Running Into Figure Six

I laid on my bed that night, rolling from side to side, uncertain about how to free myself from my reality. If Dad were alive, I’d have gone to him for help. He always knew what to do, unlike me who always needed people to help me out of a predicament.

My past caught up with me every damn time, and I was never ready for once. You see that thing they say about karma catching up with someone, i’ve never actually believed it. I always thought it’s a sheer bunch of fiddle-faddle.

Until I saw Enid Heather who ruined my life three years ago, getting her life ruined too, or at least her body.

The only person I could actually talk to in that situation was Jessie, but the poor young woman was busy preparing for her marriage and the grand opening of her confectionery.

I was always the one with problems- relationship problems, panic attacks, mom-and-daughter issues, assaulting mess and so on. She never once had those issues, or so it seemed, and even if she never made me feel like a burden, I think I kind of was.

If I had her type of mother, maybe I wouldn’t disturb her so much, but my own mother would nag you about the most footling stuff, question your every move, and remind you about your every dirty past, in the most unsettling way, while still playing the victim.

“Ugh, goddammit ”

I kept rolling on the bed, fiddling with my phone and getting agitated about whether to dial Jessie’s number or not.

I was sensing chills down my spine, and my forehead was starting to sweat. Jessie and i had already talked that day for about an hour before I left for work, but now I needed her again. Maybe my bed was not cut out for stress, or I was just too overwhelmed to relax my mind, either ways, I believed that if I was in Rooney’s bed like the other day, I’d probably be asleep already.

I got up and sat before my dresser, ignoring the company of my rumbling tummy and my clock’s ticking.

My reflection stared back at me in the mirror and all I wanted to do was yank her out of there and tear her into pieces. I saw it in my eyes, all the time. My green eyes carried all the weight of my yesterday, and oddly, I felt like I had to gouge out those eyes in order to delete the bad memories.

I laid my head on the dresser and let the tears out. I wish I could turn back the hands of the clock- some things would definitely have happened differently if i had a second chance. But I would never get one. So I had to deal with it.

I think I was there in that position for three hours and a half because when my alarm rang for 10pm bedtime, and my phone beeped a million times, I still laid there, unmoving. I felt too ashamed to face the world, even though i was alone and the world was literally minding their business right then.

A soft knock on the door pulled me back into real life, but i did not raise my head because, the mirror was the last thing I wanted to see at that moment.

It was Rooney, and I was too exhausted from crying and starving to push him away. He just pulled my couch closer to the dresser and laid his head on the table like i was doing.

I did not see him but, I felt and heard his every move. He was eerily quiet and that made me comfortable, because noise, and the mirror were the last things i needed then. He did not utter a word but I heard him take my phone briefly, perhaps looking for a hint. My eyes darted around his features that were visible from my posture- his legs. I looked closely and saw that he had six toes on his right feet. Six toes. I shut my eyes and opened them, counting again. Yes, they were six.

My pajama bottoms was drenched in my tears, and he saw it. I kind of liked how he just gave me some peace and company in silence.

We were there like that, me feeling his hot breath on a side of my ear, and he sheerly studying my vulnerable self, for thirty good minutes. Thirty minutes of unspoken words. Just silence and calm.

Around 10:30pm if I’m not mistaken, he reached for my shoulder and made me lift my head. I had never been so exhausted in my life- I could not even talk because my throat was dry. I had not had a drink or a meal in hours.

Rooney covered my face with one of his hands before he pulled me into a somewhat close-knit hug.

And I just remained there, breathing in his heavenly smell and listening to his heartbeat synchronizing with the tremors in my chest and stomach. I counted the lines on his abs with the movement of my head. He was toned with all the six packs and sturdy chest, and thinking about that when my world was falling apart, was a good distraction for me.

He patted my back many times too. I didn’t know who disengaged first, but we both were apart again a few minutes after.

“I know it’s late, but, will you come join me in my portico for supper?” He asked with a small smile plastered on his lips.

Then he left without waiting for my answer. There were so many questions in his eyes that definitely required a good meal to begin asking.

I hurriedly ran under the shower, and technically scrubbed my skin for a few minutes, then I ran across my living room in the buff.

Still in the buff, I returned to my room to rub myself. It was like I was preparing for a date. It was not Rooney’s first time of asking me to a meal, but this time, it felt like it was a proper, real date, and as soon as I slipped in a simple evening dress, i could feel tension taking over my excitement in the air.

I really must be going crazy. Or perhaps I already was, the day i packed my bags and left California.

I didn’t believe in voodoo but now I started to believe it, because even though I knew this guy had the tendency of hurting me, I still walked out of my house and towards his.

“Thank you” i said, as I sat across from him. He was too silent and it now made me a little uncomfortable.

“You know why i covered your face the other time?” He said, boring his turquoise eyes into my green.

I nodded, even though I wasn’t so sure.

“You knew I came in, but you clearly did not want anyone seeing you in that state.

So i thought of how to assure you that I was not there to stare at you in that state, but to comfort you. That’s why I covered your face” he explained and I tried to stop myself from blushing. Enid Heather’s assault scene was now in a forgotten room in the building in my head.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

“Thank you” i said again.

“Eat” he pleaded. And then with the most humorous move, he clank his cutleries on the plate and shoved it in the cheeseburger. I had to stifle a laugh but he saw it.

“Laughter looks good on you, Clarissa. You need to show your perfect teeth more often”

His meals were therapeutic, delicious and mouthwatering. Okay they mean the same thing, but is there any other word more sumptuous than ‘mouthwatering’?

Give it to Rooney Wayne’s cuisine, puh-leeze.

“Are you a chef or something? You cook so well” God knows I i did not compliment him that night, I’d drown myself to sleep with a deeper guilt.

