WESTTHESUNFROMANOTHERSTAR, Chapter 7: Tear
Arthit
I calmed down a bit after talking with Direk. At least, it brought me back to my senses. I shouldn’t be one hundred percent sure that the person that kid was talking to is my mother. There’s more than one person named Emma in the world, and if mom were still here, why wouldn’t she come to see me or Direk? Also, that kid was talking to Emma in Thai, but my mother couldn’t speak Thai.
But because of Donat’s situation and what happened with that kid, I was thrown off for quite a while before returning to normal. I didn’t ask, didn’t get involved with that kid, and forgot about Emma, returning to my usual boring life.
Direk might be a bit better than me at accepting mom’s death; he believes almost one hundred percent that she’s gone, but I only believe it halfway. I don’t know, maybe I’m still easily affected by this because I don’t believe what anyone tells me about mom being gone. And honestly, those fortune tellers that Direk went to, how much can we trust them? Why let just anyone tell us that mom isn’t here anymore? His heart still wants her to be here, even though another part of him knows it’s impossible. I want to see her, talk to her, but since it can’t be, I don’t want to miss her. I try to forget and remind myself that it’s impossible, but sometimes, I still want to hope. It’s damn contradictory.
It’s like someone who hasn’t fully accepted the truth. If he could accept it, it would be easier to cope, wouldn’t it?
Encountering ghosts only reinforced the idea that there’s still a chance the dead could be around. I know my mother’s lifespan has ended, but I still don’t want to believe it, and recently, I even hoped that Emma, whom that kid talks to, might be my mother.
It’s like the truth is right in front of you, but you can still deceive yourself. Every time I dream of my mother, I keep thinking she’s still here, even though it’s just a dream. Dreams are just our thoughts.
I was gone for three days to heal my heartache in Bali. I just got back to Thailand, guessing I’ll definitely get an earful. Whatever, at least I’m feeling much better now.
But who is the Emma he talks to? I need to curse for a moment; there are millions of names, yet it has to be the same as my mother’s. I smoked so much that half my lung was eaten by cancer before I could move on from you.
I dragged my tired body, exhausted from surfing in Bali, back to the condo, put away my stuff, and then went to knock on the door next door. After a while, the same person opened it. “Who is Emma?”
“…” He didn’t answer but looked confused.
“Whatever, but damn it. If you’re going to talk to her, call her by another name.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, call her anything, just don’t call her Emma.”
“…Did you hear that?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“The other day.”
“Oh, I messed up.”
“Why?”
“It’s nothing.” He only said that before closing the door, but I reached out to stop it. He looked puzzled and looked at me again, “Can’t change the name, Emma is
Emma, I’ve been calling her that for a long time.”
“How long ago? When?”
“A long time ago.”
“How long, how many years?”
“Since I was a kid.”
Yeah, that’s why it can’t be my mother, good that I regained my composure in time. If I had convinced myself it was her and then got disappointed, it would be damn awful.
“And who is Emma, some wandering ghost?”
“A friend.”
“A friend or a ghost?”
“A friend.”
“A friend in your imagination, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh?”
“A friend in my imagination.”
“Damn, are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
What the hell, and he didn’t look like he was joking or lying, his face was deadly serious, having an imaginary friend isn’t strange if it’s a kid, but you’re grown up, man.
“You really see her?”
“That’s odd, right?”
“Yeah, odd, and you know it.”
“Yeah, I know it, so what?”
“Help me out a bit.”
“No.”
“I’ll buy you drinks.”
“It’s fine, I can buy my own.”
“You’re such a nuisance.” I cursed without even thinking. Look at him, so calm and indifferent, his face like a dead fish, his eyes emotionless as hell, what kind of person is this?” Help me.”
“Not free.”
“So heartless. Ever since the Meen incident.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hey, I’m getting annoyed here, can’t you just do it nicely? Can’t even.” I cursed in frustration, can I punch him once? He was about to close the door again. I yanked the door open and squeezed into the room. Of course, he couldn’t match my strength, so the homeowner started looking uncomfortable as I entered his room.
