Indra

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I N D R A F O R E S T

"Indra, I don't know why you can't give me a couple of bucks." My mother spits out.

"Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, I don't have the amount you need." I explain, bitterness laced in my voice. My feet stomp on the pavement, walking to the coffee shop near my house. A gust of wind sneaks inside my thick hoodie, making me shiver all over.

"But you've been working at that vinyl shop for a while now." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "Okay, how about you give me the amount you have right now."

I lift my head up at the cloudless blue sky, the warmth ray from the sun glistens on my face, and a groan slips off my mouth. "Mom, I'm not going to give you three hundred bucks."

"Why-"

"I don't need to tell you why." I snap, running my finger through my hair, gripping it tightly, stopping myself from crying.

I'm such an emotional bitch.

"You've always been so selfish, why can't you be more like your brother." She signs aggressively.

"Then go ask him!" I yell, and people turn to look at me. My eyes widen due to the people's reaction to my yelling. I mouth "sorry" to the people who walk past me with worried facial expressions visible on their faces. I take a deep breath, "Then go ask him for money."

"He already gave me money last week and I don't want to bother him too much. He got a new job, did you hear? He's working very hard and is helping me out." She rants, amusement in her voice. She goes on and on about how amazing my brother is. Does she not realize that I'm her daughter too? I'm still surprised that I haven't even hung up on her.

I don't even know why I answered her call in the first place. Maybe because I had hoped she would call me one day and ask for once If I was okay or maybe say she's proud of me. No matter what my mother does, I hold onto that hope. Hope that she will recognize me without bringing up my brother, hope that she would comfort me when I'm sad, hope that she won't use me for money, and hope for one day, just one day, I will feel the love that my brother receives from her. However, I feel that hope slowly dying in my body with each passing second.

After my dad died, I have never received comfort from anyone, not from my mother, not from my brother, not from anyone in this magnificent world I live in. And at the time, I desired comfort and the only comfort I had was the fake illusion that I created in my head, fantasizing about a life where I was nothing but blissful. A fantasy where my father is alive, a fantasy where my mother loves me, a fantasy where my brother and I are in harmony, and a fantasy of having a family that isn't in pieces.

And you know what sucks, waking up the next day, realizing that none of that shit was real. It was all fake. It causes great pain in my heart to know that I will never find true happiness like all those false realities I have made up in my head because I know I won't be truly happy in this lifetime. Maybe in the afterlife.

"Indra, are you even listening?" She scoffs.

"No, mom, I'm not." I mumble, stopping my movements once I reached the small white-painted coffee shop. Tables and chairs are set up in front of large clear windows, the sun reflecting off the transparent door in front of me not wanting me to miss the perfect sight of it shining, and a small number of people in the coffee shop. I press my hand on the door and push the door open. A wave of radiant heat strikes my body, warming up my body instantly. A strong aroma of coffee and bakery goods slips into my mouth without permission to tease my tongue with astonishing flavors, grumbles erupt my stomach like a volcano. The coffee shop was lit up due to the sunlight from outside, tables and chairs were set up against the light blue-painted walls, almost wanting everyone in here to not experience the full colors of the room, some people were seated on the chairs, and some were waiting in line. "Um, I got to go, mom. Talk to you... whenever you call. Bye."