,” Lawles’ cool voice floated down the same time her strong spicy perfume reached my nostrils. Near my feet, Midnight pawed the ground and shook himself nervously.

          “Hi, Lawles,” I replied affably. “Fancy seeing you here.”

          “Sandy said you might be here,” she explained as she sat down unbidden beside me. “I thought I might as well, try my luck.”
         I put the book down, the page I was reading brushing against the blades of grass. I just hoped Henri wasn’t very particular about creased book spines. “Is there something I can do for you?” I inquired suspiciously.

          “It’s nothing, really,” she sighed. I took in her long manicured nails, flawless make up and smart pantsuit. I decided she was almost as pretty as Penny. “It’s just that I want to talk things over with you. You know, about old times.”

         I shook my head sadly. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember much about the past.”

          “Well, how much can you remember exactly?” she was asking eagerly.

          “Very little, actually,” I admitted reluctantly.

          “Do you remember me? Do you remember Que?” Her last question caused warning bells to ring in my head.

          “What about you and Que?” I asked back in what I hoped was a naive voice.

          “Oh, nothing much,” she answered. “It’s just that I hope you remember how close Que and I are. You know, I’d hate it if somebody gets it into her head to steal my boyfriend away from me.”

         I stared at her, understanding her perfectly. “Don’t worry,” I told her coldly as she got up to go, her message delivered. “I’d never dream of stealing anybody from anyone.”

          “Good then,” she replied, criticizing. “One more thing: I don’t think I want to come and stay here at the mansion after finishing my Masters. You guys hardly ever mingle with people other than yourselves, it’s no wonder you’re still acting childish while everybody else has grown up and matured.” With a wave, she haughtily walked off, not even looking back.

         I stared at her for a while before commenting to the stamping horse, “I don’t like her that much, either. She reeks of, I don’t know, garlic? Onions? And I’m not talking about her physical self, too. But do you know this is the second person to accuse me of stealing their men? It’s not like Skye accused me of anything, but I can’t help feeling that she did just that through her silence.”

         Midnight settled next to me and allowed me to pat him and run my fingers through his hair. We continued in this fashion until Henri came trudging up the path some time later, hollering and waving and huffing away.

          “Hello to you, too,” I smiled up at his red face. “My dear little Steam Engine.”

          “Har har,” he said acidly, sitting down next to me and grabbing a red apple from atop my lying knapsack. He took a huge bite out of it, talking between chomps, “I was looking for you all over. Why didn’t you tell anybody where you were going?”

          “Did you bother asking Ms. Sandy?” I asked him, and when he shook his head, I said, “It figures.” Then I told him about Lawles paying me a visit.

          “What on earth does that woman want?” Henri was fuming as he heard how Lawles had warned me not to get too close to Que. “She’s either too proud to admit she’s been dumped or too stupid to realize it. Relax, Azure, I know for a fact that Que and she are not an item now.”

          “But they had something going on between them for a while?” I moaned. “Guess she doesn’t want to take her claws off Que.”

          “It was just a minor fling,” shrugged Henri. “Don’t worry yourself too much.”

          “Say, I’m tired of talking about Lawles,” I complained. “Can we talk about something else now?”

          “Sure,” answered Henri agreeably. “How about a shopping trip to the city? I have to get something for my future assignment.”

          “You have to change first,” I commented, pointing toward his back. “Your back is all wet.”

          “No sweat,” he quipped, standing up. He proceeded to unbutton his plain light green office shirt and took it off, exposing a sleeveless white T-shirt underneath. Then he squatted down and wet the shirt with the pond water and wiped it all over his face and upper torso in front of my incredulous eyes. “Ahh, much better. Very refreshing. Hope you’re OK walking around with casually-dressed me today. We’re not going to any suit-and-tie restaurants anyway, right?"

         I merely stared at him, disbelief written all over my face. “You have muscles,” was what I finally remarked, pinching his arm to be sure.

          “Ouch,” he yelped, swiping at my hand. “Stop grabbing me! People might think you’re a pervert, or worse. What do you think I had anyway – flabby arms?”

          “Well, it’s just that you were always into baggy suits,” I replied defensively. “And do we have to go out to Kismet Kesuma now? It’s so hot right now.”

          “Well,” said Henri, shrugging. “I was thinking of cooling off at the pool. Come join me.” He tugged at my hand but let go and laughed when he read the reluctance written on my face. “What? Too conscious to wear a swimsuit? It’s not like I’m forcing you to wear bikinis anyway. Tell you what, let’s go up to your room. I think I saw a diving suit in there somewhere.”

          “Stop making fun of me,” I pouted. Then, sighing, I consented, “Alright, K.K. it is, then.”

         Henri helped me up and accompanied me all the way to the stable. He kept his distance from the biting Midnight, all the way to the other side of me, confessing sheepishly that Midnight had always disliked him. “Maybe he’s being a little overprotective, not happy with the idea of you being too close to a person of Light,” he had ventured. As for me, I tried my best to cajole and coax Midnight into being more obedient but he kept flashing his eyes and baring his teeth menacingly at poor Henri.

         After promising Midnight I’d take him for rides once my legs were stronger and leaving him in Alric’s care, we trudged up to the main door, where Henri had parked his still idling car. I saw that it was a sensible white Vunata sedan, perhaps five years old. Entering through the passenger door, I saw that the air conditioner was switched on at full blast. Looking around, I was surprised to see that Henri was gone. After a few minutes of sitting patiently waiting for him, he finally appeared with sunglasses he had thoughtfully taken for me from my room, explaining that he had to go upstairs anyway to chuck his wet shirt into the laundry basket.

         Soon we were speeding off, reaching Kismet Kesuma in no time at all. I marveled at the skyscrapers puncturing the sky and Henri pointed out major tourist attractions to me. During the drive, I tried to get Henri to answer a few more questions.

          “What ‘stuff’ exactly do you need for your assignment?”

         He had laughed and tried to brush it aside. “Cool it, Newcomer, you know we’re not supposed to disclose the nature of our assignments to people outside the assigned group, even to other Fighters.”

          “Even to me?”

          “Especially to you,” he said softly. Taking in my hurt look, he quickly explained, “Don’t get me wrong. It’s just that you used to abide the Fighter code religiously, always tight-lipped especially to me when it comes to areas of your assigned tasks. But the others do discuss their work with one another, unless they have been expressedly ordered not to disclose any information.”

          “But what is it exactly that we do?” I implored him. “You never really clarified this to me.”

          “Well,” he began, hesitating. “I’ll take Skye for example. She’s multi-talented, great at communications, and is often sent in areas where diplomacy and tact is needed. Being a sharpshooter and having the highest I.Q. in the group aren’t so bad, either. It’s rare when she’s not consulted for anything from strategizing to actually implementing them into action.”

          “You know you’re not making much sense to me,” I pointed out to him.

         He merely grimaced and scratched his head. “Yeah, well, it is rather difficult to explain to one unfamiliar with the whole concept. You used to say this about yourself: Jack of all trades, master of none. Remember when I said all Fighters were trained in various fields? They threw the whole assortment at us and monitored us, pinpointing our special areas and coercing us to specialize. So what’s the motive behind this? What do you think?”

          “One wouldn’t want to invest too much time, effort and money on something unless they get something out of it,” I answered slowly. “I’d say the Government wants us to make full use of all the skills we’ve garnered for the sake of the country.”

          “Clever girl,” smiled Henri. “But not only for Melize. True, we are based here, but as I’ve mentioned before, there are times when we are needed elsewhere and with the Melizian government’s blessing we are sent to all four corners of the globe.”

          “You were talking about specialization,” I reminded him. “What are our specializations? Are they different from one person to the next?”

          “Let’s see now,” contemplated Henri as he stopped at a red light. “Skye is the senior, with generally good command of most everything, I’d say. An all-rounder, unlike us sorry losers. Penny’s more into research and technology, you know, like gadgets and stuff. She, sometimes in partnership with Ari, is also great at cracking codes.”

          “Really?” I asked, surprised. “I can imagine her uncanny talent for snooping and investigating, but technical stuff? Man, she must be more intelligent than she looks.”

          “Don’t say that,” chided Henri. “Her IQ's even higher than yours.”

          “Really,” I remarked, flushing. “But then, how about the others?”

          “If you must know, after me, you have the lowest I.Q. in the group.” Looking at my dismayed look, he laughed. “There isn’t much difference, just one or two marks’ difference between you guys. Besides, it was taken a long time ago as an entry-level test, before you were even welcomed to the mansion. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out there are slight changes if we were all asked to re-sit the test now.”

          “What about me?”

          “What about you?” He looked at me quizzically and relented when I glared at him. “OK, OK. Like Skye, you also specialized in communications, but slanting mainly toward languages and literature, you know, stuff like translation and linguistics. You can speak in all major Mucia Pasifikan languages. Other than that, you seemed to have picked up some bizarre skills during your international assignments, like prying locks, detecting counterfeit money, fire-breathing, even, that sort of thing. But as a whole, your general skills are, well, somewhat not up to par with the other five. You can tend to your own wounds, and your survival skills are good enough so you wouldn’t die even when abandoned in the middle of a desert, oops, sorry it struck close to home. But the others surpass you in most areas.”

          “You really know how to bring me down a peg or two,” I commented acidly as he grinned away. “But tell me, why did they choose me as a Fighter if, like you say, I’m the worst of the bunch?”

          “Oh, wait,” Henri interjected. “I never said you were the worst of the bunch – did I give you that impression? I am so sorry, then. You see, you’ve also developed a knack for swords by the time you were appointed as Bearer of Darkness. Your swordplay is elegant and exquisite. Watching you slice the Forked Sword through the air was pure poetry – brr! But funnily enough, the mere thought of it still gives me goosebumps. Even Qit who had learned how to yield a sword all his life is only second best.

          “Besides, I’ve always believed you don’t excel too much because you weren’t motivated enough and felt there was no need to prove yourself to the world. Admit it: I know how your mind works. You’d never be coerced to do something until you see the catch or reward or light at the end of the tunnel.”

          “I’m not very sure on that one,” I confessed sheepishly. “But it does feel like something’s hit home. What’s a Forked Sword anyway?”

         I got the idea he was shocked to hear me ask because his grip on the steering wheel tightened till his knuckles turned white before he let out a nervous laugh and glanced my way. “Yeah, well, sometimes I forget you don’t recall things. The Forked Sword is actually your insignia as the Bearer of Darkness. It’s your choice weapon, though no other mortal could use it as it responds only to your psyche.”

         I took a while to digest everything in when I suddenly found ourselves parked in a parking bay underground.

 

 

17) Shopping with Henri

 

         I learned from Henri that the shopping mall we were in was called Quadruple Square and was a great place to hunt for bargains. As we tore from one men’s tailor shop to another, Henri confided that he needed to be fitted for a suit in order to attend a dinner event. For some reason, he wanted one in cream, perhaps a pinstriped one, and we had a tough time finding a shop having a relevant cloth satisfactory to me. Being typical Henri, he left the final decision up to me, and didn’t seem to mind me being choosy at all.

         As we strolled along the corridor of the mall, I turned around and asked Henri, “You know, I’ve been thinking about what we discussed in the car on our way here. Do we use weapons when we work, Hen?”

         He gazed at my disturbed look before answering, “Azure, hon, that is such a subjective question. Police officers on the street have weapons, even some high-ranking army officials learned to use them though they seldom put it into practice. That doesn’t mean they’re gonna use them today, tomorrow, or any day for that matter. They were trained in handling weapons mainly to prepare themselves for eventualities. They carry them on the street as a precautionary step. Whether they end up using those weapons or not depends on their fate. Besides, why else would the Fighters spend so much time at the Army Camp? So, Azure, does this answer your question?”

         I nodded before asking again, “But how about the Forked Tongue, uh, I mean Sword? Do you think I could use it again? Where is it anyway?”

         He looked somewhat troubled, and I had the impression he had already anticipated this question. Anticipation or not, he seemed to be hesitant in answering. “Now, this one’s another subjective question. You see, your sword arm has always been your left one. In fact, when you lost your left hand and had it replaced with a bionic one the first time around, you had a hell of a time adjusting to it. But in the end, you managed to control the sword just as effectively. Now I’m not so sure. Do you think your wrist can handle it? I’m sorry to be so frank, but I happen to think your present left hand seems a little delicate, for lack of a better word.”

         I inspected the hand in question ruefully. “Yeah, I happen to agree with you. The grip’s still a bit weak, though, much weaker than my right one. But how about the Forked Sword? Where is it? You haven’t explained.”

          “Well, this one is a bit hard to answer. You see, Azure, the only person responsible for the sword is you and you alone, no one else. So when you claim not to know where it is, nobody else has any idea where to find it then.”

          “You mean, it’s lost?” I whispered, aghast.

          “Something like that,” he answered, patting my shoulder affectionately. “Don’t look so glum. I’m sure it’s out there somewhere, just waiting for you to find it.”

          “So if the Forked Sword is a symbol of Darkness,” I contemplated out loud, “what’s the symbol of Light?”

         He laughed at this one. “You know, I’m still waiting for that one myself. I’ve only been a Bearer much recently compared to you, and even back then you didn’t get the sword until several years after your appointment. All I know is that your guardian’s Midnight, like Skye’s was Uni when she was in charge of the Light.”

          “How about you?” I questioned him.

          “Well, maybe my Vunata sedan, then,” he replied with a straight face.

          “Yeah, right,” I drawled sarcastically. “But, you know, you mentioned about Penny, Skye and me, but how about the Three Stooges’ specialized fields?”

         He chuckled at this reference to Que, Qit and Ari. “Alright, as must be apparent to you, Ari’s got great leadership skills. He’s vocal, good at strategizing and giving motivational talks and is a natural in coercing thronging crowds to go his way, much like a hustler cowboy herding his cows.”

          “Whoa, watch your comparisons again,” I disapproved. “I don’t like the way you easily compare human beings to a herd of cows.”

          “But isn’t that who we are?” he asked, fluttering his long eyelashes playfully. I tried to punch him on the arm but he laughingly dodged it. “Seriously, Ari is a go-getter, and has a good grasp of the Underground world, including sewers and tunnels. Don’t laugh, you don’t know how many times this knowledge has helped us infiltrate enemy headquarters. Other than that, he’s a genius at math. He’s quite handy with a machete, too.

          “As for Qit, in several ways he’s luckier than Que. Even though orphaned, he had a sense of heritage and knew something about his family’s history. Growing up at the royal home, he was trained in various arts and skills, in accordance with his task to step in as the new ruler when he came of age.”

          “But it never came to be,” I whispered softly. “There was a revolution and the monarchy was toppled over. Such is the fate of the countryless Harqis family.”

          “Yeah, well,” Henri nodded in agreement. “Qit’s pretty well-versed in the world’s history and general knowledge. In fact, you used to call him your Walking Encyclopaedia.” His eyes twinkled merrily when he said that. “He’s pretty good with most traditional weapons, too, especially the broad sword and bow and arrows. As a sniper, he’s got sharp eyes and is almost as good as Skye. Other than that, he also has a good grasp of physics, specifically aerodynamics. That’s why he makes one heck of a pilot, too.

          “And as for your favorite Que,” he started and ouched when I pinched his arm hard, “though he’s thinner, he’s actually more athletic than Qit. Energetic, never can sit still for long. Much like you in some ways.” He easily avoided another angry pinch and chuckled. “And I’ve noticed, like you, too, he’s more, I don’t know, what’s a word that’s got to do with ‘air’? Airy? Airhead?” He laughed again as he dodged my blows. “You get the idea. Qit’s the more practical one, both feet fixed firmly on the ground, much like Skye. But Que, he’s the opposite.

          “As everyone knows, he’s a bit hot-headed sometimes, and can be quite stubborn when he’s set his eyes on something.”

          “Guess Lawles would probably just say he’s determined and a go-getter,” I interjected. “Not much difference actually.”

          “Well,” Henri continued, “other than that, wait let me think, nope, that’s it.”

          “What do you mean?” I queried, bushy brows knit close together. “How about his other specialized fields? Knowledge? Weaponry?”

          “Much like the others,” Henri feigned a yawn. “He is such a playful little fool sometimes, and is too lazy to push himself too hard unnecessarily, much like a certain someone you and I both know.”

          “Funny har har,” I remarked sarcastically. Then I frowned, thinking. “You know, Hen, if I’m really as bad as you made me out to be, why did they choose me to be a Fighter? I mean, there are a million other candidates out there.”

          “I’m so sorry,” he grinned good-naturedly, squeezing my hand affectionately and apologizing in his bungling way. “I didn’t mean to make you think you’re useless, or anything like that for that matter. But, yeah, on a personal level, you’re quite a valuable Fighter. You’re resilient, resourceful, dependable, a fast learner with good reflexes and never one to give up easily.

          “Granted, the Melizian government is highly selective when choosing their Fighters. Evidently, you guys were chosen because of your intellect, mind sets, psychological profile and background. And for effectiveness, they made sure they chose a team that bonds well, that understands each member so well words are sometimes unnecessary. Did you think it was merely a coincidence that all of you were orphans? That most of you have gone through traumatic experiences during your childhood?

          “Other than Penny, and well, Qit and Que, since they have each other, all of you have not even one relative still alive. Sometimes I get the feeling that the government chose orphans to do its dirty job so that should anything go wrong, there’d be no parents to answer to. Not that it’s ever been proven anyway. But I even think that if you hadn’t been so vocal when recommending me as a prospective Fighter, I’d never have been chosen, just because I don’t share the same things you guys do.”

