Onsra: A novel

Chapter Two: Quill and Ink

"Anyway, we will go for a vacation." As she said those words, my breakfast came that made me process her words.

Vacation? How about my house, who's going to take care of it? And where are we having our vacation? What for?

"What?" Is the only thing I replied after my breakfast was served.

"The Team decided to take you on a vacation. Saxia, it has been months since that day, and you're still moping as if it happened just yesterday. Remember, you have a job to fulfill, don't extinguish its existence as if it is not here," her eyes reflected her voice's concern towards me, or is it just my job she's concerned about? I don't know.

"Are you saying, that I don't have any rights to mope?" I couldn't believe her! How selfish!

"No! That's not what I meant! You have every right to grieve for him. But, it has been three months since that day, you should atleast move on with your life. If he was here, he'll surely be angry with you for behaving like this. Saxia, this is not you," her voice begged as if I matter to her so much.

"I miss that woman who talks about her dreams as if that's the only thing that matters and would make her live in this cruel world. I miss how you write so passionately that it reflects how you weaved your words. I am not invalidating your emotions to feel lonely and sad for what has come at your life, you have the right to be. But, please, let that woman I once loved so dearly come back. Let us do this for you. Come with me and have a vacation. You need this."

Tears are building up in my eyelids as she said those words. It pains me, to see how I affected others with how I am acting up, and to feel such raw pain in her eyes as she said those words, it makes my heart ache even more.

I miss my self too.

"When are we going to have our vacation?" Is the only words I am able to say, from keeping my voice not cracking from the emotions swirling inside me.

"You are going to come? Are you sure? I'm so happy that you agree. But, isn't it too early for you to decide? I can give you time? Are you sure?" her voice sound so happy to hear me, and at the same time it sounds frantic, as if she doesn't know what will she do. It's obvious with her questions though.

"Really. I'm going to come, or you don't want me to? I can decide not to."

"No, no! Really, I'm so happy to know. I thought you will close your mind from coming with me."

This is my first time to see Finlan this happy—to see her guards down and show her true emotions. Well, except for when she came to his wake, she was with me one whole night, wrapping her right hand to my shoulder, as if waiting for me to cry on her shoulder. Most people in the "The Bricks Publishing" know her as the cold hearted, cruel editor, including me; maybe, the reason why she have all those thick walled guards on her heart, is for its vulnerability inside be protected.

"We will be leaving tomorrow at sunset. The place where we both will go is a secret, but I guarantee you its peacefulness. You'll surely love it there."

We talked a lot of things, including the book that the Bricks are waiting for me to submit, that I hope, I can write with the vacation that I will have together with Finlan. She guaranteed my house's safety under the Bricks' supervision. She left first before I did, since I took my breakfast there and she have things to settle first before we leave for tomorrow.

It was half past 10 when I got home through walking, and here I am, nearly done packing my things and it's half past 5, I haven't eaten lunch yet! Was I really that slow in packing? Well, It's hard to verdict what to bring and what to just left here.

I am bringing a black duffel backpack and a luggage. I don't know for how many days will we stay there, but I can feel that it would take awhile, that's why I'm bringing a lot of things with me.

I am contemplating on bringing this quill and ink that he gave me. I don't want to use these for it holds so much importance to me, these are the last gift he had given me before he left me for good, and for accepting me as a novelist; he was once against my passion in writing, and I did not care about him and his displeasure.

As I stared at both the quill and ink—in my peripheral vision, I saw his framed picture with him in an army uniform, I focused my eyes in his candid smiling face taken by someone, surely one of his army friend—he looks so carefree here, picking it up, I smiled sadly, a tear is slowly running down my cheek toward the frame I am holding. As if that lone is trigger, one after another and as if in race, tears are suddenly in haste to come out, making me see everything in a blur, just as how blury moving on is.

"I'm so sorry, for being the ungrateful daughter that I am, and for the hurtful words I lashed on you. I regret it all with all my heart, Papa. I know…that my apologies are too late for you to forgive." I can't breathe, my heart hurt so much that it can't function from doing its natural job—pump blood.

"Papa, I'm so sorry. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you," the words that I uttered were jumping from my hiccups.

I hugged the frame beneath my heart, for him to feel my hurting heart, for him to feel how it hurts to be left, how it hurts that I was never the daughter he yearned me to be, and for all the regrets.

It has been three months since he was gone, and I'm still here— stuck in the timeline where his memories feel so real and alive. I remembered that song asking where do broken hearts go? I now know. Broken hearts go in the forest where there's no way in and out, but only in circles within its vicinity, turning and turning and turning, reliving the dead memories, until broken hearts tire and die. It's as if I'm in that forest, with no compass with me to move forward north—stuck inside the memory forest that cast fogs to my decisions of life, in between which way to go: north or south?

But one thing is for sure, I want to follow him where he is.