“Are you going to use force?” He asked, “Hitting me won’t change anything.”
“Do I look like that kind of person?”
“Yeah.”
“Exactly, always closing the door on me, what the hell are you?”
“…”
“Will you help or not? If you don’t, I’ll get North to talk to you anyway.” “Cheater.” He said, frowning.
“So, what?”
“Help with what?”
“You can talk to ghosts, right?” I asked, he nodded in response, “How good is your sense?”
“I…don’t know, who do you want me to talk to?”
“My mother.”
“…”
“Talk to my mother for me.”
“…Is she still around?” He asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
“That’s why I need your help.”
“What if she’s not here anymore?”
“Then I can finally let go.”
“…”
He went quiet for a while, not responding. It’s not often that I ask for help from others, but I’ve made my decision. Over the three days in Bali, I decided I’d look for my mother myself. If I find her, that’s good, but if I don’t, it’s time to accept the truth and move on. I don’t know how much to trust the mediums or fortune tellers that Direk went to see; from what Direk told me, they didn’t all say the same thing.
“Can we do it tonight?”
“Why not now?”
“I have urgent work.”
“Okay.”
“Hmm.” was all he replied. I walked back to my room, and while waiting, I tried to mentally prepare myself for my decision, sitting and contemplating the possible outcomes, but I must admit, my belief leans more towards the answer that my mother is still here.
I called North when I thought of something.
(What’s up, Phii?)
“North, can your friend be trusted?”
(Who? I have more than one friend, don’t I?)
“The one next door to me.”
(Trust what, Phii? What are you talking about?)
“About him seeing ghosts, having psychic abilities.”
(Oh, yeah, he’s not a liar. Remember when he helped with the Meen case? He talked to the ghost in the room, and described the criminal wearing black with short hair correctly.)
“Would he lie to me?”
(What? No, I just told you, he’s not a liar.)
“How strong is his sense? Can he see all the spirits?”
(I don’t know about that, but he said his sense isn’t that strong.)
“Oh, can I depend on you then?”
(Depend on what?)
“You bastard.”
(Come on, what the hell, I still don’t even know what you’re talking about.)
“But it’s not lying, for sure.”
(Yeah, it won’t lie, but it’s good at predicting, Phii, are you looking to boost your luck?)
“No, talking to you is just pointless.”
(Come on, what’s up?)
I hung up on North, at least I could trust that he wouldn’t lie to me. If he doesn’t see anything, I’ll have to find another way. Regardless, I’ve decided I want to try looking for her myself again.
…
Daotok
The thing I agreed to help the cigarette vendor with was somewhat worrying. Even if I don’t want to get involved, I probably can’t help it. If he sends North to talk to me, I won’t be able to refuse anyway.
Talk to his mother…
‘Don’t you feel anyone when you talk to him?’ Emma’s voice rang out. I turned to look at her sitting on the bed. She was looking at me as I was packing up to work at the coffee shop because I wanted a change of scenery.
“Yes, but I haven’t taken off my bracelet.” I said.
‘What if you don’t see his mother with him?’
“Then I’ll tell him that.”
‘There’s a chance his mother could be somewhere else, anywhere on this earth.’
“Yes, exactly for that reason.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder and left the room, riding my motorcycle to the coffee shop I often visit. I checked the time; it was already two in the afternoon. I started working, and before I knew it, my phone was notifying me. I picked it up to see it was already nine in the evening; I always lose track of time when working.
Someone had added me on LINE and sent me a lot of messages.
☀︎: Hey
☀︎: How evening were you talking about?
☀︎: It’s six o’clock now.
☀︎: Ah, it’s half past six now.
☀︎: It’s already 9 PM, which evening are we talking about?
☀︎: Hey, I knocked but no one answered.
☀︎: Are you dodging me?
Even though the profile picture doesn’t show their face, from the online status, it looks like it’s the cigarette-selling guy.