          “Whew,” I grinned at him. “So much observation, from the one with the lowest I.Q., too!”

         He scowled and elbowed me on the shoulder. His abrupt shove almost made me fall.

          “Hey,” I yelled at him. “Why the sudden push?”

          “Checking your reflexes,” he said smugly. “Still got a long way to go, kiddo.”

          “Brute!” His answer had succeeded in irking me further. “No wonder you don’t have any girlfriend, you still have a long way to go before you learn how to behave like a proper gentleman.”

          “That’s below the belt, Azure,” he warned softly. We walked about in silence before he finally opened his mouth again. “It wasn’t a strong push, was it? Still angry?”

          “No, it wasn’t,” I admitted, smiling, my anger fading away. “And the answer’s no, not anymore.”

         We searched for tailors but as I was still dissatisfied with the materials they had to offer, we were stumped on where else to go to. Even when I insisted, Henri adamantly refused to pick just any material available, saying that he wouldn’t settle for second best.

         Finally, Henri thought of another idea. “Why don’t we go out on the street? There are some more shops all along it, and the price should be reasonable, too.”

         So we trudged up to the Ground Floor, with Henri taking my crutches and bullying me to slowly climb the emergency staircase with my hands gripping the railings for leverage and went out through the mall’s side entrance. It was already dusk when the din of traffic and exhaust fumes greeted me. We ambled along the pedestrian walk, going into one tailor shop after another.

         Finally, we came upon a nondescript shop so small we almost walked past it. There, rolled under sheets of dusty plastic, we discovered the perfect white pinstriped cloth of the right texture and consistency for Henri.

         While the tailor took measurements, I took my time looking around the rickety shop and even found a cloth of soft dreamy white brocade with raised shiny Maranganese motifs which Henri agreed was exquisite. After a moment’s deliberation and Henri pointing out that we could purchase the cloth and send it to a women’s tailor shop later, I bought enough cloth with some to spare, just in case. I had already decided to make out of it a pair of trousers and a Maranganese outer garment all the way down to the heels with side slits to the hips and perhaps big butterfly-like Maranganese buttons all the way down the front.

         We sent the material to a women's tailor shop next door and I was delighted to learn that, same as Henri's suit, mine would be ready for collection by week's end.

         "Hungry?" Henri asked as I strove to stop the teasing wind from chasing my dress-hem up too much with one hand, the other hand holding on to my wide-brimmed straw hat to prevent it from being blown away. It was already nightfall by then. "Why don't we go sample some stall food? There are some further up and quite a lot of variety for us to choose."

         "Sure," I agreed heartily. "I'm famished." But then, when we passed by a karaoke pub, the almost inaudible song which wafted up through the doors opened by people coming in and out made me stop short, ears pricked forward. Concerned, Henri asked if anything was wrong, but I merely gestured that I meant to enter. Albeit his initial reluctance, Henri obligingly followed me in when I assured him I just wanted to take a look and that we were still going to have dinner at the stalls.

         Inside, I had to walk close to Henri for security as the crowd inside, mostly middle-aged men, jostled their way around us. The air was thick with stale cigarette smoke and through the dense fogginess, I could make out some circular tables with men sitting all around as well as a staircase with a sign directing more private patrons to use the individual rooms upstairs. We slowly made our way through the throng nearer to the small raised circular stage in the middle of the place. There, with his back toward us was the room's center of attention, a microphone in one hand and a television set in front of him displaying song lyrics for him to sing to.

         The clear voice sounded somewhat familiar, and the heartfelt song that reverberated around the room was a much familiar ballad, a slow sad song about how one's love still goes on even after a loved one's demise. I was surprised to find the singer able to sing the more high-pitched final chorus. Henri tried to whisper something in my ear, but thunderous applause from the patrons, signaling the ending of the song, drowned him out. Then, as the blond swung around taking bows to show his audience his appreciation, I found myself staring disbelievingly up at Que.

         Henri hastily made me duck, then we made our way out of the stinking place as quickly as we could. Outside, we leaned against the exterior brick wall, panting and wheezing, and a fit of giggles suddenly overcame me.

         "Gosh," I gasped breathlessly, still unable to stop myself from giggling nervously. "That was Que inside, wasn't it?"

         "Yeah," puffed Henri. "Man, that truly was something else. I sure hope he didn't see us, though."

         "I don't think he saw us," I reflected. "But what on earth possessed him to sing to a crowd? I didn't realize he could sing, either."

         "All of us can sing, you know," reminded Henri. "We took singing lessons. I tried to warn you just now, but I guess you couldn't hear me."

         "Does he often do this sort of thing?" I asked, for some reason needing to know.

         "Come here alone to sing his heart out to about a hundred strangers, you mean?" he asked for confirmation and I nodded. "Yeah, I know he does that sometimes. This place is known for specializing in therapeutic slow songs for junkies to vent out whatever it is that's bugging them. I heard it relieves a lot of stress. But I sure didn't expect him to be here tonight. Say, why don't we go to the open-air stalls? It's just around the corner."

         So off we went, ordered fried wanton noodles and Heringanese chicken rice and chatted some more while waiting for the food to come. All around, the clamor of peddlers inviting passersby to try their wares, of swift flaming frying techniques and the scraping of woks greeted me. The rich spicy aroma stemming from culinary practices of the diverse Melizian cultures was welcoming, and Henri began to make amusing face gestures just to indicate that his mouth was watering.

         "Hen, I'm curious to know," I began after thanking the boy who brought our frothy and steaming milk tea. "When did Que start doing all this stuff?"

         Sitting opposite me, Henri fidgeted uncomfortably before answering. "I guess it'll be about three years or so."

         I recalled the riveting melody, and his clear resonance, quaking slightly at the powerful emotions lurking behind the song. "What happened to him then? It must have had a great impact on him, judging from the rendering he made."

         Again, he hesitated, stirring his drink with a teaspoon before answering, "The others would surely kill me if I told you about this now. But what the heck – it’s unfair for you not to know. About three years ago, Que, I don’t know how to say it,” he sounded flustered, but I gestured for him to continue. “He lost his sweetheart.”

          “Who was it?” I inquired.

          “Just some girl he had been fancying ever since he was small,” was all Henri supplied.

          “Did she die?” I asked inquisitively, all of a sudden feeling sorry for Que. “He dumped her? She dumped him? She ran away? Hey, if he lost her, why didn’t he search for her?”

          “There had been a lovers’ spat,” Henri replied, his eyes still downcast. “She ran away before he could stop her, before he could tell her he was sorry. This he regretted, even up till now. He tried in vain to search for her, and one day a housewarming party invitation in her writing found its way into his hands. He was ecstatic, and quickly went to see her, but was shattered to find that she was already married to someone else. Despite that, he put in a lot of effort to woo her back. It backfired. She moved not long afterward, and Que never heard from her again.”

          “What a sad soppy tale,” I remarked, feeling unshed tears threatening to fall. Luckily our steaming food came. I took the opportunity to rub my eyes as Henri took the plates of food from the waiter’s hands. “Dust in my eyes,” I whispered when he asked me if I was OK.

         Once we had finished our meal, two little girls came to our table, shyly indicating that they wanted to sell the flowers they had in their woven baskets. Henri quickly turned around to look at me, inquiring which flower I wanted.

          “The tiger lilies and roses look nice,” I replied. Henri aptly chose three lilies and five pink rosebuds, then paid the girls. The girls giggled, went over to my side and smilingly passed the selected flowers to me. They stared at me for a while, a wondering look in their eyes, before they turned around and, still holding hands, ran away.

          “Hope you like ‘em,” smirked Henri, and ordered two more milk teas.

          “I do,” I whispered, inhaling the scent of the flowers. “Thank you very much.” Our drinks came, and Henri began to stir his drink to enable it to get cold faster. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you, thank you for the flowers before.”

          “Before what?” Henri queried, eyebrows raised.

          “You know,” I faltered. “At the hospital and such.”

         He stared at me for some time before explaining, “That wasn’t me.”

          “It wasn’t you?” I was confused. “That night, the first night I came home, who put the flower on my dinner tray? It wasn’t you? Then who?”

          “God knows,” shrugged Henri, seemingly indifferent. He waited for me to finish my drink before pulling me up to my feet. Again, he forced me to walk slowly and painfully some ways, laughingly pointing out that the exercise would be good for me, and besides, I deserved it for passing up the chance to see my beautiful physiotherapist at the hospital.

 

 

18) The Training

 

         The days that passed were uneventful, except for two occasions both occurring the evening after my shopping spree with Henri. Penny had flown into the dining room with a rolled up newspaper in her hand, cheeks flushing excitedly. She had thrown open the center page and we all pored over it. I remember feeling shocked to see that it was a blown-up picture of Henri smiling at me while I was inhaling the scent of the flowers he had bought.

          “Ooh,” Penny had cooed slyly. “They’re saying you guys are in lurve. My, my, no wonder you were both out all night! How can you possibly keep a secret like that from me?”

          “Penny, you idiot,” Henri had laughed, thumping her on the back, looking slightly flustered. “You know it’s not true.”

          “These tabloids,” Skye remarked darkly. “They exploit people, catch them when they’re vulnerable. And for what? To garner in more sleazy readers to boost their sales.”

          “Why white flowers, though?” was Qit’s only comment. “I thought they were supposed to be for the dead.”

         Que didn’t say anything; he merely scowled.

         I then asked Penny whether I could have the newspaper, and she generously said yes.

         That was during dinner. Right after dinner, I heard a commotion coming from the direction of the reception area. We had hurriedly gone to see what the matter was, and I ashamedly regretted it when I saw Dark trying to drag his mammoth suitcase into the mansion and Skye preventing him from entering.

          “Since you’re not coming home,” he had shouted, trying to push her away with one hand, “then I’m coming here to stay.”

         Penny, Henri, Que, Qit and I then quickly slinked back into the dining room. Everybody had seemed embarrassed as the sound of Dark’s suitcase thumped heavily on every step he took going up the staircase, and the thumping followed all the way to Skye’s room. We had made sure that Skye’s room had been slammed shut and that both of them were nowhere to be found before scurrying up to our own rooms for solace.

         When the next morning came, we found Dark sitting in Ari’s chair, and that Skye was sitting quietly beside him. Henri promptly filled in Skye’s empty seat next to me and Penny went to sit at the other end of the table. Dark seemed to want to catch my eye, but one look at Skye’s glum face and downcast eyes was enough to make me know better. I focussed instead on finishing my fried spicy yellow noodles.

         Saturday was the day Henri would depart for Jami Jami Isle. By that time, thanks mostly to him, I had learned to walk without using crutches, though I still tend to use objects around me for leverage.

         Ari came to the mansion early and joined us for breakfast. He seemed surprised to see Dark, who I had managed to avoid confronting up till now, at the dining table, but was not shocked.

         That afternoon, Henri took me out to collect our clothes from the tailors. We took my car, and he asked me to sit in the driver’s seat. He patiently reminded me how to operate the vehicle, and I was glad beyond relief when I drove, slowly but surely, and reached the tailor shop in one piece.

         I then coerced him to try his suit out first, and when he stepped out of the dressing room looking every inch a gentleman, I had applauded enthusiastically and told him so. Next, we made our way to the tailor next-door where he forced me to try out my outfit first. I relented, and when I happily came out feeling that the dress suited me comfortably, Henri had remarked that I looked ravishing in it.

          “But you’d better wear it only on special occasions,” he had advised. “Wouldn’t want people to think you’re a runaway Maranganese bride or something. And make sure you wear the trousers that go along with it. It’d be much too revealing otherwise.”

         His flight was at 7.30 p.m. Despite my pleas, he refused to allow me to send him to the Rkuyu Airport, about an hour’s drive away. He would meet his teammates there. At fifteen past five o’clock, he was already downstairs, dressed smartly in crisp immaculate white Royal Guard uniform, with a ceremonious thin-bladed sword hanging from his sash by his side. As he adjusted his cufflinks properly, I brushed off the lint from his shoulders.

         Finally, Uncle C. the chauffeur went up the drive in a limousine and promptly put Henri’s suitcase into the car’s trunk. Beside us, the others were all saying goodbye and wishing Henri a safe journey. All of a sudden, a lump formed in my throat and I felt like clinging onto Henri and not letting him go to Jami Jami. But I bravely smiled up to him, forcing myself not to cry. It would, after all, only take him a week or so. Nevertheless, I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of him going away: it would, after all, be the first time I wouldn’t be able to see him since my coma. But finally, I gave in to my conflicting emotions and stood on tiptoes to surprise him with an affectionate peck on the cheek.

         When I waved and waved until the car was just a speck on the horizon, the sky turned gray and glum. Then, there was a sudden downpour. It rained heavily all throughout the night, too, mirroring my gloomy mood exactly. That night, I tossed and turned, but couldn’t sleep. Only when I stared at the tabloid’s center page picture for some time could I finally be comforted enough to doze off.

         The next morning, I went down to the storeroom because Henri had mentioned some of my things were still boxed up. I had been dismayed and troubled to find the storeroom so huge and filled with hundreds of cartons. I had to ask a support staff for help first before I discovered that most boxes were labeled and arranged in alphabetical order. In no time at all, I found a few boxes bearing my name on the cover. The boy, Stone, who turned out to be Eva’s brother, helped carry the boxes up to my room.

         There I rummaged through the various knick-knacks, photograph albums and newspaper clippings. I arranged the items out on the floor, trying to see whether I could get a sense of familiarity. But nothing, not even the photographs, reminded me of anything. They were comforting, a heritage of the past, yes, but failed its purpose in jump-starting me to mental recovery.

         One burned photograph stood out among the others, though. There was only the left half left, and I brought this up for closer inspection. Out of the charred remains, I could only make out Que’s beaming youthful countenance. Judging from the photograph, he seemed not older than twenty. He was dressed in a smart suit, and behind him I made out a gazebo, with what seemed to be a smudged-looking Skye looking down to the ground.

         Was this a wedding? If yes, whose was it? And since Skye was there, too, could it be possible that I knew the bride and/or groom? In fact, why was Que dressed like the groom’s best man – was he one?

         I pondered these questions over. Was it Ari’s wedding? Or Skye’s? The second one appeared more possible. After all, what was Skye doing in the gazebo?

         I made a mental note to find out the dates of Ari’s as well as Skye’s wedding ceremonies.

         Other than that, I was amazed by the great number of pictures featuring mostly me and a red sports car. I scrutinized the pictures up close, noticed that the pictures must have been taken at different times, because my outfit, the place, the weather, and sometimes even my hairstyle, did not coincide with one another.

         I further mused the possibility that I had once owned such a beautiful vehicle. I noted the plate number: AB21. Nice number. What was it supposed to represent, my age when I bought it? I didn’t think it was logical for me to borrow someone else’s car for a long period of time when I could have easily purchased it myself in the first place. I knew I had to ask Henri about it at a later date.

         I also discovered a musical box which still played Swan Garden beautifully, with its key still attached to it. I was shocked to find several jeweled rings, necklaces, earrings and bangles inside. One look and I was sure the value to be at least fifty thousand dollars.

         But what on earth made me so careless, leaving my jewelry just like that? Then I remembered Henri’s remark that here in the mansion, everyone trusted each other, and I felt grateful relief at the truth behind that statement.

         After a hearty lunch of rice, sardines, omelet, black pepper steak, squids cooked in soy sauce and salad, we packed our belongings and lined the suitcases we would bring to the camp all along the wall in the reception area. I had just returned from bidding a fond farewell to Midnight when Uncle C. drove a blue Tryco adventure recreational vehicle up the driveway. We then hoisted our stuff and climbed aboard. I saw Skye saying goodbye to Dark. They shook hands, each wearing a stoical expression, then Skye took Dark’s hand and kissed it, and he in return kissed her on each temple.

         We set out at 3 p.m. and our estimated arrival time was at 7 p.m. Along the way, Penny, sitting in front, played the radio until we entered the thick forest of Bayou. Then, because we couldn’t receive radio transmission, Penny abruptly switched it off with a moan.

         Luckily, Ari said he had stashed his guitar somewhere and proceeded to entertain us during most of the journey. I wasn’t really aware of what was going on, because during the last half of the journey, I had already nodded off to sleep, sometimes leaning against Skye’s shoulder, sometimes against Que’s, though I always righted myself whenever I was aware it was happening.

         We arrived later than anticipated, at almost eight o’clock. When we arrived, we found the two forest rangers, Mel and Pet, who would be handling us welcoming us. They then proceeded to show us our quarters, made out of logs. There were two huts available: one for the men and one for the women. There were only two mobile toilets, and I overheard Penny commenting that she would be sure to be the first in line to use them tomorrow morning.

         After a dinner of spaghetti with canned sauce and meatballs, we tiredly trudged back to our huts for some much-needed rest. I learned later that Uncle C. had already gone home and would only return to pick us up on Friday. When asked, Penny told me that some of the gang had been here once, though it had been a long time ago. Before I drifted off to sleep on my hard bunk bed, the Henri-and-me folded tabloid picture comfortingly grasped in my hand below the pillow under my head, I overheard Penny whining to Skye that the government was sure trying too hard to decrease their budget costs. She hinted that the camp looked as if it had nothing to offer. And that was the last I remembered.

         I learned from Mel the next day that it was the first camping session they had to offer to anyone, period. When I asked some more, she admitted having a high-ranking uncle in the Ministry of Defense. When she told him she wanted to be a camp counselor and asked him for guidance and assistance, he had promptly recommended her to the ministry, and that was how the Fighters were sent there on such short notice.

