Her Season

Chapter 1: Summer

I went straight back home after the call. It was already a quarter past seven and I was still thinking if I should grab some breakfast or not. I am not a morning person. I usually skip breakfast because I tend to wake up too late. But not during these times.

Looking around in the kitchen corner of my studio-type apartment, I found nothing edible. I am not fond of cooking. That is the reason why I rarely buy groceries. I only do it when I run out of toiletries.

While on the other hand, Orion is a good chef. Cooking is his pastime. He used to cook a lot and have some delivered and stuck in my place. He does this whenever he feels like doing it. And that “whenever” is at least once or twice a month. The guy really knows how to spoil me.

If I have no food supply from him, I only settle for anything I see in the convenience store nearby. But I don’t think I can walk a little more today with the run I did earlier. Maybe, a cup of coffee will be just fine and get me through this morning.

I decided to start packing while enjoying my coffee. Now I recall that Orion mentioned some weeks ago that his mom was getting married. Again. This is her third time, I guess. The same number of times that I met her. But she treated me so well all those times.

I first came face to face with Orion’s mom three years ago, Aunt Helena, at the former’s birthday banquet in Hawaii. She was based there back then with her second husband. I remember her being so bubbly and beautiful. A typical Asian beauty with an unfeigned kind heart. Also, she radiates the same warmth Orion has.

Our second encounter was a year ago when she visited Orion here in Poland. She was so delighted to introduce her new man to us after being single for six months. I could still see how a bit disappointed Orion was at first but eventually loosened up.

He’s just worried about his mom who's been in failed relationships but still supportive as long as she's content and happy. Their mother-and-son bond is one of a kind. And I somehow felt jealous of that.

Orion and I agreed to stay in their hometown for only a week, so I decided to pack some of my things in a medium-sized suitcase. I don’t have plans to stay for very long. If not only for Aunt Helena, I surely wouldn’t be back. Nor even dreamed of setting my feet in my own home country again.

Just thinking about the mere fact that I will be in the same land I used to grow up in suffocates me with distressing memories. Memories that, no matter how much effort I exerted to bury deep within my mind, keep on coming like season every time.

Birthdays should be happy events, they used to be, but no longer for a five-year-old kid like me.

They say time heals all wounds and people tend to forget as time goes by. However, I am an exception. I remember it all. Vividly. Like it all happened a while ago.

It was my most anticipated day of summer. I was with my mom in the back seat of our car while my dad drove. We were singing happily. It was my fifth birthday.

My parents are both busy with their careers, but they still always make time for me. My dad was a surgeon while my mom was an architect. I am an only child and grew up in a knit family.

The initial plan for my birthday was a celebration at our house with close friends and relatives, but I requested to visit the biggest amusement park in the country. It was granted. And my parents plan to still continue the party at our house the next day instead.

We were a bit late to our scheduled plan because my dad attended an important inquiry in the hospital early that morning. I don’t mind at all, for as much as I am with my mom and dad.

We sang together in the car one song after another while laughing in between. It was such a precious summer memory for me.

Not until I heard a loud thud somewhere besides my dad, then followed by a great impact. Like something so fast and big collided with us. It was so unexpected that we didn’t get the chance to scream.

I can feel my mom’s tight embrace as we were helplessly dragged and then overturned inside the car. It was so fast, but felt like an eternity. Though I am not feeling anything, all I can think about is the possibility that my mom might remove her seatbelt just to keep me covered. And that scares the hell out of me.

A creeping silence enveloped my ears afterward. Smells of blood reek into my nose. My eyes were heavy, and the pain was starting to build up.

I can clearly remember calling my mom with a soft moan and seeing her lifeless, unrecognizable face before total darkness consumed me.

I woke up in an unfamiliar room. Slowly, my eyes surveyed the surroundings. The white wall matches the bright lights which made the room brighter.

A familiar back figure was standing near the side table, arranging flowers on the vase using one hand and the other holding a phone near her ear. Probably talking to someone.

“No. She’s still not awake. Please, let us wait for her.” She pleaded on the other line.

“Mom?” A soft mumble escaped from my mouth that made her turn around to face me.

Shock and relief were evident on her face when our eyes met. She hurriedly came close to me while pushing something on her phone, most likely the end call button.

“Oh, Dear God!” she said while sitting on the chair next to my bed. “Hi, sweetie. How are you?” she gently added throughout the time she surveyed my body swiftly.

This is not my mom. Fear is starting to spread in me as horrifying scenes flash back in my mind.

“Where’s Mom and Dad?” I still asked in a murmur-like manner despite knowing the vicious truth.

My parents used to be so proud of my good memory, regardless of my young age. It made me so happy every time they bragged about it to their colleagues. But now, I despise it.

“I’m sorry, Swan. I am so sorry.” She answered with eyes welling up.

I don’t really understand what she is sorry about. She’s not even there. What happened was a mere accident. Or unless it was planned. But who would dare? Is she sorry because she’s in pain too? Or because she pities me? I hate all the thoughts that are building up in my head.

She called for the doctor while still crying. I didn’t. Seems like all my emotions have been taken away from me.

The doctor did a thorough check on me for at least half an hour. Afterward, he declared that I needed to stay for two more days for further monitoring and tests. They told me that I had been unconscious for three days. The doctor explained that it might be because of the trauma. However, all I could visibly see on me were some bruises and scratches. Other than that, I can feel that I am physically fine.

Luciana Lopez listened to the doctor attentively while sobbing little by little. Her tears were now dry, but her eyes were still puffy.

She is my mother’s twin sister. They were so identical only that my mom has softer features while hers were in between soft and firm. Both are equally beautiful, but my mom has a more welcoming aura.

When the doctor left, Aunt Lucy sat again and slowly caressed my hair. I closed my eyes for the comfort it gave.

Two days had passed, and I was discharged from the hospital. Aunt Lucy never left my side during those times. She was extra caring. And I hate to admit it, but it felt so comfortable.

We arrived at our house after more than an hour. It was so strange. The warmth I experienced every time I was here was long gone. I unconsciously held onto my Aunt Lucy’s hand, who was standing beside me in front of the doorway, as we stepped inside.

The inside was well-lit, and our house helpers welcomed us. They were all smiling but anyone could easily sense that they were faking it. I even caught one abruptly wiping off something in her eyes.

Aunt Lucy accompanied me to my bedroom. She asked me if I wanted to rest or see my parents. I chose the latter.

Wearing my simplest black dress, we headed to my parents’ wake. It was in the chapel located in the center of our subdivision.

There were so many burial flowers around that were perfectly arranged. Just like how my mom used to decorate the venue of our parties.

Visitors were dressed either in black or in white. They were all familiar. Most were our relatives. Some were my dad’s friends and colleagues. Others were my mom’s. They were all gathered here to pay respect and condolences.

All eyes were on me the moment the crowd was informed of my presence. While mine were fixated on the two bronze caskets at the aisle's other end.

No one dared to talk as I approached those things that caught my eye. Little step after another, with heavy breathing and a loud pumping heartbeat, my trembling legs finally reached my destination.

My mind went blank for a split second. I felt numb, breathless, and lifeless. Just like my beautiful parents who were peacefully lying in those coffins.

But still, I shed no tears.

Just like this summer dries all the tears on me.