“Anything in your big sized skull? When you do college application already? Why I tell you and nothing go in your head?” my mom yelled into my ear, with a drop of her angry saliva landing on my nose bridge, her usually already mean looking face now looked horrifying. Words upon words are trying to force their way out of my mouth to retaliate against her, I would maybe yell back saying I don't understand shit she's saying because her of horrible grammar and how her words doesn't comprehend in my awesome brain. Better yet, correcting her sentence into a grammatically correct one. On the contrary, my “big sized skull” is smarter than to let my words flow out, nothing is worse than having the satisfaction of saying what I want and then getting a beating for it later.
I gave my sister Dara, a desperate glance over my steaming bowl of rice. She in return gave me a knowing look and a weak smile that never reached her eyes, except defining her fine wrinkles around her eyes. There I was, just sitting at the dinner table avoiding all eye contact, making myself as invisible as I possibly can until the end of dinner. That impossible feat was almost achieved, but no, my mom has to bring me into her spotlight. “So you applied to all top ranking universities yet?” she interrogated pompously setting down her pair of chopsticks with golden dragon engravings snaking down from top till the tip.
“No ma, I don't want to apply to some of them.” I replied softly running my fork across the over baked turkey sized chicken leg.
“WHAT YOU MEAN NO, YOU HAVE TO. YOU HAVE NO CHOICE.” In her anger fueled scream attack, more spit landed on my dry and cracked mutant sized chicken drumstick.
“Okay, I will.” I replied, knowing I wouldn't do what I just said. Sticking my fork into the drumstick, I tried to pry it apart to get to the inner meat avoiding where I thought her spit landed.
“STOP DOING THAT, JUST EAT YOUR CHICKEN” she threw me a dirty look with her deep setting wrinkled eyes that never seemed to rest, darting me a look that would just kill.
I went to my room after loading the dishwasher, compelled to at least try to understand my mom's demeanor. I ran all the possibilities in my head, maybe it's because she's nearly 70, she's probably in her late life crisis where she needs to get all her rage out on me, or the end of her menopause that drives her.
Many late nights, I just stare at the ceiling listening to the rhythmic hiss of Dara's breath. Wishing it were only Dara and I living together, even though we are 14 years apart, we've always bonded in a way that other sisters never have and never will, she's more or less like a second mom to me. Today she looked down at my face in her lap with her small petite fingers wiped the build up of tears off the corner of my right eye, running her fingers through my hair, she said: “They say that every tear has it own reason, every smile has its own season. Don't take it to heart, what you are and nothing she say should ever change the way you feel about yourself.” She glanced the stack of paper on our desk. “I've been wanted to tell you this for a while--”
BEEP BEEP, her pager sounded with an emergency call from the hospital, with a sorrowful backward glance at me sitting up in her bed, she grabbed her car keys and rushed out the door.
After studying tirelessly to be a doctor for six years, Dara finally achieved her dream of helping others when they are in need. Selfishly I've always hinted that her time alone with me has been scarce and it made me realize the importance of having her with me. She works at a public hospital near by and lives at home sharing a bedroom with me, not because she doesn't have the ability to move out and get her own place, but because I begged her to not leave me in this hellhole by myself. Maybe it was my selfishness or persistence, I managed to make my sister stay with me for the past 7 years even when she was studying to get her doctorate. She and I will finally have a breathe of freedom after I go off to college somewhere far, beyond reach from my parents.
I dragged my feet to my desk, clearing the stack of paper off the table to use the computer. I lifted almost all the papers off and set it on the floor with a grunt, on the desk I left a sheet of paper, which I didn't manage to get, upon closer look it was a copy of my birth certificate. With cursive letters spelled out my name Bonny Jamie Chan, my birthday June, 6, 1993, the time of my birth, and finally listed my birth mom.
Dara Chan.
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I sat front row next to Dara, surrounded by family members I never really cared to remember, I watched as my distance cousin or aunt laid a beige flower on top of my 'mom's' casket. Avoiding eye contact as the person turned around to sit back down. I laid my eyes on a pot of delicate orchids, the evergreen leaves and tainted fuchsia on the pale translucent petals looks as if a cloud of mist looms over it, this eye popping colors surely do not belong in that lonely corner, let alone a funeral house. Men in black suits brush past the petals as they hurried to leave after setting down her casket. Upon closer look, the pot of delicate exotic orchids is nothing more than a twisted bunches of plastic, coated by dust from years of display. I envied its resilience.
I fumbled with my cue cards that outlined what I should say for the speech to honor my 'mom' that passed away, according to movies right now I should be wearing dark sunglasses and weak in my family members arms from crying. I tried my best to remember the good times I had with her, there weren't much moments to choose from. I have to admit. I have always hated her for yelling and scolding me. It was the constant bickering that left an impression as I moved on to college, it was the emptiness that I didn't long for.
Sitting next to me, my sister Dara, my mortal support Dara, my mom Dara. She gave my clammy hands a squeeze, as I made my way up to the stand and stood behind the microphone.
The buzz of conversation lingered for a moment and then ebbed down, someone blew their nose with a honk. I sucked in my stomach and said: “May my grandmother rest in peace…”
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