         Even though she claimed it was her first time managing a training camp, I realized that her partnership with Pet wasn’t that bad, either. In fact, I learned a lot of new stuff from them, such as how different colors affect people differently, and learned to view the world from a different perspective, even though Penny protested they were only recycling the same old stuff over and over again.

         For the first four days, we had nothing but workshops, with the occasional strength and endurance training. Usually, when the others went for jungle trekking, I’d be left alone because of my still weak and slow legs. But I used the time wisely, flexing my leg muscles and doing handgrip exercises as well as testing their power and resilience.

         Sometimes we went birdwatching, taking our binoculars with us, and sometimes we climbed up to a treehouse in the jungle overlooking a small watering hole and waited until nighttime. That was when the wild boars, tapirs, mousedeers and other wildlife came out to drink. I used to take short naps then until the others roused me awake in the middle of the night when the animals chose to appear.

         Sometimes, when we were lucky, we saw the stripes of a tiger streaking nearby. At times like this, I was always aware of the others’ comfortingly constant and easygoing camaraderie around me. Then, I would look up through the leafy foliage at the distant stars shining above, breathe in the somewhat humid air with the damp jungle-scented breeze – knowing perfectly well that it would be a long time before I could repeat this again - and count my blessings.

 

 

19) Counseling

 

         By Friday, the last day there, Penny was objecting to the strenuous exercise regime and was sure her calves would bulge with stone-hard muscles if she didn’t watch out soon. I realized that though I did not participate much in the games and physical training for fear of injury, and that though Penny complained about being tired, she, much like the rest, was strong enough to walk about and bicker about the most mundane things. I held their apparent spirit and stamina in high esteem and told her so, making her break into smiles and stop criticizing everything in sight. Under their breath, the guys whispered their thanks for putting an end to her seemingly endless tirade.

         Perhaps due to Penny’s outburst, Mel and Pet informed us that there would be group counseling and communication workshops. This caused a lot of consternation amongst us.

          “Counseling?” Skye had remarked. “Feels like I’m a small kid being sent to the principal’s office all over again.”

          “Why should we undergo more workshops?” Ari questioned. “I’m sure our communication skills are commendable.” He looked around for support and Que and Qit applauded.

          “Well,” Mel had said, frowning over the paper she held in one hand. “They did mention specifically that you needed to sharpen your communication skills. They especially stressed the importance of understanding, respect, loyalty, dependability, teamwork, having faith in others and above all, two-way communication amongst you.”

         Her speech caused deathly silence all around the dingy little room. I knew she had struck a nerve then.

         After that, the gang gamely agreed and participated well in the various teambuilding activities. After lunch of boiled corn, peas, potatoes, yam, tapioca and some side dishes made out of grated coconut, mayonnaise, butter and cheese, we were ready for the counseling session.

         Unlike before, Mel was not being very specific. “I want you to propose a topic which we will use to discuss later,” she had smiled at us as we sat in steel chairs arranged in a circular pattern around her.

         Most of us were stumped, but only for a split second.

          “Food,” Ari yelled out.

          “Please, Ari,” Mel said patiently. “Something related to communication is what I was aiming for. Perhaps, emotions? Or maybe our different mindsets? Something along that line. I promise your answers will not be revealed or discussed outside this room, so please feel at ease.”

          “Girls, then,” Qit proffered with Ari snickering beside him.

          “How about discussing our idea on the perfect man?” Penny suggested next with a dreamy look in her eyes. Then she quickly added, “Or woman.”

          “Bingo!” Mel had agreed. I had the suspicion that, like Penny, she was also a romantic at heart despite her tough demeanor. “Why don’t we discuss that?”

          “But, but,” Skye began hesitantly. “What about us who are already married?”

          “Oh, pooh,” Penny scoffed. “You can just describe Dark, then. Or if you want, you can always come up with an imaginary Dream Guy. He doesn’t have to exist to be real, right?” At this, Mel nodded her agreement.

         I saw a pained expression on Skye’s face. “That’s below the belt, Penny.”

          “Sorry,” shrugged Penny. “But lighten up, Skye! We’re here to have fun, despite the commando training and such. Besides, we’re gonna go home soon! Think about it.”

         At Penny’s question, Mel asked all of us to draw a chart each of the person’s attributes: his looks, characteristics, mannerisms, occupation and anything else that we could think of. As we went around the circle half and hour later, starting with Ari, most of us burst out guffawing when he expectedly described the wifely Joy, stating that she was the type to bring out the slippers for him, cooking and feeding him tasty food most days, and finally admitting by the end of the day, he was the one who had to give her a back rub because she had overexerted herself.

         Qit was next. Mel took down Ari’s chart from the board and pinned Qit’s instead. We were all giggling, ready to ridicule the still eligible bachelor about his Dream Girl, but Qit had evidently overseen this and was very vague about his requirements. I quickly resolved that a great population of women all around the world would have fit his description.

         When it was Que’s turn, I somehow got the impression that the gang was expectant as well as ironically quiet and fidgety. I shrugged this off as a result of my imagination, then listened interestedly as he described one who seemed to be the direct opposite of him in all attributes. I smirked, knowing that this wasn’t a description of Lawles. I further deduced that he was describing his long lost love instead.

         Penny on the other hand described a person who was none other than her Hunky Dream Guy from the army barracks. I almost rolled with laughter when Ari exposed her Dream Guy’s identity and pointed out she had to ditch her present boyfriend first before snaring Hunky Guy. She merely gave him a stony look in response and sat down, arms folded, sulking.

         Skye seemed slightly reluctant to pass her chart to Mel to pin up. After a short coughing fit, she finally proceeded to read out her list. Rather than depicting Dark, she went on to read what I assumed was what she wanted to ask from her husband, if only she had the guts to ask it of him: respect, friendship, trust, laughter, fair-mindedness and loyalty. I thought she looked slightly misty-eyed as the guys cheered her agreeably when she sat down, but I couldn’t be sure.

          “So, it’s finally your turn, Azure,” Mel had smiled at me. I stiffened as I passed my chart to her, feeling the others’ eager eyes piercing me. “I know you’re still recuperating, so don’t stress yourself too much on this simple exercise.”

         I inhaled and cleared my throat self-consciously, sensing the others leaning forward and pricking their nosy ears. I knew I had no inkling about my personal preferences before, but somehow the way my hand had furiously penned the list comforted me and gave me courage. So I proceeded to read the list I held in my hand.

          “First of all,” I began shyly, trusting my instincts. “About his physical attributes, he doesn’t have to be handsome, or dashing, or anything else for that matter. I don’t like flashy guys, though I do hope he has slanting eyes. I’d be happy to get someone with a pleasant countenance that I find appealing on a personal level. I don’t want high maintenance guys, I’d hate to have to keep on constantly fending other rivals off my man. And I prefer him to be lesser in the looks department so people won’t compliment him more than me.”

         I giggled as the others snickered good-naturedly around me. “Height doesn’t really matter, though he shouldn’t be shorter than me. Weight is debatable: I wouldn’t mind a jovial chubby teddy bear, but not an obese one.”

         The others smiled, rather nervously I decided, as they asked me to continue. “A good sense of humor is essential. I don’t want him not getting my jokes and one-liners, with me having to prompt him by laughing first. He should be wiser than me, matured, perhaps a few years older than me, hardworking, patient and tolerant, treat me nice, able to give me proper guidance, maybe work in the service sector and he doesn’t have to be a genius as long as he doesn’t mind me showing off my intellect once in a while.

          “Other than that, he should be easy to get along with, friendly, doesn’t have to be rich, ‘cuz we already make a lot, right?” I winked at Skye before continuing, “I’d like him to be dependable, trustworthy, like me as I am, not for the wrong reasons, and he can be clumsy and awkward at times but that’s OK. Oh, yes, and he should be able to appreciate anything Maranganese, too. Well, that about sums it up.” I sat down and looked at Mel.

          “That’s quite a detailed list you have there,” Mel finally noted.

          “Yeah, well,” I replied offhandedly. “This does after all have an impact on my life, you know.”

          “I’m sure of that, plus the fact that all of you, at 25 years of age, should be well experienced with the various degrees of interpersonal relationships,” Mel then commented. “And can you think of the reason why we did this little exercise?”

          “To find out who our guy or girl is?” Penny fluttered her eyelashes hopefully.

          “Well, not exactly,” Mel disagreed. “You know what they say, the eyes are windows to the world. Sometimes, what you seek in others is actually what you know in your subconscious others seek from you. To like a person, you have to be on par with him, or her, at some level. It doesn’t necessarily have to be in everything. And yes, opposites do attract sometimes. But for that to happen, a common bond that both of you share should already exist. It could be anything, from language, belief or custom, to a similar background or preference. Much like all of you gathered here today.

         ”Your words can show who you really are, what you feel inside, your fears, what you think others think of you. The motive of this exercise is for you to recognize this and channel your energy and mind more positively. For you to open up to one another and communicate truthfully, honestly – this is very important in a team.”

         We listened aptly, glancing at one another, accepting the logic behind her theory, even though we didn’t completely agree with all that she said.

          “Like I said, what you expect from others is what others expect from you,” Mel continued. “Like you, Skye, you said you wanted respect and warmth. I know as a person, you are a warm and loving individual, but I have to admit I don’t know how you’d act in private. Though I assume there wouldn’t be that many differences, I’d still like to advice you to ask yourself whether you have given or will give the same amount of respect and warmth to the said person. Have you done your all? Do you think you deserve the respect and warmth you want from him, when you yourself give nothing in return?”

         Skye looked down to the cold and slightly cracked cement floor, seemingly lost in thought.

          “And you, Qit,” she called out and Qit quickly snapped to attention. “Did you realize you’ve left out much of the flesh on your girlfriend’s description? Or was it intentionally done so that the others won’t poke fun at you?”

         Qit nodded after the second question.

          “Well, you may not be aware of it but by being pretty obscure about your preferences, you gave me the impression that you don’t actually know yourself that well yet. I don’t know why, or perhaps some event has triggered that doubt in you. You are still unsure of your purpose, your reason for being, and your destination in life. And until you learn more about yourself, you’re not ready for commitments, at least not just yet. Am I right?”

         Qit stared at the smiling Mel before nodding quietly.

          “Ari, I’m glad that you seem to have found your ideal better half,” remarked Mel, and Ari beamed at the compliment. “But somehow your speech seems to point toward one thing: you’re tiring her down.”

         While Qit laughed and slapped Ari’s back, Ari shrugged, “She’s five months along.”

          “Congratulations, then,” grinned Mel. “But you know, she is at a delicate stage. Perhaps you should pamper her more, ease her burden somewhat. Comfort her and nourish her, don’t let her do so many things just to please you.”

         Again, Ari shrugged. “She’s darned obstinate sometimes. She keeps insisting she needs to do chores around the house, and won’t let me help her.”

          “Then I see it as your duty to have a quiet chat with her,” Mel determined. “Try to comfort her, soothe whatever fears that are troubling her. Tell her she doesn’t have to be a Superwoman just to capture your heart, because she already has it.”

          “You talk like poetry,” Penny commented dreamily. “Mind if I jot down your words to use in my love letters?”

         Mel ignored her question and drove straight to the point. “Penny, you are an obnoxious little brat who’s probably been pampered too much by her uncle,” she decided, shocking us with her bluntness and unsettling Penny. “You either don’t seem to be aware or care that others sometimes find your words offensive.”

          “Yeah, that’s what they always say,” Penny complained.

          “So what’s stopping you from stopping them? Have more faith and respect for others, Penny, and they will do the same to you. Stop playing the fool when you’re serious, and stop being so serious when you’re joking. Being mysterious and making people confused are two very different things: you need to distinguish one from the other.”

         Penny gave Mel a look that clearly showed Mel had irked her. “I don’t need to be told all this.”

          “Oh, yes, you do,” Mel had replied earnestly. “All this while, your uncle has been the one overseeing your progress every step of the way. It’s time for you to move on, leave his shadow and become an independent woman. You should know better.”

         Penny pouted, not liking this at all.

          “And for starters, I suggest you be more open, more honest to yourself. Ask yourself what you want out of life, and live a more meaningful one. Exteriors seldom matter, so don’t just judge a book by its cover. Walls may crumble, you know.”

         Que then raised his gaze to meet Mel’s eyes as she shifted to face him.

          “My poor Que,” was what Mel murmured. “You seem to have had your grasp on something very precious in your life. Then, whether it was just a cruel twist of fate or you simply slipped during a moment of weakness, it has gone, away from your reach. The part where you still delve in the past is tragic, Que. Try to move on. But the part where you still hold on to those fond memories point toward you believing that you are near to making your ardent wish come true. Am I right so far?”

         Que seemed stumped, but then, recovering, he quickly answered by nodding.

          “You also seem to be fixed in the belief that your Dream Date is the total opposite of you,” Mel continued her narration. “But your obvious effort in portraying her to be so seems to point to the opposite.” She stared at the gaping Que meaningfully, adding slyly, “Isn’t that so, Que?’

         Stupefied, Que could only nod his head wordlessly.

          “She does seem to possess some traits that are also apparent in you,” Mel went on. “There seems to be some sort of common ground where you can both meet each other half-way. I’m sorry you had to struggle very hard to get to where you are today, striving and staking your life for that one belief you truly, and almost desperately, cling onto. I know a luckier person bearing your good traits and attributes wouldn’t normally have to face the tribulations you suffered. It doesn’t seem right somehow, but then life is never fair. You have to keep on searching for the silver lining in your cloud, Que. I know you’ll find it one day if you believe in yourself and your abilities.”

         Que seemed so grateful and appreciative to this advice that he actually choked with emotion. All of us seemed embarrassed by this and avoided looking at him.

          “And now it’s your turn, Azure dearie,” said Mel as she swiveled around to finally face me. “Again, I am sorry if you aren’t sure whether these are the same attributes you would have chosen had you not lost your memory. I don’t know for sure myself, but I guess it would have turned out similar after all.

          “The fact that you have a detailed list signifies that you have been giving this idea a lot of thought, way before your half-hour brainstorming session. And the fact that you have a somewhat clear vision of your Ideal Man seems to point that you have come across or been acquainted to someone matching the descriptions, but whether you know of him in the past or present I have no way to tell.

          “Forgive me for saying this, but you also seem to have low self esteem. Why then did you purposely seek somebody who isn’t exactly the perfect specimen of the Dream Guy, as set by our modern society? I have the feeling that you want such a man you might feel safe and comfortable with, both in public and in private, and perhaps one who is apt to pamper you as well as be dominated to a certain extent. You also seem to believe that your Dream Guy’s characteristics matches yours at some level.”

          “Whew,” I finally murmured, shaking slightly. “You really blew my mind. Feels as if you peeped into my soul just now. You sure you’re not psychic?”

          “I’m not,” Mel answered with a laugh.

          “It’s almost like she could see us naked,” Penny whispered to me.

          “She was an analyst before,” Skye supplied. “Before she gave up her practice.”

          “No kidding,” I whispered back.

         There was a buzz around the room as we all discussed our answers and the hidden motives behind them. Pet chose that moment to knock on the door and asked Mel to be excused for a while. Mel stepped out with him, only to return a minute later bearing wonderful news for us.

          “Everyone,” she called out to us as she strode into the room. We all looked up at her and paid attention. “Listen up. I have great news for you. Your Uncle Cardon called up asking whether he could meet you guys in town instead, about half an hour away. Pet has already told him yes. So pack your things, gang. Pet and I’ll drive you there after tea.”

         We followed her excitedly to the makeshift dining hall and tucked in to a meal of dry biscuits, fruits and Camerodian tea, all the while talking excitedly, eager at the prospect of finally going home. After finishing, all of us raced for our rooms, anxious to pack. I merely dumped all my clothes into my bag, pushing them down to make more room at the top. Penny was whooping around the room about how she hoped she could go shopping in town.

         Pretty soon we were in Mel’s green old jeep. Pet was driving with Skye sitting beside him. The others, including me and Mel, all sat outside at the back. I preferred it this way, having the welcomed wind blowing at my face, flushing my cheeks slightly, or so Que pointed out to me. Sometimes Pet would honk away startled deers off the trail, and sometimes he would holler back at us to duck because of approaching overhanging branches.

 

 

20) Returning Home

 

         Once we arrived in the sleepy town after actually forty-five minutes of travel, Pet stopped in front of the only supermarket around. We all jumped down from the back as Skye and Pet stepped down.

          “Look,” said Pet, lighting a cigarette. I wondered where he’d bought it. “Mel and I are gonna do some grocery shopping. Why don’t you kids take a look around while waiting for Cardon? I’m sure he’ll be arriving soon. Just don’t forget to meet us one last time before you go, OK?”

          “I think you’d be pleased to know that your mobile phones should be working now,” added Mel with a smile. “We are after all out of the jungle.”

         We checked our phones, and were pleased to see that they now indicated signal bars on the display panel. We chucked our belongings onto the front seats before Pet locked the doors, then waved at him and Mel as we walked down the street, noticing that there were only a few rows of shops evident.

          “Look, why don’t we girls go one way and you guys go another?” Penny suggested, looking up at Ari. “We don’t want to bore you any more than we want you to bore us.”

          “Sure,” Qit commented amicably, shoving at Ari and Que to get a move on. “We’ll see you guys later, alright?”

