What It Means To Regret

September: Chapter 2 - John

I STRAIGHTENED my back, staring at the bowl of watery vegetable soup with a loaf of plain white bread in front of me. This was my dinner for today. Mum sat beside me, barely eating anything from her bowl of soup but she never ate as much as she liked, no matter how much I persisted her to.

I heard a small sniff and looked up to see Mum’s eyes red-rimmed and blotchy, as if she had been crying for hours while I was away. Something weird in my throat made me unable to speak at the thought of it, and my eyes subconsciously moved to her head.

She wasn’t wearing her wig, and even though it had been years, I still felt sick whenever my eyes fell on her bald head, spotless, smooth, and fragile looking as if a newborn’s.

I tore my gaze away and continued to eat. We sat on the small wooden kitchen table, and though very tiny, Mum tried to make the kitchen as cozy as she could afford to but that all stop ever since last year, ever since her last surgery.

“John?” I carefully looked up again, making sure not to stare at her hairless head, “Yes, Mum?”

Mum seemed to be trying hard to choose her words, she bit her lower lip, “Well…, your sixteenth birthday’s coming near… so would you like me to get something for you?” she smiled lightly, a weak but hopeful smile. I knew what she was trying to do, but we could hardly pay the rent for our small apartment, let alone buy presents for a birthday. So how could I even think about it?

I lowered my head a bit, swallowing the last spoonful of the now cold soup, and tried to smile, “It’s all right, Mum. I don’t need anything.” This was a complete lie, because I was short on nearly everything, whether it was clothes, food, or stationary for school. Mum must have known too, for she sighed and said in a quiet voice, “You can at least tell me a bit, you know. It’s not like I can’t do anything for you.” I replied with a small ‘Hmm’ and carried my and Mum’s empty bowls to the small steel sink, aware of her gaze on my back.

I put on a pair of bright yellow rubber gloves and silently scrubbed the dirty dishes, waiting for Mum to leave from the corner of my heart. I didn’t want her to ask me about that.

Thump.

Thump.

I could feel my heartbeat getting faster, screaming for me to run away before she could ask me, but I stood still, white soapy foam on my gloved hands.

Minutes passed without any exchange between us but then I heard Mum ask in a hesitant voice, “John?”

“…Hmm, Mum?”

Thump.

Thump, thump.

“Is… there something bothering you? Anything I could help with?”

You did something, didn’t you?

I bit my lips in frustration, the sponge in my grip squeezed tight.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump, thump.

“What do you mean?”

Mum didn’t expect me to ask her that, because for a few seconds she didn’t speak again nor did I glance back at her, I couldn’t.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

“Well…I got a call from your school.”

It felt as if my heart had stopped beating, a small gasp nearly escaped from my mouth as I heard her words. I knew this was going to happen sooner or later but I didn’t want to hear more, not now, not when Mum’s-

“And… your teacher; Mr. Collins, told me that you have been… going through something.”

THUMP. Before I knew it, I was shaking in anger, gritting my teeth so hard I thought they might break.

Going through something?

I could hardly control myself, yet Mum continued talking, as if she hadn’t realized that but I couldn’t blame her, not when she was so sick.

And so lonely.

Yet I-

“And well, he told me things… Of course, he didn’t say anything about you, he’s just, just a bit worried.”

“That’s why-“ but I couldn’t bear it any longer. I stared straight into her hazel eyes and smiled, a smile I wished had reached my eyes. “…Thanks Mum, but I think I know what to do. So…” for some reason, my words turned into a plea, but I didn’t realize, “could you just give me some time?”

Silence.

The grandfather clock hung on the wall behind Mum went ticking, but not much louder than my heartbeat.

Tick, tock.

THUMP, THUMP.

I only waited for few seconds for her to reply and was about to leave when I heard Mum whisper, “It’s alright, John.”

I glanced back and saw her smiling. Even though she was scrawny and bald, she looked so pretty in my eyes, so strong, I felt breathless, and-

“Yeah, thanks, Mum.”

A coward.

***

Surrounded by the dark, I stared listlessly at the air, curled up in a thick blanket. It had been hours since I had dinner with Mum, but I could hardly fall asleep, thrashing and turning very few minutes. I rolled on my bed, turning my crumpled pillow to the cold side and flattening it.

The black wristwatch on my wrist read 1:35 AM and yet I felt wide awake, as if I had been sleeping for hours in the morning and had been waiting for nightfall, or rather wishing for it.

I did feel better at night but not always. Maybe because it was quiet, or that I was alone, alone in my thoughts. And today, Mum’s words echoed in my head, followed by loud whispers of the demon in my heart.

Going through something? ‘What does she know!?’

Help me? ‘She’s lying.’

When she is so sick and tired? ‘She doesn’t care anymore.’

‘She doesn’t want to,’ whispered the voice in my head, gentle, understanding yet cunning and deceiving, ‘She’s tired of you-‘

‘No!’ yelled another voice, unyielding, strong but for some reason, a bit weak. ‘She’s just-‘

I brushed my useless thoughts aside, Mum wasn’t like that, she couldn’t be.

Mum was an orphan from the countryside, but no one adopted her, even though she had stayed there till she was eighteen. Maybe it was because she was a bit weak physically, ‘a burden’ for the family or because she wasn’t good at studying. But only brainless people think like that, people who don’t deserve good kids in the first place.

Mum was probably a lonely child waiting for her turn to leave the orphanage, hand in hand with her new parents but it never came true for her.

Moving to the city alone, Mum took on many part-time jobs to ‘survive’ in the city. The one who helped her a lot was Dad, who she had met 2 years after arriving at the city. They got married and had me. Everything was good, Dad had a stable job, Mum worked online as an editor. All was perfect, yet why-

Why did we turn like this?

Why did we have to turn like this?

Before I had realized, the corners of my eyes tingled, something rubber-like stuck in my throat, but suddenly, Dad’s words echoed in my head. “Never look back at the past, John. What has happened has passed. What matters now is what’s going to happen next. If you keep glancing back, it’s okay, regretting is a part of our lives but don’t ever stick up to it or you would lose hope for the future you wished and end up where you didn’t.”

“Idiot.” I muttered to myself; how could I cry? Mum has no one except me, and here I was, already losing hope.

“Idiot.” I said again, rubbing my eyes, “Boys shouldn’t cry.”

A big wave of sudden sleepiness ran through me, and I had hardly closed my eyes when it was morning again.