Damn, his cuisine was so perfect that I got green with envy each time

“Oh my goodness ” he laughed and i wondered if I had said something stupid.

“What?”

“I’ve been waiting for this. You never said it was nice, so I thought I had turned bad at it”. He said, taking off his sweatshirt and handing it to me. It came as a surprise to me, so I just stared at him in disbelief.

“I don’t know.. you look like you are cold” he said matter-of-factly. “And you don’t look like you have any sweatshirts” It was literally a bit chilly. So I took it and slipped it on. “That’s very sensitive of you ” I mouthed a small smile and looked away quickly because his eyes were everywhere on my body. Or it always seemed so.

And yeah, he was right. I had no sweatshirts.

“So I was saying that you never complimented my cooking until now” he said carefully, still assessing me.

“Oh it’s just too good I forget to pass a comment, sorry” i had to laugh too. “So, are you a chef?”

“Yes, thank you. I like to think I am” he blushed

“Are you , or are you not? Don’t play with me” I mumbled. My phone was back in my room so I would never know about my texts until much later.

“I am a chef, Clarissa, and you?”

“I don’t know… I’m a woman who’s awfully attached to her dad” I said, in between mouthfuls. He did not care that i was disobeying table etiquettes. I think I was giddy from the lovely smell on his sweats.

“I guess he must be so lucky to have such a lovely woman as a daughter” he said.

“Well, he died. So…”

He dropped his cutlery and his countenance changed. “I’m so sorry”

“It’s okay, it’s been years” i said, trying to move over the topic. Or the image of my dad sitting me on his thighs when I was six would return, or he combing my lush hair when I was fifteen and below.

“I know it’s not, because I lost my dad too. And that initiated my mom’s illness” he said, as if he was trying to tread a safe path. “She can’t get over him”

I simply listened to him talk, with utter shock because i didn’t know to respond, but it was mostly for the fact that, it was the exact same thing happening to me.

“She can’t get over him, and she doesn’t even want to” he sighed and I just stared at him. His turquoise eyes looked distant for a minute.

“She’s a shadow of herself, literally. Turns out she’s been keeping secrets, secrets that involve her late husband, but she doesn’t want to open up. Not to me, my other brother or to her therapist. No one at all. And the secrets are eating her alive” he shrugged.

“We have tried everything”

In that moment, all I could do was stay silent.

“She cuts her skin, does not eat until we force food down her throat, does not talk to anyone..” he paused to wipe a threatening tear off his eyelids. He really needed that pause because he was a little out of breath.

“Does not have friends, stays indoors all day, silent and looking out the window. She runs away sometimes and when we find her, she’s..” he stopped, and chugged a glass of juice quickly.

I made a face that meant it was okay for him to talk about it or not talk about it.

“She just wants to die.” He said with a tone of finality. It appeared he was starting to get emotional because he stopped doing everything including staring at me, for many seconds.

“I feel that way too. I can’t exactly relate to your mom’s predicament, but I honestly feel like dying sometimes. Giving up, I mean. And I also can’t get over my dad” I stopped to catch his reaction. He was looking at me and his eyes were sullen.

“My mom can’t get over him too. But in this case, she doesn’t mope around or stay indoors. She nags me instead. Pours all her aggression on me. Kills my esteem. She nags me everyday, so much that I began to hate her early night life. I still hate her” I stopped, willing myself to continue but no words came out.

“I know she’s hurting” I said, my voice breaking.

“That’s her coping mechanism?” Rooney whispered, softly.

“I don’t want to believe it. She’s been like this before he died. It only got a lot worse is all”

“Clarissa” he folded his hands on the table and peered into my face without any shyness. “Sometimes when we get tired of running, because our past catches with us, and because running makes us exhausted, we sometimes find something that brings a little streak of light into our predicament, and reminds us that we are not alone and that the future is bright.

A streak of light that makes us hold on to a tiny thread of hope or no hope at all.

That light that makes us want to continue living and growing, because we don’t want to be gone and as a result, be unable to see the light like we used to”

“That’s a lot”

“I think I have found that something.” He said, focusing all his attention on me. I did not quite understand him, so I just listened.

“It keeps me going. It gives me life and radiance, it exemplifies nature and beauty. Makes me believe that there’s light at the end of the tunnel.

Most especially and oddly, it makes me strongly believe that my mom will be fine”

“I am so happy about that” I simply said, smiling. I thought I saw his eyes dilate that moment or maybe I was imagining it.

“It’s weird seeing this something, and the next thing I’m thinking is that life is beautiful, even with all its ills.”

“And, I want to keep this something around me forever, because it is a treasure, and deserves to be kept safe”

Rooney got up and walked up to me all of a sudden, then he picked my hand and walked me back to my apartment.

I did not question him. I just let him do anything he wanted. I guess that’s the voodoo working.

After tonight, i subconsciously registered it in my mind that he was controlling me and i was doing his bidding without my knowledge.

I would try every means after tonight to avoid talking to him, even if it meant moving out of this place.

He rubbed my hands and that simple act made me lean into him a little closely. And I shook within me.

“First, I must pretend that his voodoo is not working, and that I am doing this of my own free will. I must let him know somehow” I thought. “This guy is indeed dangerous. He stalks me and also controls me from the spiritual realm” I inwardly concluded.

I looked down at his feet and confirmed that there were actually six toes on his feet. Six toes wedged together. Except you counted them, you would think they were the regular five.

I waited to feel something as I stared at it and counted again. But I did not feel anything.

And i did not scream too.

When we reached my door, he did not open it, neither did he ask me to.

Instead, he faced me and said, “Have you found your something? I hope you do” Then he gave me a brief side hug and walked away without saying goodnight.