         So Penny, Skye and I trudged down the street, buying some candies at the local candy store, browsing through the interesting items they sold at the small antique shop and Skye showing off her violin skills at an old dusty shop selling a few musical instruments. I was astounded, not realizing that she was a genius with the violin. Finally, Penny stopped in her tracks in the middle of the pavement to gasp at something.

          “A bridal boutique,” she marveled, pointing it out to us. “At this god forsaken place? I got to check this out.”

         So we stepped in, curious to see what kinds of designs they could possibly have. Penny noted that unlike the more modern and sexier designs in Kismet Kesuma, the gowns on display seemed more traditional. Nevertheless, I had to admit that the old-fashioned clothes had a refreshingly nostalgic and romantic touch to them.

          “We’re just browsing,” Penny told the friendly boutique owner. “Do you think we could perhaps try out some of your beautiful quaint creations?”

          “Sure,” the kindly woman laughed, then called out to a couple she had been attending to. “Char, I think they can solve your problem. You see, girls, Char is getting married to Herek here, early next month. But she is rather shy about trying out the outfits.” I looked down at her somewhat prominent abdomen, and realized why she was reluctant to try her wedding gown.

          “Great,” Penny was telling Char earnestly. “Why don’t we parade up and down for you? I’m sure it’ll be easier for you to choose then. Let me try first.”

         So Char pointed out the three outfits she had selected and Penny took one to the dressing room. I stepped out for a while, using my phone to call Henri. I couldn’t wait to go home and see him soon. But I kept being diverted to his voice message box instead. After several attempts, I left a message for him, telling him we’d be going back soon.

         Pretty soon, the boutique door creaked open and Penny popped her head out. I smiled at the elaborate hand-stitched motifs bordering her taffeta satin gown.

          “You’re next,” Penny told me. I quickly followed her in, just as Skye stepped out of the dressing room, looking resplendent in a hazy white lace outfit. Char quickly came forward and passed to me the third wedding gown to try.

         After I had put on the simple embroidered cotton dress with a wide embroidered sash around the waist and a circlet of flowers atop my head, I pushed aside the drapes and approached the eagerly waiting Penny and Char. I twirled around while Char remarked excitedly that she was going to choose my simple outfit after all. Then, as Char and her fiancé went to discuss with the boutique owner, Penny pulled my hand and dragged me to the display window.

          “Hey, what’s this?” I exclaimed, a little perplexed.

          “Just a little test,” Penny had sniggered as Skye looked on at us wonderingly. Penny then pushed the display mannequins aside and shoved me quite forcibly till I almost hit the window. I sputtered, my palms pressed flat against the windowpane, then realized I was looking up at Que’s startled eyes from where he stood on the pavement just outside the window.

          “You’re dead meat,” I swung around, my face flushed and my eyes glaring, punching Penny again and again on the shoulder. But I guess it didn’t hurt her much, because she kept on laughing through it all, guffawing so hard her face turned red.

          “That was priceless,” she wheezed as the boutique door opened slowly and the guys trooped in tentatively. “I wish I had a camera.”

          “That was cruel, Penny,” Skye told her. “But when did you call Que? I didn’t see you using your phone.”

          “Just now,” she gasped and laughed so hard tears came to her eyes. “When I was changing.” I was about to throttle her when I chanced to see a fourth face peer in through the door after Ari.

          “Hen?” I couldn’t believe my eyes.

          “Hello, Bright Eyes,” Henri greeted me, hands in his pockets as he sauntered over with that ever-constant saucy smile playing on his lips, taking in my simple bridal gown. “How come you never sent me your wedding invitation, huh?”

          “Hen!” I cried delightedly as I ran toward him, jumped and flung my arms around his neck.

          “Happy to see me?” he laughed as he tried to disengage himself from my clinging hands. “The assignment ended early, so I asked Uncle C. to pick me up at the airport. In fact, we had only just arrived.”

          “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” I swiped a playful punch at his chest.

          “I couldn’t call you on your cell phone,” he explained. “Besides, I wanted to surprise you. I’ve brought something for you from Jami Jami. It’s in my bag. We’ll go get it later, I promise.”

         I looked around and was surprised to catch Que staring at me intensely. For some reason, this made me uncomfortable, and I quickly excused myself to change back into my multicolored jeans and black T-shirt.

         When Penny, Skye and I had all changed and returned the wedding gowns, the proprietor and Char thanked us profusely, much to our embarrassment. Then, I linked arms with Henri and Skye and all seven of us walked all the way back to the supermarket. There, we found the ARV parked besides Pet’s 4WD, and Uncle C. himself leaning against the car, chatting with Pet and Mel.

         We thanked Mel and Pet for putting up with us all this while, and went into the shop to purchase some drinks and snacks to enjoy on the way back. Then we waved back gaily out through the windows at Mel and Pet as Uncle C. drove off.

         On the way, I told Henri everything we had gone through for the past one week and made a passing remark that the girl in the shop, Char, had been pregnant.

          “Yes,” Henri had commented. “I noticed that. So?”

         I looked at him, wondering how to rephrase my answer and wondering also why I had brought the subject up in the first place. “It’s just that she’s getting married only after she’s pregnant.”

         Henri had shrugged. “What about it? A lot of people do that nowadays. Heck, I don’t necessarily agree to it but that’s just the way of the world today, I guess.”

         I stared at him wonderingly. “Forgive me for being old-fashioned, but I believe getting pregnant before marriage is a major no-no,” I declared firmly. Around me, everyone was quiet and I knew they were paying close attention to my self-righteous statement.

         Henri stared back at me, a strange look in his eyes. “You of all people shouldn’t be so judgmental on others,” he finally commented. Then, when I opened my mouth to speak, he quickly cut me off. "OK, OK now -–stop it. I refuse to continue this conversation with you.”

         I bit my lip uncertainly and kept silent. We both kept that way for some time.

         After a while, Henri took a cute fuzzy little teddy bear wearing the Jami Jami traditional dress made out of grass out of his bag and passed it to me. “Here, this one’s for you.”

          “So where’s mine, Henri?” asked Penny from the front seat. “You’d better not forget.”

          “I only bought chocolates for you guys,” Henri laughed and took them out to pass around.

         I popped one piece of jelly covered with chocolate into my mouth and chewed absent-mindedly, staring at the teddy bear in my hand. For some reason, the sight of it distressed me. But I quickly pasted a smile on my face and thanked the beaming Henri sweetly.

         Henri then tapped Skye on the shoulder and she turned back to look imploringly at him.

          “You are aware that we’re gonna hold the charity concert soon, right?” he asked her. “And that the charity ball’s gonna be following soon after?”

          “Yes,” thanked Skye. Then she turned to address me. “I almost forgot to remind you, Azure. There’s gonna be a poll soon to nominate people who are going to be involved in both events. I think they’ll read the results tomorrow.”

          “Am I involved, too?” I asked, wide-eyed.

          “Sure,” replied Skye, smirking. “Your name’s on the list.”

          “I wonder what they have in store for us this year?” Penny thought out loud.

          “Is this charity thingy an annual event?” I turned and asked Que. He seemed to ponder before answering.

          “You know what,” he smiled at me kindly. “Now that you mention it, the government does hold them every year. But it wasn’t designed to be so. We’ve noticed that the two events are usually coincidental with the Melizian dollar dropping dangerously low.”

          “But how can that actually help the economy?” I asked, perplexed.

          “You won’t believe the throng of people who would come all the way from around the world to watch the Fighters in action,” he explained patiently. “Tourism will get a great boost out of this, hotel occupation will be on an all-time high, what with the tourists flocking here, staying here, eating here, basically spending their hard-earned money here.”

          “Really?” I remarked, finally understanding. “I didn’t know it would have that kind of effect.”

          “It does, actually,” Que smiled, his eyes crinkling enchantingly at the corners. “You’d be able to experience it yourself very soon.”

          “So what do we do anyway?” I was eager to find out.

          “That’s where whatever you’ve learned come into practice,” Henri cut in, and I turned around to gaze at him. “Any talent that you’re confident with is OK. The usual is singing, dancing or pantomimes.”

          “Yeah,” added Penny’s voice from in front. “And Skye here is usually the prima donna.”

          “That’s because she happens to be way more talented than you’ll ever hope to be,” Henri laughed and Penny climbed onto her seat to lean forward and swipe at him angrily with a roll of newspaper.

         After that, we all focussed on finishing our drinks and snacks. I fell into a deep sleep after adjusting my posture more comfortably and leaning against Henri’s shoulder.

         When we got home, I was glad to see that the stair-lift and wall-railings had been taken out. This had been done so perfectly that one would never have known they had been there in the first place unless being told about it.

         As for the teddy bear, I put it on my dressing table. For some reason, I never touched it again until years later, when I finally threw the by then gray-with-dust bear out with the rubbish.

 





 

21) The Curious Visitor

 

         After breakfast at the mansion the next day, Skye kissed me goodbye before rushing off with Dark at her heels. I was happy to see that Dark, who I made out to be an army intelligence officer, was leaving for work with Skye, as it should be. The others also made their excuse some moments later and Henri actually tweaked my cheek but laughingly got out of the way when I lunged at him angrily.

         Since the place seemed empty without the others, I walked around the grounds, saying hello to the shy young gardeners mowing the grass and trimming the hedges outside. Finally, I felt a sudden urge to go for a swim, so I rushed upstairs, changed into the least revealing swimming suit I could find, put on a calf-long terry robe and raced downstairs. I told Ms. Sandy that I’d be at the pool should anyone come looking for me.

         I then reached the pool and locked the door behind me for fear that somebody would creep in and see me. I hung the terry robe on a hook, took a quick shower and then went to the shallow end of the pool. I entered slowly, trying to get used to the cold sensation, until I found myself submerged from the torso down. By this time, I became a little anxious, because I wasn’t all too sure about my swimming ability. Could I swim before? I just couldn’t recall.

         I decided to test my ability gently, and that I shouldn’t expect too much. I knew I had to be careful as the door was locked and no one was about to come and rescue me should I drown.
         I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, and started with a slow dog paddle. I quickly panicked when I realized my buoyancy wasn’t much to begin with, and that I was sinking fast. I sputtered as water entered my mouth and nostrils and when my desperately kicking legs met the tiles at the bottom of the pool, I quickly forced myself to stand up. I was very much relieved to find that the water then only came up to my chin and slowly waded my way out.

         I decided to check the locker room instead. Inside, I found some interesting things including a stack of clean soft towels, some wire hangers, a beach ball, a polystyrene float, a rubber tire, an inflatable dinghy with the paddles still attached, and at the very end, almost unnoticed, old but still unused, was a pack of cigarettes and a packet of condoms.

         I stared at the last two items, trying to guess who put them there, and shook my head when I drew a blank. I also wondered where exactly the person bought his cigarettes, because it was actually illegal for people to sell cigarettes and liquor, among other things, in Melize, though strangely enough there were no actual laws against people smoking or drinking.

         I took them in my hands, questioned why they were there where anybody could gain access to it, and then quickly flung them back in disgust when I realized I was actually touching them. I rubbed my palms against my suit and reminded myself that there were married couples staying here also, and what they did with the condoms in the pool should not be of any concern to me.

         I used the float, tire and dinghy one after the other, glad that they helped me with my buoyancy problem. After a while my arms and legs ached and my heart felt strained under the exertion. So I decided to take things easy, realizing how it would have been more fun if the others had been there to join me.
         Just then, the doorknob jingled. I looked up in dismay and quickly made my way out of the pool. Somebody banged on the door, but I ignored it, returning the dinghy to the lockers, putting on my robe in record time and flinging a towel across my shoulders. As I hurriedly made my way to the door, I saw the door shake forcibly.

          “Azure!” I heard Henri’s muffled shout. “Are you OK in there? Open up before we tear the door down!”

         In a flash I was at the door and opening it swiftly. Henri and Que tumbled in, lying on a heap on the floor. I frowned down at them, still dripping wet, as they sheepishly got to their feet and brushed off dirt from their clothes.

          “It’s dangerous to lock the door when you’re in here alone,” Que admonished.

         I sighed and said, “Yes, I know.” Then I stared at the two, a little confused. “I thought you guys weren’t be coming back till one. What are you doing here now?”

         Henri frowned back at me. “It is one o’clock already. Why on earth do you think we panicked when Sandy told us you had been cooped up here for ages?”

          “Really?” I muttered. “I didn’t realize time moved so quickly.” I rubbed my still dripping hair then wrapped the towel all around it. This done, I walked out barefoot into the corridor, the two quickly falling in step with me.

          “The decision has been made,” Henri told me as we climbed up the stairs. “You won’t have to participate actively in the concert, just props and such.”

          “Yes,” added Que. “But you, same as Penny, have been chosen to participate in the charity gala.”

          “Really?” I asked interestedly. “Doing what?”

         Que hesitated and glanced worriedly at Henri before answering, “For this year, the committee has decided to hold a human auction.”

         I stared at him disbelievingly. “Say what?”

          “Oh, you know,” Henri interjected. “Much like a normal auction. But instead of auctioning objects, this time we’re gonna auction people.”

          “As slaves?” I cried. “What is this, the middle ages? Stonehenge?”

          “No, no,” said Que quickly, trying to calm me down. “It’s not like that at all. People are going to bid for the participants, and the highest bidder will get to go on a date with the person he bid for.”

          “You’re kidding,” I decided, staring at Que.

          “I’m not,” assured Que exasperatedly.

         I turned to Henri and made my plea. “Please, Henri, bid for me then.”

         A look of alarm flit across Henri’s face. “I can’t do that, I’m sorry. I have other plans, you see.”

          “What if my bidder is a monster?” I wailed. “What if he’s a rapist or a serial killer? What’ll happen to me then?”

         Henri glanced at Que, and on their faces were a mixture of amusement and pity.

          “It’s OK, Azure,” said Que patiently. “We’ll make sure that won’t happen to you. I’ll stake my life on that promise.”

          “Besides,” Henri added, “the list of bidders, though confidential, will be screened. And in fact, we foresee that this year’s bidders will mostly consist of well-known dignitaries who we’re already familiar with anyway.”

          “But I really don’t like this idea,” I said sullenly as I sat on the top of the stairs. The others sat down beside me. “Not one bit. Who came up with this stupid idea anyway? It’s sexist and disgusting.”

          “The committee suggested this,” explained Que. “But it was the Country Leader who approved it.”

          “Oh,” I was stumped.

          “Don’t worry, Azure,” Henri smiled brightly as he gave me a slap on the knee. “Penny’ll keep you company, although I have a feeling she doesn’t mind this one bit. Besides, if you must know, guys will be auctioned off, too, so it’s no sexist thing. Even some married officers have been chosen, too. Think of it as being fun, and you’ll get the main idea.”

          “Well, what choice do I have anyway?” I summarized dejectedly as I stood up and went to my room, closing the door behind me.

         On Monday, Qit complained during breakfast that he was rather short-staffed. He was doing research on some technology transfer thing from Marang. He was supposed to have his work completed within a week, and what with concert rehearsals going on, he needed all the help he could get.

          “Why are you asking me?” Skye had asked while stirring her rice porridge. “It’s not that we don’t want to help you, it’s just that we’re all rather tied up at this moment. Tell me, are you having problems with Maranganese?”

         Qit had nodded, admitting that he was rather weak in that language.

         Skye nodded at me. “She’s your answer then,” she calmly said to Qit.

         I whirled around, surprised. “What are you saying? Am I supposed to help Qit with his work?”

          “You’ve got a problem with that?” Skye challenged me. “You’re supposed to start work middle of the week anyway. I don’t see any problem in you starting work one or two days earlier. After all, Qit does need all the help he can get.”

          “But I’m not sure whether I can remember my Maranganese,” I wailed out.

          “Nonsense,” Skye decided. “If you can remember how to speak Melizian, which wasn’t your mother tongue to begin with, I’m sure you’d have no problem with Maranganese.”

         I stared at her, chewing my lower lip, realizing I was defeated and had no choice but to comply. I stole a glance at Qit, noticed his unhappy look and realized he wasn’t very comfortable with the arrangement, too.

         So all throughout the week, Qit and I spent most of our waking hours in the national library, thankfully opened 24 hours a day, in Kismet Kesuma. He was studiously intense when working, seldom wasting words unnecessarily, which at the best of times were pretty concise and precise. At first, this bothered me, and I couldn’t help feeling he disliked me for some reason and wasn’t very comfortable being in close proximity with me. But as the days progressed, I was too caught up with work to care much.

         I helped him mostly with translations, mainly with the help of translation dictionaries, as well as editing and typing his report, but toward the end of the week, he sought my assistance in researching for past technological news. As a consequence, I spent Thursday and Friday penned up in the library archives room, searching for relevant news in the library’s computer files.

         By Friday afternoon, I was pretty pleased with the outcome. Then, to try and relieve stress as well as occupy my time, I tried searching for the word ‘Fighter’. Most results concerned news on the gang’s visits, functions and meetings covered by the Melizian media. Dissatisfied with the boring results, I went back through the years, and finally found out that both Skye and Ari had married slightly more than three years ago. Skye’s wedding had been held prior to Ari’s though.

         Insatiable for more news, I tried skipping back even further until the headline Fighters’ Scandal: Government Keeping Mum screamed out at me. Curious, I noted with interest that I would have been around seventeen when the article was published. I began reading intently, eager to discover what the controversy was all about. I only knew that two Fighters were involved and that the government had refused to comment much. While I was trying to determine the exact nature of the scandal, Qit chose that exact moment to check in on me.

          “What are you up to?” he asked as he peered through the opened door. I jumped, then grinned at him sheepishly.