SS: Where did you get this LINE from?
North
☀︎: So what’s the conclusion?
SS: The work isn’t done yet.
☀︎: Yeah
☀︎: How much longer?
SS: Probably
SS: Long
SS: Can we reschedule?
☀︎:. No
☀︎: I can’t do anything now.
☀︎: Where?
SS: Where?
☀︎: Where are you?
SS: Starbucks
☀︎: Behind the uni?
SS: No
SS: xxx branch
☀︎: Damn far
☀︎: Is there much to do?
SS: Not much.
☀︎: Can’t you look right away?
SS: It’s hard to explain.
SS: I need to know some details too.
SS: I’ve never seen your mother’s face.
☀︎: Uh-huh.
☀︎: I’ll be there soon.
SS: Here?
SS: …
SS:
I put down my phone, and not long after, the cigarette guy walked over to sit opposite me. He seemed a little wet, which made me look outside to see it was raining heavily. He ran his hand through his wet hair, his face looking disheveled as he looked at me.
“So, can we talk now?”
“Yeah, we can.” I answered, my eyes still fixed on the image on my computer screen, clicking my pen on the tablet to make a cut. If I didn’t have to think about work, I could talk at the same time.
“North told me you saw a woman behind me.”
“When?”
“Some damn party, he said you guys were video calling.”
“…Cat once asked, but I told him I was joking.” I answered truthfully. At that time, it was just a prank to scare North. I didn’t think I’d be asked about it twice like this.
“Are you joking or just don’t want to tell me?”
“Joking.”
“Really?”
“No reason to lie.”
“Maybe my mother doesn’t want you to tell, or are you trying to save my feelings?”
“Do I have to keep your spirits up?” I said in my usual calm tone without turning to look at him.
“Yeah. No need, it’s annoying.”
“Hmm.” I nodded slightly, “Give me some details.”
“Like what?”
“How did she die?”
“Cancer.”
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
“…” I stayed silent for a moment, thinking. It’s been seven years already, so much time has passed, “Have you asked anyone else, like a fortune teller?”
“Yeah, they said her lifespan ended. Or that they couldn’t find her.”
“Couldn’t find her?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Why couldn’t they find her?”
“How would I know?”
“Hmm, they said her lifespan ended, why don’t you believe it?”
“I just don’t believe it.”
“And you believe me?”
“At least North said I could trust you, but the others I’ve asked, I don’t know if they can be trusted.” He said, picking up his coffee cup to drink, “How good is your sense? North said your sense isn’t strong?”
“Ah.” I nodded gently. I really had told everyone that, but that was when I was still wearing the bracelet. As I’ve mentioned, it’s a bracelet that suppresses my senses because I’m too lazy to see or feel those energies. Only those whose spiritual wavelengths match mine can I see even while wearing the bracelet, like Phii Donat, whom I see often. But for others like Phii Eng, Phii Prao, Phii Cream, I have to take off the bracelet, “No. I didn’t tell North that.”
“Really? So is your sense strong?”
“Hmm…yes.” I said in a low voice. Grandma Puangthong once said that my sense is very strong, with the peculiar ability to read others’ feelings.
“He said you can read feelings too.” “…Uh, yes.” I nodded.
“How, read hearts?”
“No. Just feelings that aren’t expressed.”
“Oh.” He nodded slightly, “Don’t read my feelings.”
“I won’t.” I said. I don’t like reading others’ feelings because it’s bothersome. Plus, it’s not that easy; it requires concentrating on that person quite a bit, and the worst part is, I feel what they feel. The last time I read Phii Olin’s feelings, the killer of Phii Donat, it made me feel terrible for a whole day, making me realize how torturous guilt can be. Even though I’m not usually sensitive to such things, because Phii Olin was, I became sensitive too.
“So, can you look now? Is there anyone with me?” He got straight to the point. I wanted to look right away, but I didn’t want to leave my work. If I stopped, it would be hard to get back into the mood.
“Work first.”
