naratif [ejen ali]

wistful girl

There was a time I used to look into my father's eyes
In a happy home I was a king, I had a golden throne
Those days are gone and now they're memories on the wall
I hear the songs from the places where I was born

-S. H. Mafia

"I thought the General was your real father."

"Isn't that actually obvious by now? We've known each other for over a year."

"I mean," he sighs, "-how would I know? I assumed your mother was Chinese and you're uh, what they call it... chindian? Chindian! Yeah, okay. But back then, did you really tell me the truth?"

—

Ali Ghazali had been pestering her about her parents.

Well, not actually 'pestering'. He's just asking nicely, but Alicia didn't feel like answering his questions. She knows the boy probably would not let his curiosity lay to rest. He will somehow find his answer (maybe from Agent Bakar) or if he has an ounce of brain cell in his head that is actually functional, Ali will try and find her agent profile (with the help from Khai, of course).

Except that would get them into trouble. As far as Alicia can recall, their agent profiles are top secret.

But even though he annoys her back to back just for an answer to his questions, Ali might as well talk to a hole. Who knows, maybe that hole can actually talk back. Alicia doesn't know anything about her parents besides the data provided from M.A.T.A files and a few digital biographies mentioning their names here and there. She doesn't know what kind of people they are, how they behave, what their habits and routines are, none. They left her when she was really small. Of course, who can remember anything at such a young age?

Rolling her eyes, Alicia shook her head and groaned. "I'm not having this conversation. I'm leaving."

"Alicia wait-"

"And don't forget we have a meeting at 11. God knows why you're always taking your sweet time getting ready."

"Hey I'm not always late!"

"Yes you do."

"That was me before. I've changed now!"

"Uh huh sure."

Good, he's getting distracted. Alicia took her chance and left quickly.

Truthfully she yearned to have parental love like any other child would. She wanted to know what it felt like to be carried and swung around by her father. She wanted to know how warm her mother's arms felt when they snuggled together during nap time.

Does her father like to crack jokes? She sometimes hears stories from the other young agents how their father likes to tell "dad jokes". From the way they described it, the jokes are mostly puns and one-liners to induce quick laughs (though that wasn't usually the case). The over-simplistic humour would catch someone off-guard, invoking a sigh of defeat or an angry scoff. To her, it sounds lovely. Alicia would love to hear her father's jokes.

Does her mother like to cook? She remembered that the General always cooked a dish called ABC soup whenever she got sick. Uncle Rahul once revealed that her late mother told them, in an off-handed comment, that she loved this soup. Unfortunately, Alicia was not really fond of this particular dish. It's an 'okay' dish, doesn't require too many ingredients and overall a really simple meal to make especially during lazy days. Once, she accidentally put too much chili powder into the soup in an attempt to spice up the taste.

When she was younger she always felt envious of her peers, especially during report card day. Their parents will come and sit with their child, waiting and reviewing their examination results. The Neuro girl's eyes naturally landed on their hands; how they patted their child's head lovingly. She craved that kind of comfort. She craved that thing that she never ever had the chance of tasting. Perhaps she did when she was just a baby, and how sometimes she wished she could recall anything about those days. Sadly, nothing ever came.

Her adoptive father, General Rama sometimes cleared his schedule to be present during that particular day. Sometimes when he gets caught up in the middle of important missions, one of her 3 uncles will come.

Alicia was grateful. At least she had someone to look after her and praise her for her achievements. But still the envy remains, taking root in the soft flesh of her heart and weaving its branches around the veins. Her only cure was numbing it, tampering it in hopes to slow the poison down. It will die slowly. It will disappear on its own one day. For now she needs to focus on what she wanted to accomplish and what was expected of her.