          “I’m all set,” I explained. “My half is done. Just doing some checking, that’s all.”

          “Good, then,” Qit began, then frowned when he saw what I was reading and strode purposefully toward me.

          “Hey!” I cried at him in surprise as he abruptly switched off the main switch without even shutting down the terminal first.

          “Must I remind you,” he said quietly, avoiding my flashing eyes, “that we’re here to complete our work? Let’s go and print the report out and not waste time, shall we?”

          “Well, OK since you asked so nicely,” I replied sarcastically, sour-faced. He didn’t have to be so curt and strict; it wasn’t as if I had shirked from doing my part anyway. Sullenly I stood up and followed him out the door.

         Then, on Saturday morning, as I whistled and washed my car with Henri outside the garage after having finally completed and submitted the accursed technology transfer report, a curious young man suddenly appeared and greeted me warmly.

          “Do I know you?” I asked him as I narrowly avoided his hug.

          “It’s Pereli,” said Henri, ditching his sponge into the water-filled bucket, his hands foaming with soapsuds. I decided from his tone that he wasn’t very happy to see our visitor. “What is it do you want this time?”

         He sulked. “I came because I lost the car, and now I don’t have any money –“ he began before Henri cut him off.

          “You lost the car?” Henri screamed, looking highly upset. He marched up to Pereli and grabbed the front of the latter’s shirt, eyes flashing, looking ready to throttle him to death. I tried to intervene, heard the sound of feet scampering and heaved a sigh of relief as I turned and saw Que hurrying toward us.

          “The security post at the gate alerted me,” he said by way of explanation to an angry Henri after he had shoved the latter and Pereli apart. Then, arms akimbo, he turned to confront the red-faced coughing Pereli who was lying and groaning on the ground. “What do you want anyway?”

          “He claims he’s lost the car,” explained Henri after Pereli refused to answer. “And that he needs more money.”

          “What car? What money?” I asked in bewilderment.

          “Your beautiful Pereli,” Pereli replied chokingly as he slowly got onto his feet. “The one Que gave to me. I’m so sorry, it happened so fast. I parked in an alley, then these sleazeballs jumped on me and took it away. I’ve even lost all my money during the scuffle, and I need some since I’m penniless now.”

          “You crazy old loon,” Henri shouted at him in a threatening manner. I saw Pereli flinch. “I’ve got a good mind to call the mental institution to come and pick you up right now. Can’t you do anything else but disturb other people during your spare time?”

         Que went between the both of them, putting out a restraining arm to stop Henri from advancing any closer to the frightened-looking Pereli. “It’s all right, I’ll handle this,” he told Henri before frowning back at the cowering Pereli and taking his wallet out of his back pocket. He threw a handful of bills at Pereli’s feet and Pereli greedily grabbed them up. “Take that. Now, scram! I don’t want to see your face anywhere near here, you hear?”

         Pereli nodded excitedly, his eyes wide. He stuffed the money into the pockets of his torn leather jacket and walked away down the driveway, skipping gleefully and singing at the top of his lungs. Despite the strong repulsive smell emanating from him, I felt pity for the disheveled young fellow and attempted to call out to him with the intention of giving him a lift, but Que stopped me.

          “Don’t,” he told me, shaking his head. “Forget him. He’s not worth worrying about.” With that, he turned around and stamped back toward the mansion.

          “What was that about?” I asked Henri, confused.

          “Follow whatever Que said,” advised Henri, taking the water hose and spraying the soapsuds off the car. “Don’t bother your pretty little head thinking about it. He’s just a lunatic, anyway. He comes and goes, and is always harassing us for more and more money.”

          “But why did Que willingly give it to him?” I queried, curious to know. “And why does he keep telling me he’s lost his car?”

          “Why concern us in the first place?” Henri shrugged as he went around the car. “Well, he’s just this crazy old guy who always seem down on his luck. We feel sorry for him, but he seems to mistreat our good intentions by being too dependent on us.”

          “But what about the car?” I reminded him.

         He looked at me in exasperation and changed the subject. “Hey, whose car is this we’re washing anyway? You want to finish waxing it today? Well, if you want to do it tomorrow, you can do it yourself.”

          “You don’t have to be so sensitive,” I complained. “I was only asking an innocent question.”

          “Well, stop it,” Henri snapped moodily, ending the conversation. “It’s irritating. Who knows what a kooky guy thinks anyway?”

 

 

22) The Concert

 

         I found out later that the concert, which would be held at the national open-air stadium in Kismet Kesuma, would start on Wednesday night. Flyers and posters had already been put up, and now that the identities of who would participate in the event had been confirmed, new posters bearing the names were to be put up beside the previous ones. I helped Henri, Ari, Que and Qit by driving around town and pasting them up in the middle of the night.

         I heard in the evening news that even though the confirmation of participants for the concert had only been released, news traveled fast. People from everywhere around the world had been thronging into Kismet Kesuma as early as Monday. The promised mob grew in steady numbers and caused shopping malls to be overcrowded and traffic congestion to be at an all-time high. Even us Fighters tried not to go out much, which isn’t very difficult considering that we were pretty tied up with our work anyway.

         I also discovered that the auction had been moved on to Thursday evening and that the charity ball would be held the following night.

          “Why don’t they do everything during the weekend?” I had complained to Henri. “Don’t they know these tourists are pesky and problematic? Causing so much havoc. Besides, how are we going to wake up wide-eyed and bushy-tailed the next morning when we’ve been up all night?”

          “This weekend is coincidentally the Badminton World Championship Tournament in Gebu,” Henri had explained. “Besides, the Country Leader will be visiting Rezajan this Saturday. Who’s gonna officiate the ceremony if we have it this weekend?”

          “Ah, the Deputy can always replace him,” I had pouted. “It’s not like he hasn’t done this before.”

          “Then the dignitaries coming here would be insulted,” Henri had replied, trying to brush my question off. “After all, they had been told they would meet the Country Leader. And all this while, he had made it his duty to do the same thing year in, year out. Why should this year be any different?””

         Other than that, I was glad to help out prepare for the concert. Sometimes I’d creep into the music room, watching and listening in awe as Skye played music on one instrument after the other. But there would also be a traditional dance performance as well as a pantomime to be performed by government officers. Here, I helped the seamstresses prepare the outfits and accessories, ready for the show.

         Tuesday night was the full dress rehearsal, and by then, I heard all seats had been fully booked. I was too busy helping with the props backstage that I didn’t have time to watch the Fighters in action. I did hear strains of music, but was too wrapped up in my work to pay much attention to it.

         On Wednesday itself, I, together with everybody else, arrived at the stadium by nine a.m. As the weather forecast had promised everyone a sunny day, the dome above the stadium had been opened to allow us to view the sky above. We had salad for lunch and dinner, and most of the gang only drank plain water in a bid to take better care of their voices. We ate backstage, sitting on the clothes-strewn floor.

         At seven o’clock, the stadium gates were opened. I helped fit the dancers into their glittery outfits as fast as I could. By fifteen to eight, I saw that most of the seats were already filled. I could sense their restlessness as the clock ticked away, eager for the program to start.

         Finally, at eight o’clock sharp, the curtains were opened. All participants trooped up onto the stage, singing the national anthem. All seated stood up. I watched the participants on stage and the audience alternately from the left wing, thankful when the anthem ended and the choir walked single-file toward the backstage, then I sunk to the ground, exhausted.

         Pretty soon, Dark, acting as the night’s compere and looking smart in a sharp dark suit, came up onstage, greeted everyone and briefed them on the concert’s program. After that, he went offstage, only to appear again and again in between different programs to introduce the performers to the audience.

         The dance troupe then appeared, giving about fifteen minutes’ performance, with short traditional skits held in between the different dance routines. The Country Leader gave his inspiring fifteen-minute speech after that, and the audience gave him a rousing applause.

         Penny came out with her magic tricks, looking classy in a timeless top hat and suit. Her magic tricks weren’t the average pull-a-bunny-out-of-a-top-hat routine, and even included her breathing fire out of her mouth. Henri crept up beside me then, whispering that it was a trick I had taught her a long time ago. When her act ended, she gave a curtsey as the audience clapped thunderously.

         Henri was next. He passed by me and entered the stage, some of the crowds giving him a welcoming clap. It was his first time on stage at the concert, and even though he didn’t seem the least bit daunted by the great number of people staring up at him expectedly, I had no idea how his performance would turn out.

         Henri did a series of mime, and most of his antics were hilarious enough to make some people roll about on their seats. Pretty soon his act was over, and I was glad to know the audience liked him enough to give him a good round of applause. When he walked up to me in the shadows of the drapes, I saw that he was huffing, his face flushed with beads of perspiration. He anxiously asked how he did, and I told him the truth: that he was a natural. That seemed to cheer him up somewhat.

         After that, while the lights were dimmed and an expectant hush, absent before, fell upon the spectators, I saw a few stage hands dressed in black pushing a grand piano on wheels onto the middle of the stage. Then, when the spotlights were switched on again, I saw that the national philharmonic orchestra was assembled not too far from the back, sitting on foldable chairs arranged in a crescent. Applause, including screams and whistles, suddenly reverberated throughout the stadium. I raised my eyes and noticed Skye waltzing in from the other wing, dressed in an elegant silver evening gown.

         She went up to the piano and sat down, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders. As she flexed her fingers, I was amazed at how wild the crowd was going even before she had started doing anything.

          “She’s the star tonight,” Henri had whispered his explanation. “She’s the main reason people come from across the globe to see her live performance first-hand. She’s the reason we’re playing to a full house tonight.”

         I nodded my understanding. Even a fool couldn’t miss how euphoric the crowd felt and how much they loved her - it was so evident. Some were even scrambling to climb onto the stage, though security blocked them off. Others with chivalrous hearts threw bouquets of flowers onto the stage instead.

         When she started playing, accompanied by the orchestra in the background, I knew exactly why she was such a hit with the audience. The piano notes danced gracefully under her dextrous nimble fingers, coaxed to grow from a soft low-keyed tinkling and build into a crescendo.

         When she started singing breathily into the microphone perched atop the piano, her fervent voice seemed to blend perfectly with the musical accompaniments. I, same as the audience, could do nothing but stare at her, transfixed, as the music she played spellbound all around her. I hardly even realized what the song was all about, much less whether the song was familiar to me (though I found out later that the ballad was one of Skye’s and my favorites).

         All in all, it was a romantic love song, about the simple power of love, able to break the iciest of hearts and the hardest of stones. The piano tinkled melodiously under her forceful manipulative fingers, sometimes soft and sweet, sometimes strong and furious. I was so wrapped up in the music when the song progressed toward its climax, Skye’s powerful vocal chords matching the melody harmoniously. Then her voice, as well as the sounds of the piano, tapered off at the end.

         When she stood up to curtsey, the applause she got was thunderous. Even my palms turned painfully red from the furious clapping I gave her. She smiled enchantingly and walked to the edge of the stage, making the crowd wild once more as she stooped down to shake hands with people as well as scoop some bouquets into her arms.

         The next act was a duet by the Harqis twins. Henri winked at me as the brothers left the shadows of the opposite wing and entered the limelight. Behind them, I saw somebody had moved a drum set onto the stage, and that the drummer himself, none other than Ari, was on standby at his seat. An electronic keyboard had also found its way onto the stage, and behind it was Penny, smiling and waving gaily to everyone.

          “If I didn’t know better, I’d say they planned all this so that they won’t have to perform solo,” I whispered to Henri, making him laugh. Just then, with his lead guitar strap hanging from his neck, Que grabbed a microphone and walked up to the edge of the stage, much to the spectators’ delight. I saw some of them, mostly girls, jumping up and down and trying to grab a hold of him through the tight security barricade.

          “Our first number will be something you all are already familiar with,” he began, and I heard somebody shriek out his name. I nudged Henri, pointing toward the first row where Lawles was screaming her head off excitedly.

          “My, my,” intoned Henri sarcastically. “The ambulance had better be here and whisk her away soon.”

          “I used to sing this with someone very dear to me,” Que continued. “But for tonight, I’d like to break the tradition and let my brother Qit sing with me, and my good friends Ari and Penny here are to accompany us on the drums and keyboard.”

         The crowd cheered as Qit, Ari and Penny bowed in the spotlight when their names were mentioned and roared its approval as Que’s deft fingers began plucking the guitar strings. Faster and faster his fingers went till they were just a blur to me, and first Qit with his bass guitar, then Ari and Penny, joined him.

         Que sang first, his mellow tenor timbre already familiar to my ears. Qit started singing on the second stanza, his baritone voice much deeper than his brother’s. On and on they played their number, singing simultaneously when the chorus came.

         It was a funny upbeat song about a pair of lovers promising to stay together through thick and thin despite the sky falling down. I saw some teenagers swept up by the music actually dancing in the aisles.

         When it ended, Que launched into a slow solo number, with Penny’s piano-like tinkling keyboard playing first. Unlike the first happy song, his voice quivered with self-contained emotions surging throughout the sentimental song as he gave his all. He seemed to sing from the bottom of his heart, full of sincerity and regrets, and I couldn’t help feeling as if my heart was being tugged.

         I appreciated his stark display of vulnerability very much, but found the song ending a little too soon. I sighed as Qit took over the microphone, but his fast little number soon had me, like the whole stadium, clapping and stomping along to the beat.

         Once that was over, Que handed his guitar to Qit, who had already put down the bass guitar at his feet. Then Que began strumming a banjo a stagehand had passed to him. As before, he strummed faster and faster and the others all joined him with their musical instruments. Ari’s bass voice, even deeper and lower than Qit’s, reverberated throughout the stadium, sending chills up and down my spine.

         It was a love song, and the way he sang it in his throaty Thanish mother tongue lent a romantic air to it. While singing the chorus, he took out a single red rose stalk from under his jacket and went to the edge of the stage, dropping down onto his knees amid screaming fans. When the spotlight fell on him, I saw that he was proffering the flower to a proud and smiling Joy, who gracefully accepted the stalk and blew him a kiss.

         Very soon, the song was over, and the applause was no less thunderous. As Que, Qit, Ari and Penny made their way offstage, single-file, they exchanged high-fives with Henri and I as they passed by, chattering excitedly.

         The pantomime was next, an interpretation of the Broadway musical Cats and Dogs. Henri’s friends from the Ministry of Defense, Ryo, Bulk and Beatnik, were involved in the production and carried out their roles flawlessly. I looked on proudly as the actors tumbled about in the costumes I had helped with, and was glad to note there hadn’t been any tears in sight in spite of the actors’ required somersaults and acrobatics.

         After it ended, I strained my eyes as the lights were dimmed once again, and when they were switched on again, I saw that the curtain at the back had been lifted and noted the conductor and his orchestra waiting patiently on their seats.

         Very soon, Skye glided onstage from the opposite wing and the crowd broke into a rousing applause again. Once she reached center stage, she flung her arms outward, signaling the crowd to quieten down. They complied and she rewarded them with a grateful smile.

          “This will be our final number for tonight,” she said into the microphone she held in her grasp. Some of the audience booed and whined but she went on. “My only wish is that you enjoy this number. Thank you.”

         Then softly, slowly at first, she opened her mouth and her golden voice floated in the air like gossamer. With no musical instrument to focus on, she for once could give full attention solely to her singing, and I gasped as she sang the first word, in the archaic Laguna language, teasingly stretching it out, and then paused. Only then, taking the cue from her, the orchestra began to play, and she continued.

         She astounded me with her vocal prowess, drawling out her words, being able to sing continuously without a pause, never seeming to tire or gasp for air. It was a sad slow love song, and could be transformed both into a wedding vow or a dirge. It was about how strong a woman’s love for a man was, how she was willing to face all odds and how her love would survive till the end of time even after her mortal remains had crumbled to dust.

         I felt my heart break, looking at her singing her pain out for all to see, and self-consciously wiped away the tears accumulating in my eyes. I leaned back against Henri, sighing contentedly, then looked up and was surprised to see instead Que’s face staring directly out to the stage. Realizing my mistake, I quickly tried to draw myself away but his hand had already grabbed hold of my shoulder and held me in a vice grip. I leaned against him quietly, perhaps a little wonderingly, too, as I breathed in the scent of his heady perfume mixed with perspiration, swallowing uncomfortably as I watched Skye end her performance to a standing ovation.

 

 

23) The Auction

 

         Because the audience had screamed for encore and wouldn’t leave their seats after Skye had ended her performance, all the other Fighters had to troop back onstage again, Skye with a violin perched atop her shoulder; Henri, Que and Qit carrying their acoustic, lead and bass guitar in that order; Ari sitting behind his drums and Penny standing behind her keyboard.

         The crowd roared their approval as each Fighter showed off their skill one by one on their preferred musical instrument. After that, they played simultaneously, each blending melodiously with the other, and launched into a current Top Ten song. Most of the audience either clapped or stamped along with the beat, jumped up and down from where they sat or danced in the aisles. Very soon, the song was over. The Fighters took a final bow and trooped offstage as the audience gave another standing ovation that shook the whole stadium.

          “How come the majority of songs were slow numbers?” I had criticized, whispering to Henri.

          “Because Melizians love it, that’s why,” was his simple honest answer.

         We were all feeling exhausted by the time the last spectator had left and had no energy left to go celebrate at the Pizza Palless as we had planned earlier on. Once we reached home, we all retired to our bedrooms. I fell asleep even before my head hit the pillow.

