Bubble Gum Kisses

Kapittel 21.1

Kapittel 21.1

Vanessa

"Mom, I'm off," I announced as soon as I descended downstairs.

In the living room, my mom was sitting on the couch with her back hunched, playing with Zach who was flailing the dinosaurs in his hands. Seeing the scrunched forehead, dark bags, and scowl on Mom's face, I could tell she wasn't pleased with the young man waking up way too early. Zach was a handful last night. He was way too active and went around dancing and running in their room all night that it went to the point of Mom waking me up at 3 AM to ask for help. The little disaster went to sleep an hour later.

I stared at my tired mother's face for a solemn moment, thinking if I should take the initiative and buy melatonin jellies later.

"Okay, honey. Take care," she said, turning to look at me. It gave me a clearer view of her face. Her eye bags were so dark and swollen that they reached her cheeks. She was supposed to be at work today, but I heard her calling in sick. Nanny asked for a day off last night, excusing that she had an important affair, and we didn't have anyone to call in to substitute.

"Bye, Vannieee," my younger brother said while I was walking to the door, chomping his hand in his mouth frothing with saliva.

"I'll try to get home the soonest I can," I assured her.

"No. It's okay, honey. Just take your time," she said, giving me a weak smile. It caused her eyebags to engorge further, making me determined to get through with the project fast.

"You brought flowers?" I asked when I noticed the coffee table had a vase of flowers. They seemed to be freshly cut too. Seeing them made me recall. I think she brought flowers not too long ago as well. Mom loved flowers but didn't buy them too often. It was Dad who always bought bouquets as gifts for her.

"I just got them," she answered, her smile seeming to get wider. "Pretty aren't they?" she then asked, her eyes laid on them. They glistened so brightly that it got past my peripheral vision.

"Yeah. Reminds me of back then..." I remarked, pensively looking at the ethereal blossoms arranged beautifully on a slim container filled with water. A needle struck my chest.

"Does it?"

"I..." I was at a loss for words. My mind was at a blank slate, like an empty, deep body of water when I those words slipped from my mouth. Gosh. "I need to go now, Mom. See you later!" I decided to hasten my leave by bidding adieu and running to the door without sparing them a glance.

"Oh, okay. I love you."

"I love you too." That was my reply before finally leaving, trudging on the shivering entrance of the neighborhood.

The weather forecast said it was supposed to be sunny today, but it looked like the opposite. It was cloudy and cold, like a crisp early morning where birds sing their courtship and the dews drop from the fresh leaves.

I took a deep breath, seeping the ice-like air into my lungs. I was irritated that I let myself say those words absentmindedly. As minimal as possible, I minimize talking about Dad with Mom or anything about him or us before his death. I knew that among us, she was the one most affected by his death. I couldn't bear looking at her all the pain in her eyes. I didn't want to see those eyes when they go bloodshot and teary, reminding me of the void that I have earnestly wanted to forget, let alone feel.

"No bad thoughts, Van. No bad thoughts," I mumbled to myself, slapping my cheeks with a force so little it could hardly be called a slap.

Today, I will be spending the entire time making the History project, which will be happening in Friso's house after he "enthusiastically" volunteered, and assured us that his parents were cool with it. Of course, they'd be cool since they weren't always around in that place. His father was a busy business tycoon monopolizing the world of business, while his mother was a fashion designer who was occupied with expressing whatever creative nuance she'd come up with through her designs.

I was expecting to have a hectic ride to that place, considering that he was situated on the Upper East Side. Thankfully, he texted that he would be sending someone to pick us up, Maxim and I only had to wait outside our respective houses. Talk about top-class hosting.

It only took me a small stroll to get to the entrance. I raised my wrist for a glance at the time since a familiar BMW was parking near the residential gate. An elder man with a familiar frame and uniform was waiting by the backseat door. I couldn't help but walk at a faster pace to approach that man.

"You know that man?" the security guard asked as I was getting past the entrance's guardhouse, pointing his thick thumb to the grand, shiny vehicle.

"Yeah." I nodded. "I'm familiar with him. Almost like family."

"It's been a while, Sir Richard," I greeted Richard upon approaching him. I got the habit of addressing him with "Sir" because I mistook him for a fairytale knight before because of his manner of speech. It kind of grew on me as time passed.

"Indeed it has, Ms. Hatherne." He was the same as ever, all elegant and refined like a man living in the 1950s in terms of manner and speech. But his looks? He was aging like fine wine, I couldn't believe that this man was the same age as my late grandfathers. "You have grown. You were about this height when we last met," he said, leveling his hand to his chest.

He was right. I had strained the muscles on my neck to look up at him before, but now, I was close to getting on the same eye level with him. Strangely, it reminded me of Friso. Based on his current formidable figure and height, it was a no-brainer to tell that he was now taller than Richard.

"You're calling me Ms. Hatherne now?! I thought I was Vanessa!" I whined jokingly like a child.

"But it would be impolite if I call such a fine lady so rudely," he retorted ever so gently, swiftly stepping aside and opening the door behind him for me to enter.

"Geez, you're making it sound like we're strangers," I remarked, gratefully getting inside.

I almost gasped when the smell of citrus invaded my nostrils, my senses tingling. It gave a sense of aching familiarity like I was at a place that I had been long gone from and finally returned to, nostalgia if I could say so.

This was how Friso's car smelled when we went out on joyrides in the late evening. I recalled that we did it so often when I was in my rebellious phase. I would pretend to be fast asleep, and as soon as the lights were out, I'd sneak out to meet with him. We'd hang out by the sea while eating take-out food. We were wild and angsty teens who couldn't understand how the world worked and only cared for our own feelings that we ourselves couldn't understand. We sought a sense of liberation for relief but only ended up hurting ourselves in the end.

Watching the sea with Friso, and indulging in the cool ocean breeze and the saline scent brought by the tides were some of my comforts when I felt being crossed by my parents when they were... well, just being parents. Aside from that was the faint smell of citrus that dominated his car when we were in his car, singing songs that paralleled vehemently to our emotions derived from our raging hormones.

"May I inquire if the seating is to your comfort?" Richard suddenly asked, breaking me off from my reverie.

"Yeah, I like it," I answered with a half-hearted smile.

"And the scent? I hope it's to your liking."

"I like it too," I answered, leaning my back to the seat to relax.

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