Lacking Fragments: A Novel (Completed)

A Trip to the Mainland II

For the second time this month of December, we—in exclusion of my wife, Annalise—reached the nearest train station from our home again, from the subdivision. And I, on the way here, made sure I had calmed down.

     I had to admit now.

     Kiki didn't deserve my anger crack-up. It was so rude of me, I mustn't deny, to lose my full control over my emotions. I didn't expect her to be observing me all this time, of how I truly felt toward my wife; how my eyes yearn for something more than her subtle neglect. That, in truth, I must say my daughter had only spoken verity. And for that, after a realization about the issue, a couple of minutes after we hopped off the jeepney, I had felt the terrible need to say sorry to my daughter. For that second time. For pardon; of which, I got silence instead.

     Now, in the train station.

     First, we lined up to get tickets to the mainland, to our destination. Ticket line wasn't far-stretched long though; it only took us two minutes of waiting and stepping forward at times, until we reached the front, where train tickets are mainly sold. By this point, I told the agent I'd like to have two for myself and my daughter.

     "Where to?" she asked, in tone like she already heard me the first time, yet decided to ask again. "Two tickets?"

     "To the mainland," I repeated. "FTI Station."

     By the stare she was giving me through her kind of suspecting eyes, almost similar to the driver and the other jeepney passengers before, I noticed that she was, in a way, accusing me something of a wrongdoing. "Is she your daughter?"

     "FTI," I said the specific station, again, "and yes, she's my daughter."

     "Pretty girl."

     "Indeed she is," I agreed. "Like her mother."

     "Is that true, little girl?" she asked Kiki, whom, as she stood downcast beside of me, looking gloomy. As if a cloudy day on Thursday afternoon. Like a below-average effort being exerted into something, as for her answer, Kiki nodded yes to the ticket agent. "Alright, then. Have a safe trip, you two."

     Before the train arrived, Kiki and I waited half an hour. We sat on columned chairs; during that half an hour, there occurred soundless conversation between me and my daughter, exactly where we were sitting. Through my vision a little blurry but tolerable, to keep my mind off this silence so plain and sulking between us, I just counted how many passengers in this province were standing still; those who were lined up to get their tickets; those waiting for their turn at the front desk, and who were waiting for the train to come. In time, I reached only a small amount: twenty-five passengers, excluding me and my daughter. Aftercount I looked at Kiki; she remained quiet and reserved— she kept behaving this way ever since I shouted at her minutes back.

     I asked for forgiveness again. How sorry am I for verbally lashing out to her... And yet, she didn't look at me like she believes it, this request for pardon. And for moments, as the train arriving to where we were waiting, Kiki kept her quiet as still as starless midnight sky. In return, I didn't push for a conversation. Like her, I sat and stood with my lips fully closed, and until then, the long-in-length transporter came and ready to be fared.

     Kiki and I entered with no exchange of words. Between us was silence neither uncomfortable nor homelike. It was blank, like the empty spaces found in space. Not in point of black holes, but space. That, perhaps, might be waiting to be filled with conversation, a day-to-day talk. Just one topic. One and it would be filled. But still, none of us breathed a word even after the train doors shut.

     The engine started once again.

     At first, inside the train—similar to what I had observed at the waiting area—the passengers including us only amounted small; the spaces inside were enough to make us feel comfortable, make us not look haggard. And so because of it I'd have to be thankful. Great start. All of us had the luxury to sit our buttocks on train seats, and to feel the comfy materials of it, as the almost-cushions. At this stage, our baggage had the opportunity to be by our sides. In my case and Kiki's, we had her backpack and my little luggage filled with our selected clothes.