         I was a nervous wreck the next day. The others tried to give me moral support, but one look at Penny’s happy confident face, whistling away without a care in the world, quickly made me stiffen and clam up. Skye helped me choose my outfit, but because I wasn’t comfortable with some of my unfamiliar old clothes, I finally opted for my new white Maranganese ensemble.

         When I went down the stairs with Skye who wore a lovely colorful silk frock, I saw that the others, including Ari, were already assembled near the bottom of the stairs. Penny looked resplendent in a deep blue velvet gown, with her hair coifed up, exposing the diamond choker she had on her long graceful neck more prominently. She was chatting amiably with her Uncle G., who greeted me warmly with a twinkle in his eyes.

          “I almost mistook you for a Maranganese bride just now,” he had quipped, making my cheeks burn uncontrollably.

          “Are you sure this is a wise idea, dressing in matrimonial white?” Ari had asked me. “We don’t want to give the bidders funny ideas, do we?”

          “I think the dress would suit you better if only you’d chuck the pants out,” Penny had laughed. “Much sexier, too. But then, being the prude you are, I’m sure you don’t have the nerve to do it.”

          “Stop it, you guys,” Skye warned them. “You’re making her more nervous.”

         I was even more nervous when I found out I was supposed to give a five-minute speech onstage to better introduce myself to prospective bidders.

          “What am I supposed to say?” I had wailed.

          “Just the usual,” Henri said, trying in vain to comfort me. Like the other guys, he was attired in a gentlemanly suit that looked smart on him. “Like your name, age, background and interests. That’s all.”

          “There’d better not be chains and shackles lying around,” I complained darkly.

          “Of course not,” Henri had chuckled. “I told you already, this isn’t a slave auction.”

         When we arrived at the elegant wide ballroom within the Country Leader’s official residence, I was glad to note that other than some unfamiliar faces, Ryo, Bulk and Beatnik had also been chosen for the auction exercise. Even Penny’s Hunky Dream Guy was there, too, and she really regretted not having the opportunity to bid for him. I cracked jokes with Ryo, Bulk and Beatnik about the event and they helped me feel more at ease.

         The lights were then dimmed, signaling the start of the program. Penny, Ryo, Bulk, Beatnik and I stood behind the stage, waiting for our names to be mentioned. Dark was the master of ceremony again, and after a brief opening speech from the Country Leader, proceeded to call out the people to be auctioned to come onstage one by one. I really disliked it when, other than name, age and profession, Dark was also reading out the person’s vital statistics, men and women alike.

         I peered out from behind the stage and made out the other Fighters, minus Penny, sitting in the third row. Ryo explained to me that the bidding system was confidential. There was a button placed underneath every seat, and whoever wanted to bid should press it. The bidding amount would be displayed on a liquid crystal display board on the wall. Once the triumphant bidder had made his final bid, nobody would know his identity until the date itself.

          “When will the date be?” I queried, forehead furrowed worriedly.

          “Tomorrow, at the ball,” Ryo had whispered back.

          “And how will we know whether our date is really the successful bidder?” I asked again. “After all, nobody knows his identity. Anybody can just come up and pretend he’s the one.”

          “It’s not as easy as that,” Ryo had answered, shaking his head. “After the auction, successful bidders will be given either a uniformed brooch or a tie pin to be given to his date tomorrow. So we’re supposed to know our date through his or her tie pin or brooch.”

          “Oh,” I had said, stumped for words. After a while, I saw Lawles, clad in a fitting black satin gown, creep up behind Que and tapping him on the shoulder. He looked up at her questioningly, then stood up and followed her as she beckoned him. Curious, I followed them to the back of the last row with my eyes. I saw Lawles giving a gift-wrapped box to Que and was disgusted to see her fling her arms around him and kiss him on the cheek when he cordially accepted it. They parted soon after, each returning to their own assigned seats.

         I was surprised to know that the bidding started at a thousand dollars. But I was glad to be reminded that the money, like the concert proceeds, would all go to charity.

         All too soon, Ryo’s turn came up. His final bid was at 35 thousand, and Bulk and Beatnik was at 25 thousand each. Penny’s was at 53 thousand, the highest amount so far, tying her to Mr. Hunky Dream Guy.

         When my name was called out, I forced my wobbling legs to walk, putting one step in front of the other. When I reached the stage, a nervous smile playing on my lips, I silently cursed all eyes which were fixed on me for forcing me to be involved in this against my will. I was also surprised to note that the auctioneer for this occasion was an unknown government officer, and that Dark himself was sitting in the front row. I saw his hand disappearing under his chair, and warning bells went off. I willed myself to be strong, and hoped I wouldn’t end up going out on a date with him instead.

         I tried to be true to myself, mentioning in my short speech that, as everybody should know by then, I had no recollection of the past and that my current favorite pastime was to seek out familiarity in my everyday life. It was corny but it was true, and I was surprised when the people seated in front of me applauded supportively.

         The traditional brass handheld bell clanged as the number on the LCD board increased. In the end, the auctioneer pronounced that the final bid was at an amazing 64 thousand dollars. That being said, I stepped off the stage dazedly and bumped into the eagerly-waiting Ryo.

          “Congratulations,” he cried, grabbing my hands and jumping up and down with joy. Behind him, Penny came up and smiled as she congratulated me She looked uncharacteristically happy that I was immediately suspicious of her. She only laughed when I told her this, and said I would find out why soon enough.

         When I reached home with Uncle C. driving the limousine – the others had taken their own cars – I was still in a daze. Even when the others patted me on the shoulder, congratulated and teased me, I still couldn’t believe that my forced blind date had cost some unlucky guy 64 thousand dollars.

         When I moodily stomped down the staircase for breakfast the next morning, having had a vivid nightmare the night before and woken on the wrong side of bed with an incessant throbbing headache, I found the others were curiously gathered around Ms. Sandy at the reception area. They cried excitedly when they saw me and Ms. Sandy quickly pressed a medium-sized package into my surprised hands.

          “Open it!” Penny ordered impatiently. Somebody handed me a pair of scissors and I used this to cut through the red ribbon that bound the white cardboard package. After tearing off the ribbons and some flimsy wrapper, I opened the lid of the box and peered inside.

          “It’s a –“ I began hesitantly.

          “A dress!” Penny finished my sentence. She snatched the blue-black gown from me and twirled it around, laughing as the dress’ unidentified material floated gracefully in the air.

          “There’s a card inside,” intoned Ari as he peered over my shoulder. Hearing this, Penny flung the dress back into the box I still held in my hands, and quickly snatched the note before anybody else could.

          “It’s from your date, Azure honey,” smirked Penny after reading it. I crept closer and saw that it was written on scented parchment. The handwriting seemed familiar somehow. “He wants you to wear this tonight. Oh, what a stupid, romantic fool!”

          “He also asked me to deliver this to you,” smiled Ms. Sandy, handing me a smaller velvet box. I kept it away from Penny and opened it, gasping at the platinum jewelry set in curlicues and accentuated with diamonds and aquamarine.

          “Look,” Penny cooed, her eyes wide. “A necklace, a bracelet and earrings!”

          “There’s also a matching embroidered evening bag and dark blue embroidered stilettos, too,” added Ms. Sandy as she passed them to me.

          “Hmm,” frowned Penny, then gave me a slap on the back. “He seems to be pretty fashionable. Heck, his sense of fashion is light years beyond your own, I’m afraid. I just hope, for your sake, though, that he’s not gay.”

          “Ah, but he sure must want you to look pretty tonight,” commented Qit with a slight smile.

          “Yeah,” I drawled sarcastically. “But he’d better not expect too much, though. By the way, who was he, Ms. Sandy? Do you know?”

         She smiled as she shook her head. “Sorry. I have no idea who he is. He had this sent by courier.”

         I walked everywhere that day in a daze, pondering over the identity of my date. Was he tall? Short? Lean? Fat? A gentleman? A lunatic? And perhaps, as Penny supposed, gay?

         When I went down to the dining room for tea time, hungry despite the heavy tomato rice lunch we had because I hadn’t much appetite then to eat, I was surprised to find that only Que was there. He wore a concentrated look as he held up a newspaper in his hands, leaning back comfortably against his chair and wagging his toes, which were resting atop the table, to a personal beat. I frowned at the plate of cookies near his feet and sighed.

          “How come the others aren’t here?” I greeted him, leaning against the table beside him and popping a walnut cookie into my mouth. Startled, he scrambled to sit upright, folding the newspaper hastily.

          “Hi, Azure,” he grinned sheepishly, scratching his head as I took the seat next to him. “I’m not sure where the others are. They’re probably not that hungry, I guess.”

          “So what’s in the papers today?” I queried, gesturing toward the badly creased newspaper.

          “Nothing much,” he replied. “The usual. Wars. Politics. Murder. Incest. That sort of thing.”

          “Really,” I said, reaching for another cookie. I wasn’t in the mood to read the news that day, so I wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about. Then, remembering the half-burnt picture of him in my room, I asked, “I’ve been meaning to ask: have you ever been a best man? You know, at a wedding?”

          “Huh?” He gave me a baffled look. “What do you mean? I’ve never been anybody’s best man.”

          “Sorry,” I apologized, a little embarrassed that my guess had been off the mark. “My mistake.”

         He stared at me gobbling down the cookies before tentatively asking me, “Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere this evening?”

          “On a date, you mean?” I asked between mouthfuls. He nodded and I swallowed. “Relax, the ball starts at eight.”

          “You’re gonna meet him at the ball?” he asked confusedly.

          “No, silly,” I told him. “He’s coming here to pick me up.”

         He kept looking at me, clearly expecting me to elaborate. When I didn’t he asked again. “What time is he picking you up?”

         I frowned, a little annoyed that Que was being bothersome and uncharacteristically nosy. Then, in an exasperated bid to quiet him, I reached for the card in my side pocket and read the note. “Seven o’clock, driveway.”

          “So?” Que asked meaningfully. I merely stared at him.

          “So what?” I asked back.

          “It’s six o’clock already,” he told me, pointing toward the cuckoo clock on the wall opposite. I gazed at the clock for a second before jumping onto my feet.

          “Yikes,” I yelped. “I haven’t even showered! I’m sorry, but I have to go.” With that, I left the bewildered Que and sped up toward my room. Instead of luxuriating myself in the bathtub, I took a short soak instead and got ready to change. But standing there in my terry robe, looking down at the gown I had laid atop my bed, I suddenly realized I didn’t even know where to start.

         Luckily Skye was still in her room when I intercommed her. She laughed when she heard the panic in my voice and quickly went to my room, carrying a professional makeup box and a hairstyler kit with her. She helped me with the dress, which was a little snug here and there but otherwise all right. She helped with the makeup and styled my hair, though she couldn’t be as creative as she wanted to as my hair was still short. She even lent me her new rose-scented perfume. Finally, she helped me with the jewelry and upon completion, asked me to view myself at the full-length mirror.

         So I did just that, peering at my profile from one angle to the next.

          “Do I look OK?” I asked worriedly.

          “You look like a dream,” Skye complimented, tilting her head back and laughing. “Don’t frown too much – we don’t want it to permanently scar your features.”

         I stared at her, disbelief on my face. She laughed some more and put both hands on my shoulders. I realized suddenly that we shared the same height.

          “Believe me,” she promised. “Men won’t look elsewhere except at you once you enter the room. And believe me, I know what I’m talking about. Now go out there and meet your man! I know you’re gonna make him very happy tonight.”

         There was an almost sad look in her eyes as she said this, and I surmised that her meaning went more than skin-deep. But before I could say anything, she made me put on my high heels and threw the evening purse for me to catch. Then, she whirled me around and pushed me out the door.

         I wasn’t very sure why, but my heart was beating painfully faster than normal as I slowly and self-consciously made my way down the stairs. At the bottom, I found Henri talking to Ms. Sandy.

          “My, my,” I greeted him. “You look very good in that suit.” It was true, his unbuttoned white blazer and shiny black-red waistcoat with the intricate design looked excellent on him.

          “Thanks,” he blushed, then seemed to fidget. Ms. Sandy excused herself, saying she had to attend to something upstairs. I took the opportunity to ask Henri what the matter was. “Nothing,” was all he said.

         I stared at him, taking in his new suit, new perfume, new shoes, new haircut even and the pathetic impatient air one had during an agonizingly long period of waiting. Cruel though it might sound, I decided to test a theory. So I winked and asked him, “You’re Penny’s date, aren’t you?”

         His startled hurt look was ample answer for me. I was suddenly aware of a tightening feeling in my chest, as if the truth had pained me somehow. “How did you know?” he asked, and my heart plummeted.

          “Just a lucky guess,” I replied, forcing myself to smile. Hey, wake up, Azure! Be happy for him! This is after all your bestest friend in the world! I took in his crumpled face and tentatively reached out to comfort him. “What’s the matter now, huh?”

          “Nothing,” replied Henri, and I suddenly realized how dejected he looked. “It’s just that she asked Ms. Sandy to deliver this to me.”

         He passed me a note and I read it. It seemed that Penny had other commitments and apologized profusely for not turning up.

          “I heard from Ms. Sandy,” said Henri through gritted teeth, “that during the auction, she had allegedly asked her uncle to bid for Jea Filippe a.k.a. Mr. Hunky Dream Guy. My guess is that she’d already left to meet up with him.”

         My heart went out to him. I took his hand and squeezed it. “What do you see in her anyway?”

         He sighed before answering, “An amazing woman with amazing beauty and amazing grace. Intelligent, competent, witty, fun to be with, always open and honest about what she thinks.”

          “Yeah, well,” I pondered over her constant bickering and biting remarks and decided that was another way of looking at her. “I thought you said her verbal diarrhea bothered you?”

          “Initially, it did,” he admitted. “But after a while, it grew on me. Now I find that I don’t mind it at all.” He then glanced at his watch and asked what time my date would pick me up.

          “Seven,” I told him.

          “Well, then, you’d better get going,” he told me. “It’s fifteen past already.” As I yelped and smacked my forehead, he moaned. “Azure, how come you seldom wear your watch?”

          “Because I’m too lazy to,” I said, turning to go. Then I stopped, looking back at him. “You OK? You are coming to the ball, aren’t you?”

          “Yeah, I suppose so,” he replied half-heartedly. “I’ll just go back to my room and lie down first. I might be a bit late, though. And Sandy had better not tell a soul.”

          “I’ll be expecting you at the ball then,” I told him, giving his hand a final squeeze and quickly went out to the porch outside.

         For some reason, Que was leaning against his car when I pushed open the front doors. He raised one eyebrow, giving me a quizzical look as I peered to the left and right.

          “Has he come and left?” I asked anxiously as he sauntered up to me, a huge grin spreading across his face. “M-my date, I mean?”

         He only smiled as he passed me the bouquet of flowers he was holding and took out a gold-plated brooch designed as a Melizian waterlily, the national flower. I stared dazedly at him as he quietly pinned the brooch on my dress.

          “You’re my date?” My jaw dropped when he happily nodded yes.

 

 

24) The Ball

 

         Afterward, everything seemed to pass by me like a blur. I felt as if I was immersed in water, barely hearing what people said to me, barely even realizing what was transpiring around me as the evening progressed.

         For some reason, I thought Que looked proud whenever he introduced me to the curious on-looking dignitaries. He hardly left my side, leaving only to get some drinks for me.

         After we arrived, I saw that Skye was slow dancing contentedly in Dark’s arms. She seemed glad to see Que and I, and didn’t seem at all surprised that the two of us came together.

         Penny was another matter altogether. As she danced close by with Jea Filippe, I saw the shocked look on her face at the sight of Que standing tall and smart with a constant hand on the small of my back. She accidentally stepped on Jea’s foot and looked as if she wanted to stop and talk to us, but Jea evidently didn’t feel the same and spurred her on.

         We also saw Qit standing alone near the punch table, raising a goblet up at us as we smiled at him from afar. Like Skye, he didn’t seem surprised at all, and I realized that Que must have had informed his brother about his plan earlier on. Ari danced by us in a little while, keeping in step with fumbling Joy, and though he seemed shocked to see me linking arms with Que, he bit his tongue and didn’t say a word.

          “Who’s your charming date, Que?” A balding white-haired high-ranking government officer thumped Que on the back, eyes twinkling. Que quickly introduced me to Rolan Lyes, who evidently already knew who I was. “You’re not dancing or eating? Everyone else is.”

         Que looked around the crowded room and shook his head. “Maybe later,” he promised. Then, when Lyes had left us, Que quickly looked around and determined that everybody else was engrossed in his or her own activities. He grabbed me by the arm and hastily made his way out the door with me, saying, “We’d better hurry before anyone misses us. I just can’t stand too many people gawking at us.”

         As we exited the building, I almost bumped into forlorn-looking Henri who had just arrived. He looked surprised to see us, but was not shocked. He only managed to ask as we rushed by, “Where are you two heading?”

          “Off for a quiet dinner,” replied Que, putting a finger up against his lips. “Don’t tell anyone, you hear?”

          “Never seen you the whole day,” agreed Henri, winking at me and giving me two thumbs up. “All the best.”

         Que then took me for a spin. He made small talk and stole glances at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. I kept quiet most of the time, and knew better than to ask him where he was taking me. After about half an hour, he stopped and parked in front of a classy-looking Dench restaurant. He opened the door for me and took my hand, then guided me in with one hand firmly placed upon my back.

         The restaurant was dimly lit and upon entering, we were greeted cordially and ushered toward a round candle-lit table near the end. As I arranged my dress and sat down on the chair Que had thoughtfully pulled out for me, I looked around the empty room.

          “There are no other customers except us,” I whispered.

         Que nodded, smiling. “That’s the way I like it.”

          “You booked the whole place?” I asked, stunned. He nodded, his lips fixed in a captivating smile.

         The live jazz band played their sweet music as we tucked into our dinner. I was famished, and finished my food clean. After I had dabbed the corners of my lips with my napkin, Que stood up and extended an arm out to me, asking me to dance. I looked up at his earnest smiling face, realized I didn’t have much choice anyway, then took the proffered hand.

         Que led me to the middle of the room as the band started playing a slow number. I tentatively took both of his hands in mine with the intention of keeping a safe distance away but he quickly shook one hand free and pulled me close in a tight embrace, knocking the breath out of me. I was surprised to note that my head fit the space under his chin snugly and with one hand resting on the small of my back, he used the other to run his fingers through my hair, the light pressure ensuring that I kept my head rested against him.

         I forgot how to dance as my head was filled with the scent of his intoxicating perfume. My feet moved along on its own accord, though we didn’t dance much, just swaying gently to the beat. I could hear his heart thumping loudly and wondered whether he could hear mine, too.

         He then gazed at me and finally murmured in my ear, “You have the most beautiful eyes.” He gave a small laugh at the disbelief shown on my face and added, “Did I tell you that you look enchanting tonight?”

         I shook my head in answer. When I stopped shaking, he brushed my lips tenderly with his index finger. I quickly turned my face away. “Please don’t,” I implored him.

          “Why not?” he sighed as he tightened his grip around my waist. Again, he peered into my eyes and I thought I saw within his a conflict of emotions. “The others warned me about this,” he confided in me, though his words didn’t make much sense to me then. “But they finally relented and granted me this one night to be with you.” To my further discomfort, he buried his face in my hair and inhaled my floral shampoo scent. “That’s what I thought I wanted. But now that I’m here with you, I realize that I want to be with you, not just tonight, but for all time.”

         I refused to acknowledge that my heart skipped a beat when I heard this, and instead I asked, “What about Lawles then?”

         He stopped dancing and held me at arm’s length. “What about her?”

          “I thought you both looked rather chummy last night at the auction,” I went straight to the point.

         He groaned inwardly. “Oh, that. She wanted to give me a cake she’d baked herself, but wasn’t sure I’d take it. When I did, she was extremely delighted.” Then he gave me a sly grin. “You’re not jealous, are you? I threw away the cake afterward, if you must know.”

          “Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” I scoffed. He took me in his arms and we started dancing again, both quiet. Finally he stopped and gripped my shoulders hard. I was surprised, then looked up to see him staring intently at me.

          “I can’t stand it any longer,” he told me, voice quivering. His words made me worry even more.

          “You’re scaring me, Que,” I told him as I shrugged his hands off me, turning to go. “I think we’d better leave.”

         But I stopped in my tracks when he hurried toward me and reached out from behind to hold me tight. “Please don’t go now,” he whispered throatily, nuzzling my ear and causing me to gulp nervously. “It’s all right. There’s nothing to be frightened of. I’m here with you.”

          “That’s what’s bothering me,” I told him frankly, trying to disengage myself but he stubbornly held on. “Look,” I finally told him, getting a little irritated. “It’s like this: I don’t like being made a fool of and I don’t like guys promising empty nothings just to score with me.”

          “Is that what you think?” he asked quietly, though his hands never left my side. “Am I the flashy guy you meant during counseling? Because I’m not, Azure. Believe me, I’m not like that at all.”

         I scoffed and tried to wriggle my way out of his grasp, but to no avail.

          “I need you, Azure,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

          “Stop saying that,” I yelled at him. “I bet you say that to every woman you meet.”

          “No, I don’t,” he said earnestly. “You know I don’t.”

          “How would I know?” I retorted. “I’m no mind-reader.”

         He sighed, tightening his grip still. “Trust me,” he said simply.

          “And why should I?” I felt like he was squeezing the breath out of me.

          “Please,” he implored. “Believe in me.”

          “Why the heck should I?” I sputtered.

         He only moaned and buried his face in my hair once more. “Because I’m your husband.”

         It took a whole minute for his words to actually sink in. When it happened, everything turned to a standstill. I automatically stopped doing anything: I stopped shaking uncontrollably, I stopped thinking clearly, heck, I even stopped breathing for a moment. After a while, I finally managed to find my voice, then asked quietly, “What did you just say?”

          “Here, I’ll prove it to you,” he declared, unaware that my rage was slowly building up within me. With one hand still encircling me, he took out his wallet and showed me his small plastic-laminated marriage certificate. I struck it out of his hands without even looking at it. My brain was screaming at me. Was all this true? If yes, how come I didn’t remember anything at all?

          “Don’t – lie – to – me,” I told him through gritted teeth, finally finding enough strength to push him away quite forcibly. I snatched my bag from the table and hurried out the door before Que could follow. Outside, I kicked off my stilettos and began running barefoot down the street, warm silent tears sliding down my face and blotching my makeup, causing many a passerby to stare at me. Pretty soon, a familiar black car drove up beside me and kept pace with every furious stride I took. Que’s dark-tinted window lowered and from the corners of my eyes I saw Que staring straight ahead at the road in front of him.

          “Get in,” he said quietly. I ignored him and prepared to walk even faster. “Get in,” he roared this time, making me jump. He braked, opened the door to show he was serious, grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the passenger door. “Get in,” he repeated firmly as he opened the door for me. I obediently sat down and Que slammed the door shut, and a new batch of tears which I had successfully prevented from falling did just that, in a cascade.

         He drove slowly, silently, as my shoulders heaved with sobs.

          “What did you intend to do?” he finally implored softly. “Walk all the way home?”

         Not being able to say much, I nodded my head tearfully. He suddenly swerved to the side and braked, then looked around at me. He awkwardly took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed my tears with it, saying soothingly, “There, there. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.” Then, when the tears came down all the more, he flung the hanky aside and took me in his arms, letting me drench his shoulder completely.

         When we reached home, for some reason I wasn’t surprised to find Skye waiting for me downstairs. She took in my swollen eyes, shot a quizzical look at Que who answered her with a stony gaze, wisely kept her mouth shut and took my limp hand from Que’s. She led me to my room, helped me change and tucked me in. She switched off the lights and prepared to go, but I called out to her.

          “What’s the matter?” she gently asked, sitting near the edge of my bed. “Do you feel you’re ready to talk?”

         I could only nod in answer. She sighed, taking both my hands in hers.

          “My poor, poor Azure,” she kissed my forehead tenderly. “He told you everything, didn’t he?”

         Again, I nodded, broken hearted. I had almost succeeded in persuading myself to believe that Que had been lying to me, but now Skye’s confession had dashed that flimsy belief against rocks. I could do nothing but croak, “So it’s true, then? And you all conspired against me? How could you? I trusted you!”

         She tentatively put an arm around me, then gave me a slight hug. I tried to resist at first but then gave in, already past caring anyway. “Please forgive us, Azure. I know what we did might seem abominable to you, but we really had our reasons.”

          “What reason could be good enough to make you so cruel to me?” I seethed, and buried my face into the pillow so I didn’t have to look at her.

          “A lot of reasons,” Skye ambled on. “Medical reasons, confidentiality clause…”

         I looked up suspiciously. “What medical reasons? Was it because I looked so different from the way I was before? Because I act differently now? Do you think I’m not Azure the Newcomer?”

         She stared at me before answering, “If you must know, then the answer is yes.” I groaned and sank back onto the pillow, shutting my eyes, willing my ears to be deaf to her words. “Your situation is rather complicated, you see,” she began with some difficulty. “First, there’s the question of your hand. It’s different. Second is the fact that you don’t have your dark tattoo anymore. Thirdly, the chip implanted in you is missing, though frankly that makes sense since you have lost your hand. Fourthly is the fact that you and I look almost identical, so there’s also the possibility we had other twins out there we don’t know about and you could be one of them. And finally, you had been missing for so long, so long in fact that we had almost given up hope of ever finding you again.”

          “What do you mean?” I cried out at her. “All these are weak, they’re not strong enough to prove I’m not Azure! I’d still be Azure even after I’ve lost my hand, my mark, my chip, right? What about fingerprints? Dental records, even? How about moles or birthmarks on me?”

         She wore an intense look as she peered into my eyes. “You didn’t have a birthmark on you, and in fact, there was supposed to be a distinctive mole on your cheek – it’s not there now. Yes, I know you could have had it removed when you went missing, but still, it made us doubt. And your records? They’ve all been burned, Azure. There aren’t any official records of you. That’s why we couldn’t positively identify you.”

          “What?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Whatever are you talking about?”

          “We believe,” explained Skye patiently, “that somebody planned to finish you off, and they were the ones who abducted you. For some reason, you got away from your captors before they did anything drastic, but not before they had burned the hospital and part of the Ministry of Defense building where we kept your personal records as if in a desperate bid to wipe out evidence of your existence.”

          “They burned the hospital?” I didn’t know. “And the MoD, too?”

         Skye nodded. “The hospital you stayed in was the new one.”

          “But why would anyone want to kill me?” I began to wonder, then frowned.

          “Being Fighters, we’re not exactly well-liked by everyone,” Skye gave a wry smile. “We’ve made many enemies, and some of them see us enough of a threat to cause us mortal harm.

          “Before you went missing, you were sent on a covert mission. Even I don’t know what it is you were supposed to do then. All I know now is that the mission allowed you access to highly confidential information, information which we believe now to be valuable enough to make stealing it from you highly profitable, to say the least.

          “We weren’t sure whether you remembered the mission, and personally I am glad you never brought it up, to me or to anyone else, indicating that you have no recollection of it at all. That’s very good, you see, because you were labeled a top priority risk. I fear to imagine what fate should befall you should you even breathe one word of it to anyone.”

         I laughed bitterly, thinking it was a joke. But when she stared at me in that curious way, I stopped, realizing that she was deadly serious.

          “We knew it was a mistake to let Que be too close to you,” she then sighed, while I dejectedly stared up at the ceiling, lost in thought. “By being close to you, there was the risk that you might remember, and once you remembered, it’d be a matter of time before you told somebody about it, and then that’d put you in jeopardy. But warning him and keeping watch over him, in case he attempted anything foolish, was pointless. He’s so darned obstinate at times, he just couldn’t stay away from you.”

         I lay quietly, still staring wretchedly at the ceiling, wishing that I could just die there and then and escape the numbing iciness I felt constricting my heart. Skye tried to approach me but I told her curtly, “Get out.” She stared at me for a while, then silently walked out, shutting the door behind her with a click.

 

 

25) The Police

 

         That night, anger, hurt, frustration, disbelief and shock were only some of the feelings that went through me. I felt like a complete fool, I wasn’t only devastated, I felt humiliated as well. I felt I was so stupid not to have caught on earlier. I knew Que was attracted to me but it never really crossed my mind that we had something very serious between us.

         Lucky to have my own private room, I allowed myself to cry my heart out without danger of somebody seeing me. Each time I thought I had dried up my well of tears, that I couldn’t possibly have enough moisture left in my body to brew a new batch, I remembered what happened that night and fresh tears came down in a torrent.

         I thought I would never succumb to sleep, but then, when dawn was threatening the night sky, and feeling emotionally drained and exhausted, my eyelids drooped and sleep finally caught up with me. I had a funny dream then, though funnily enough it had nothing to do with Que’s revelation. And like before, I felt I had a strong sense of identity. In the dream I did not talk, communicating instead telepathically.

         I found myself in a spacious oval-shaped office. It wasn’t well lighted, and I saw the profile of an old man sitting with his back toward me. He was seated behind the desk near the wide windowpanes on the far side of the room. Power and status seemed to emanate from him and the whole room seemed to pulsate with the strength of his aura.

         I walked up to him stealthily but he obviously knew I was there because he swung around on his high-backed chair when I approached his wide rectangular mahogany desk.

          “Newcomer,” he smiled broadly up at me. “It’s been a long time, but I’ve been expecting you. What can I possibly do for you today?”

         In my dream I knew who he was, and told him the reason why I had sought him out. He only cackled and sneered at this.

          “You can’t come barging in with mere accusations,” he had laughed aloud. “In today’s world, one needs concrete proof if one’s aim is to win in the court room.”

         I had scoffed at this, pointing out that nobody was aware I was in the room with him and hinted that I could do him bodily harm without anyone suspecting me. This quickly quietened him, though the mocking grin he had never left his creased face.

          “You’re here to seek the truth, aren’t you?” he had jeered. “Alright, you don’t have to break my arm in the process. Which part of the truth do you want to hear?”

         The true version, I had intoned. He had sighed and made a steeple with his hands.

          “Alright, but which part?”

         Everything, from the beginning.

         He sighed again and rested his elbows on his desk surface. “OK, I’ll admit it. We made a mistake when we first started the Fighter program. Dr. Marcox was supposed to head the whole lot of you, and he was never to leave you alone unsupervised.

          “But when Qit pushed him off the ledge – yes, of course we’re sure of our facts – we hired Ms. Sandy as a sort of replacement. But the person who hired her neglected to mention how young she was, hardly capable of managing a group of rowdy teenagers with an iron rod, which was what we had originally wanted, but by then the committee had already decided and we couldn’t retract our decision.

          “Besides, by then the harm had already been done. We handpicked each and every one of you. Your general good looks were more effective than the most aggressive promotion campaign, and we managed to secure your popularity and the masses loved you and supported the Fighter Group Program wholeheartedly. We succeeded in capturing the world’s interest, too, and this has been a great boost for the committee in the political circle. You pupils made excellent students, and our investment in your education and training was well worth it. You far surpassed our initial expectations, and we’re more than pleased to find you loyal Melizian robots capable, efficient and resilient.

          “We felt it was important to house all of you together to instill a deep sense of familial camaraderie which should result in excellent teamwork. But in our zeal to create Melize’s perfect fighting team, we overlooked one thing: the fact that you were after all still children, and in dire need of guidance, security and shelter that only adults could offer. And what resulted from that was the greatest mistake of all times.

          “I’m sure you understand what I’m talking about. Your cheeks are red – is it possible that you still think about it even today? Whatever the case may be, you have paid, and quite dearly, too, I must say. Well, we tried our best to conceal the facts from the public but of course the media somehow got wind of it somehow and in the end we were cornered into admitting. I was very glad when the mess was finally cleared up, though the whole program’s perspective has shifted greatly afterward.

          “What’s that? You want to talk about more recent times? Yes, well, since you are so insistent to get me to admit – yes, we abducted you from your home and brought you to Mugamba, but then somebody interfered, and we lost you. Happy now to know the truth?”

         What happened? I had asked and he shrugged.

          “All I know is that my men were attacked and that the attackers took you after the scuffle.”

         Their identity?

         He shook his head. “Unsure. But we believe they were the ones responsible for destroying your bionic hand. Had they not done that, we would have zoomed in on the homing device planted there and finished you off before the Fighters could come to your rescue.”

         So the attackers had been my rescuers, and made it possible for me to live and dream that night. Do you realize I can implicate your granddaughter?

         He merely laughed amusedly. “Only if you gather enough proof. Do you think she’s stupid enough to let herself be caught?”

         I can make her life a living hell, I told him simply. He seemed to contemplate this and decided I was serious.

          “Only if you succeed,” he finally said, his beady small eyes challenging mine. I considered this then turned to go, but he stopped me. Evidently he wasn’t through with me yet. “You know you’ve been very lucky so far,” he told me in a threatening way. “But a lucky streak will end sooner or later. And when it does, be sure that she will be ready for you. She will not waste the opportunity to attack you in your moment of weakness.”

         Only if I give her that chance, I had smirked at him.

         He met my penetrating stare and cautioned me, “Don’t be too confident. The outcome is still undetermined as of yet. You won’t always win, Azure Blue. She will strike the very moment you lower your guard.”

         I laughed and shrugged it off. I whirled around then proceeded to walk toward the door and paused when he gave me his final advice. It never crossed my mind then that his words were prophetic.

          “If I were you, I’d try to find out what had actually transpired in the past,” he said slyly. “Your memory during your waking hours isn’t what it used to be, isn’t it? My advice is for you to carefully sieve the information you receive. Decide wisely, and separate truth from fiction. You’re bound to discover some interesting facts sooner or later.”

         His cackling was the last I remembered. I woke up to a bed drenched with sweat and squinted as the morning light streamed in through the windows.

         I felt pretty lethargic that day and chose to stay in bed all day. But then I realized if I kept this up, I’d be too used to it, so I didn’t bother asking Eva to bring food up to me as I seemed to have lost all appetite anyway. But Skye crept up to my room, bearing breakfast on a tray, ignored the silent treatment I gave her as if nothing had happened and forced me to eat at least a few spoonfuls.

         I thought if anybody wanted to bring my lunch up it’d be her, too, so I was surprised when there was a tentative knock on the door, then Henri came in with my tray of steaming chicken rice. I at first refused to look at him, feeling angry and disappointed at him joining the others in the conspiracy against me.

          “How’re you feeling?” he asked. I turned my back sullenly on him and tried to ignore him, but found I couldn’t ignore the rice. I inhaled the fragrance and my stomach suddenly growled. My appetite returned with a force. I put my pride aside and began gobbling up the food. I felt much better then when I had more energy. “We’re all so worried about you.”

          “So everybody knows, huh?” I smiled dejectedly.

          “Yeah,” shrugged Henri, then turned sincere doleful eyes on me. “We’re really sorry about keeping it a secret from you. Most of us didn’t want to actually, but Skye convinced us that you weren’t ready to face the whole truth, at least not just yet. I did try to tell you on several occasions, but each time I wanted to I would hear in my head Skye telling me not to, for your own sake.”

          “It’s OK,” I said resignedly now that I was in a calmer state of mind. “I understand.”

         He hesitated before plunging in with the next question, “So? Has Que come in to see you?”

         I answered dispiritedly, “No, not after last night. Besides, I don’t think I’m ready to see his face yet. Why?”

          “Nothing,” he said. After a pause, he continued, “If you must know, it’s actually a good thing you didn’t come down this morning. There was a battle royale during breakfast.”

          “Really?” I asked interestedly. “What about?”

          “About Que unable to put a lid on it, that’s what,” he replied. “It was Que versus the world, the leader of the pack being Skye, of course.”

          “What did they say?”

          “They were all arguing and pointing fingers and blaming each other. Skye even said some nasty things to Que, who stormed out of the house.”

          “Really? Skye did that? I thought almost nothing could ruffle her feathers.”

          “Yeah, well, she did. Guess she feels strongly about this, too.”

          “How’s Penny, by the way?”

         Henri groaned. “Let’s not talk about her now. We were focusing on you, remember?”

          “I just want to know whether she knows her bidder was you,” I explained. “Have you told her?”

         Henri sighed. “No, she has no clue. And I prefer it to be this way. For now.”

          “Scaredy cat,” I sneered and laughed. I couldn’t possibly be angry with this best friend of mine for long, especially after his sincere and profuse apologies, even though he did let me down initially. He pretended to be furious with me and grabbed a pillow. He threatened to hit me with it, so I threw up my hands defensively. “OK, OK, that’s enough. I know, I won’t mention her name.” But when he lowered the pillow down, I muttered under my breath, “Chicken.” He flashed angry eyes at me and I began to apologize amid gales of laughter, feeling way lighter and better than when I had woken up that morning.

          “I hope you don’t mind me saying this,” he said as he sat down at the edge of the bed. “But you’re my best pal, and it really worries me to see you like this. Let’s get a breath of fresh air, shall we?”

          “No, thanks,” I said. “Maybe later, but not now.”

         He shrugged. “It’s your choice.”

          “I just wished I’d known about Que being my … my … you know what,” I confided in him, resolutely refusing to give in to another crying session. “When he told me, I felt like such a fool. I was so heartbroken, I really didn't know. I felt like you guys had killed me. I knew you weren’t supposed to tell me, but damn it, I should have read the signs! I merely thought he liked me; I just never imagined it was more complicated than that.”

          “You know,” said Henri gently. “Now that you mention it, there were a lot of signs. How could you have possibly missed it? The wedding ring he still wears everywhere he goes, the way he dressed – always in your favorite colors, the way he would pour onto himself your favorite brands of perfume, the way he paid extra attention to you … ”

          “Enough, enough,” I told him, feeling a migraine coming. “I get the picture. Guess I’m still a bit slow, huh?”

          “I never said that,” said Henri sympathetically. “Remember, those were your words, not mine. But it did surprise me you never realized it; it was so evident he was going all out to get you back into his life.”

          “Sorry my brain caught up too late,” I said sarcastically.

         We were silent for a while, then Henri opened his mouth and said awkwardly, “I can only imagine how angry you feel toward him now, Azure, but Que really – “

          “Stop it!” I cut in. “I’m tired and I don’t wanna think about it anymore. OK?”

          “OK. But what are you gonna do now?” Henri asked concernedly.

         I heaved a long sigh. “I don’t know. In some strange bizarre way I think I can understand where he’s coming from. Besides, what choice do I have anyway? I guess it wouldn’t be right for me to avoid him all my life.”

          “You mean, you’re gonna go back to him?” There was something in his voice that made me worry.

          “Not now, I somehow feel uneasy about it,” I admitted. “Whenever he’s around, I always feel uncomfortable, feel as if I had to get away from him. Funny, huh? But eventually, I think I will go back. Why?”

         He opened his mouth to speak, had second thoughts, then shut his mouth again.

          “Go on,” I throttled him. “Spit it out. What is it?”

          “It’s just that,” he coughed, “it’s just that it’s way more complex than you think.”

          “What?” I asked, piqued. “Is it about me going back to him? Or what? Is there some other secret you’re not telling me? Like, is he my long-lost brother? No? Was he gonna divorce me? No? Did he find someone else when I was gone? Well, spit it out, then! I’m tired of playing this stupid game!”

          “I just want to give you a piece of advice,” he finally murmured. “As your friend, I’d like you to dig up your past, Azure. But I’m afraid it’d have to be on your own; I can’t help you there. It’s very important for you to realize what happened. I can’t say much on this matter; Skye has put me under oath, and I wouldn’t want to endanger you unnecessarily. You know her orders were to do you away should you remember about your last mission and tell others about it, right?”

          “Yeah, I know,” I frowned. “And if you must know, I had a funny dream last night, where this old man was telling me the exact same thing.” I proceeded to tell him what I remembered, and he listened intently without saying a word. “But I find it hard to believe Skye would ever find it in her heart to kill me. Why did the government give such barbaric directions to her anyway? This isn’t the middle ages.”

          “It wasn’t the government,” replied Henri earnestly. “We have reasons to believe the order came straight from the Inner Circle. You know, of the Global Committee.”

          “Really?” I asked surprisedly. “I didn’t realize we communicate with them. Especially Skye, since she resigned her Bearer office.”

          “We don’t usually,” replied Henri. “Well, at least not directly. But I think you should know, nobody could be sure what goes on in Skye’s mind. It’s like a bottomless chasm. I know she’s mightily fond of you now, but I’d watch out if I were you. You know Skye, she’s so unfathomable it’s difficult to predict her move. Besides, she does have a motive against you – Dark.”

          “Oh yeah,” I said, my forehead creased. “Was he always so problematic, Henri?”

          “Well,” replied Henri, pondering. “I wasn’t there when both of you first met him, but I remember being told he was very much attached to Skye back then. There were rumors about you liking him, too, but when you realized they were both very much in love, you backed off.

          “But that was before things changed. You became a Bearer and Dark, who’s a descendant of the blood-drinking Verie creature of folklore, is naturally attracted to the dark side of you. But by then, you were completely over him and totally ignored him. I guess it could’ve been revenge that compelled him to take Skye in as his wife. I mean, if you can’t get a girl, why not settle for someone who resembles her, at least?”

          “No,” I said, astounded. “That’s gross! I can’t believe he’d ever stoop that low to do that to Skye. I mean, can’t he see how wonderful she is? At the concert, couldn’t he see how people adored her? Why would he want some other girl? Is he blind? Doesn’t he realize how lucky he is? Besides, she seems intelligent enough. Can’t she figure out she shouldn’t marry a man who didn’t love her?”

          “Ah, but then she didn’t realize it. And anyway, nobody can grasp the human mind completely,” said Henri mysteriously.

          “You know,” I suddenly smiled at him tenderly. “I’m really glad that you came, that we had this chat. I know I was mightily mad at you, I was so disappointed in you, but not anymore. You always know how to make me feel better, you know.”

          “Yeah, well,” said Henri pessimistically. “That’s what best friends are for.”

          “I can’t believe Penny can’t see what a great guy you are.”

          “Well,” said Henri thoughtfully, “Penny always thinks of me as merely your best pal; I don’t think she’ll ever notice me individually, not when there are better-looking guys out there.”

          “Stop saying that,” I chided him. “Like you said before, Penny isn’t stupid. I’m sure she’ll come to realize that good looks aren’t everything. Well, if not now, maybe later.”

          “Hey, you’re finished eating?” Henri asked, standing up abruptly, pointing toward the chicken bones on my plate, forcing an end to the conversation. I nodded and he put the plate on the tray. “Good. I want you to eat more, you hear me? Are you coming down for tea later on? No? Well, I’ll come again then and we can both go down for dinner together, OK?”

         I had no other alternative so I nodded my head. He said goodbye and left with the tray in his hands.

         Henri came knocking on the door at dinnertime and I stuck my head out, asking him whether Que was around. He shook his head and told me he hadn’t seen Que since breakfast. So I went down cautiously and sure enough, no Que was present. He didn’t even return for dinner and the seat beside me was empty for the entire course. The others were uncharacteristically quiet and subdued, giving me the occasional curious glance, and for a change I was glad nobody said anything to me. After dinner, I couldn’t wait to return to my room and escape the oppressing atmosphere, so I was the first to throw my napkin down upon the table and excuse myself.

         But just as I approached the reception area, Que himself came in through the front doors. I stiffened as our eyes met, then I coldly turned around and hurried toward the staircase without saying a word, though not before I saw him open his mouth as if to call out to me.

         Ms. Sandy, who was on the phone when Que came in, promptly put the phone down and said, “Que, thank God you’re here. The guards at the grounds’ main entrance just alerted me that somebody wants to see you.” She paused then added, “It’s the police.”

         That made me stop short. I looked back and saw Que telling Ms. Sandy that he’d be waiting for them in the lounge, then he cast his hurt eyes on me and walked off while Ms. Sandy went to the front doors to wait for the police and usher them in.

 
 

26) The Red Car

 

         Although I wasn’t comfortable being around Que after last night, I was still curious to find out what the police wanted. Did my husband do something wrong? If not, why else would they be here? Henri then came looking for me, found me standing still at the staircase and pulled my hand, saying that we should all go the lounge and listen to whatever it was the police had to say.

         So I let Henri drag me to the lounge area, where all the others were already assembled. Que was sitting on the cowhide sofa, talking to Qit. He looked up when I entered the room, refused to acknowledge me when he saw me turn to look elsewhere and resumed his conversation with his brother. Henri went and sat on a blue velvet armchair and I sat perched on its armrest.

         Pretty soon, two policemen walked in. Skye introduced them to everybody and they shook hands with all of us. As they took a seat, Eva came in with tea and cookies for everyone, Que asked them what the matter was.

          “It’s nothing much,” said the first officer. “It’s just that we’ve finally succeeded in busting a syndicate of international car thieves.”

          “Congratulations,” said Que.

          “Thank you,” replied the officer, looking a little flustered. “But that’s not it. The reason we’ve come to see you is actually this.” He passed a brown envelope to Que, who opened it and pulled out a few snapshots. I saw that as Que began inspecting the pictures, his face turned deathly pale and his hands shook. Qit asked to see them and Que, albeit some reluctance, passed the photographs over to him.

         Meanwhile, the policeman was talking away. “They’ve changed the plate number but we were able to track down its owner through the chassis number. It’s a metallic crimson 600A Spitfire Pereli coupe, with 12 cylinders and a capacity of 6000 cc. We believe the car to be registered under your name and would like to seek your verification in this matter. Here, the details are all here in this report.” He passed Que another envelope and I saw Que slowly tear it, took out the report and stared at it.

          “Let me see that,” I hissed at Skye who was looking at the pictures with a shocked expression on her face. But strangely enough, Skye was highly reluctant to hand them over. So in the end I simply tore them off her hands, and the others’ alarmed cries confirmed my suspicion that something was wrong.

         I stared dumbfounded at the photographs and my heart sank when I realized what it was the others didn’t want to let on. Furious, I marched up to Que who finally looked up at me and flung the pictures down at him. “This was mine, wasn’t it? This was the one you gave to Pereli? The one that got stolen? What’s wrong with you?”

         Qit tried to restrain me but I pushed him aside. Unable to control my hurt, I ran out of the room and tore down the corridor, going out of the mansion through the front doors. There, screaming in pain and rage, I kicked at the brick wall outside and banged them with my fists, again and again till I felt exhausted but more in control of my emotions. Then I stood there leaning against the wall, panting.

         Pretty soon the door beside me creaked open. I turned my head to look, expecting to see Henri’s calming face peer out, but instead Que himself appeared. I folded my arms defensively, my eyes flashing, as he caught sight of me and walked up to me. I pursed my lips and lowered my gaze, focusing on the marble beneath my feet. He sighed and joined me, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, staring down at his big feet as well.

         We spent some time doing nothing, saying nothing. A few moments passed and then Que opened his mouth to speak.

          “The police are still inside,” he began, then paused as if he didn’t know what else to say.

         I snorted. He in turn pawed his feet on the ground nervously.

          “Look,” he finally said. “I’m deeply sorry if I’ve made you angry. But it’s all in the past now; can’t we just forgive and forget? There’s no use crying over spilt milk.”

          “I just hate it when you all act so secretive,” I exploded. “Why couldn’t you tell me about the car when Pereli came? Why couldn’t you be straight with me?”

         He gazed at me with a strained expression on his face. “Because I was afraid of what your reaction might be when you found out.”

          “So now that I’ve found out anyway,” I glared at him, “how’s my reaction? Happy with it?”

         He looked at me and said quietly, “I’m really, really sorry for everything. I’m sorry I messed things up, I’m sorry I kept things from you, I’m sorry I gave your car away – I was so, so angry at you then.”

          “You should have told me when Pereli came,” I seethed. “I asked you, but you didn’t even attempt to answer me. Pereli told me, but I was too dense to understand what he meant."

          “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmured, sadness and weariness written all over his face. “Can I ever make it up to you somehow?”

          “In your dreams,” I shot back. I tried to leave but he grabbed my arm. Having no patience for this kind of thing, I simply kicked him in the shin and when he let go, I marched back into the building.

         I went up to my room, slammed and locked the door then angrily flung myself face down on the bed. Not long afterward, after I’ve cooled down somewhat, the intercom crackled and I heard Henri’s welcomed voice.

          “Madame,” he was saying. “If it’s OK with you, could I come in and see you?”

         I thought it over. “Alright,” I finally softened. “I really needed to talk to you anyway. It’s good that you called. But why couldn’t you just knock?”

          “I thought it’d be wiser if I made an appointment with you first,” he replied before signing off. I went to unlock the door and pretty soon, Henri knocked and entered. We went to sit on the two-seater.

          “The police?” I inquired.

          “Oh, they’ve already left,” he told me simply. “Que’s gonna have to go to the station and do some verification and may probably attend the court proceedings, but that’d be later on.”

          “I see,” I remarked, fist under my chin, elbow resting on one knee.

          “He went to talk to you?” he asked hesitantly, one arm resting on the headrest behind my head.

          “He did,” I acknowledged.

          “He really cares about you, you know,” he said gently. “A little extreme at times, I must admit, but otherwise he’s pretty much devoted to you.”

          “Stop saying good things about him,” I brooded. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

          “Both sides, actually,” he answered simply. “By the way, what do you want me to say to Que if he asks? Can I tell him everything you’ve told me?”

          “Sure,” I relented. “By all means. I don’t care. It’s not me who wants to keep secrets anyway.”

         I then sighed and put both fists under my chin as he stared at me thoughtfully.

          “What happened, Hen?” I murmured, painful sadness suddenly enveloping me. “What could possibly have made him hate me so that he had to get rid of the car just to spite me?”

          “OK, I’ll tell you everything I know from the start,” began Henri slowly. “First of all, no matter how angry you were with each other, he never hated you, not for one bit. Your marriage had been pretty, uh, rocky, as both of you are equally stone-headed and neither would be willing to give in first. It was after a quarrel, and after you went missing, that Pereli came looking for you, asking for money. If you must know, I think Que suspects Pereli had been an old flame of yours because you used to lavish all sorts of things on him for some reason which Que can’t figure out. He’d always been jealous of Pereli and after you went missing, he gave away your car, which was actually a present from him anyway. I guess he either didn’t want to be reminded of you then or just wanted to get back at you.”

          “Or both.” I stared at him, not knowing whether to believe his story or not, but realizing in the end that my best friend would never have lied to me. He might have kept certain things from me, but deep in my heart I knew the Bearer of Light would never ever lie. Then, remembering something, I slowly got up and went to the boxes I had taken from the storage room. Henri followed me, and I silently showed him my jewelry and photographs.

          “Yep, those were your wedding jewelry,” he admitted readily, fingering a simple platinum ring. “See how this matches with the one Que always has on? And that red Pereli is the one Que gave to Pereli.” I showed him the burnt picture, and again he confirmed my suspicion. “I wasn’t there myself but you’ve shown me this before. Yes, it’s a picture of your wedding, probably the only one left since you’ve burnt all the others. No, Que wasn’t the best man, he was the groom. The man dressed in white with his back toward us was Qit, and he was best man, not the groom, mind you. That person in the background? No, that’s not Skye. Can’t you see? It was you.”

          “When was this?” I asked, slumping, my heart constricting with pain.

          “When you were seventeen,” he said, and a lot of possibilities crossed my mind, but I pushed them away and chose not to delve in them.

          “Look,” I finally whispered after a moment of silence. “I’d like to be alone for a while. Hope you don’t mind.”

          “Sure,” he said, getting up to go. “I understand.” He grasped my hands and gave them a comforting squeeze before he left. “Just don’t worry too much, you hear? Things will turn out for the better, you’ll see.”

         I changed then went back and stared sadly at the photographs for a while. What happened? Was my life really a sad farce? Was that why I had lost my memory? Because it had been a convenient way to erase memories of the past that I didn’t want to remember? Could that be it?

         I lay there on the floor, stretched out like a rag doll and felt like one, too. It seemed like I had lost all my dignity and self-respect. I chided myself for being so dim, and kept being angry at myself for not catching on to the others much earlier.

         I felt my head start to throb and felt that I needed to breathe fresh air. So I opened the sliding door and walked out to the ba