“Okay.” He said, sounding somewhat displeased. I didn’t pay him more attention, focusing back on my work for nearly half an hour before thinking it was time for a break. I finished cutting the lines and decided to color tomorrow,
“Done?”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded, then reached to take off the bracelet from my left wrist. The familiar oppressive feeling surged in immediately, spirits wandering outside, someone crying by the road, three spirits fighting over offerings next to the shop.
“How is it?” He furrowed his brows asking.
In the city center like this, there are just too many.
“Describe your mother?” I asked because now in the shop, there were about two women wandering around, and I could feel them even downstairs. That’s why I don’t like taking off the bracelet. The person I was asking didn’t answer; he showed me a photo. I looked at it for a while, the woman seemed like a foreigner. “There’s no one.”
“What?”
“There’s no…your mother here.” I answered truthfully, then took a deep breath and put the bracelet back on, feeling relieved because my sensitivity was too strong, making me uncomfortable every time I sensed them.
“Are you sure?”
“Uh-huh, I looked.” I said, but then I remembered something because I had only glanced around without much focus. But now thinking about it, what if his mother didn’t want to be seen? I took off the bracelet again, closed my eyes – I don’t do this often because it’s very exhausting, and I’ve never needed to concentrate so hard to find a ghost, but since I promised to help, I couldn’t just do it superficially.
It seems that my intent to look for her has caused the spirits’ waves to fluctuate, and they started to notice. Several tried to approach, but I ignored them. I sensed two or three more, but none of them were his mother.
I opened my eyes and put the bracelet back on, took a deep breath to regain my composure, feeling slightly breathless while shaking my head.
“You look pale as hell, what did you do?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in curiosity.
“Nothing, really. No one is following you.” “Really?” He sighed.
“Hmm.” I answered with a nod, reaching for my glass of water to drink, feeling a bit drained after doing that.
“And what if she isn’t following me?”
“She might be following your father or be somewhere else. She could be anywhere, right?”
“Then we’d have to search every place she might go, but honestly, she can’t go to many places. Just with people or places she was attached to.” I said. Grandma Puangthong mentioned that the dead often stay with people, places, or whatever they were attached to when they were alive, and the most likely place would be where they died.
“Attached? Like places she liked to visit?”
“No, it’s like her home or where she used to live.”
“Home?”
“Hmm.”
“Ah.” He seemed to ponder for a moment before sighing, probably not wanting me to go to his house. Honestly, I didn’t want to go either, “Since we’ve come this far, you can help me a bit more, can’t you?”
“…”
“What does that silence mean?”
“Really, hmm…can I say no?”
“No.” He said. I sighed, having anticipated this. So, I nodded in agreement, “Are you free tomorrow?” He asked.
“No.”
“The day after tomorrow?”
“Class.”
“Saturday?”
“Should be possible.”
“Next Saturday, I’ll take you home.” “Uh…uh-huh.” I answered like that.
Before getting up from the table to return to the dorm, I stepped outside to find that the rain hadn’t stopped and showed no signs of stopping.
“How did you get here?” The cigarette vendor walked out of the shop, stopped beside me, and asked.
“Motorcycle.”
“Are you going to ride back in the rain?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to go back with me?”
“…”
“As a thank you for helping me.”
“And my motorcycle?”
“Leave it here. It won’t disappear.”
“…”
“Up to you then.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll wait for the rain to stop.”
“Okay.” He shrugged indifferently before walking away from the shop area. I went back inside, ordered another drink, and continued working on my computer. Before I knew it, it was nearly midnight. Luckily, this branch was open 24 hours, the whole place and around it was quiet. I sat on the second floor, looking down at the street.
Since the rain had stopped, I decided to head back. I walked down to my own motorcycle and rode back to the dorm at about forty kilometers per hour. North always complained that I ride too slowly, which is true, because I don’t see the need to go fast. If I’m in a hurry, I just leave the dorm earlier than usual. But North, he rides very fast, he claims to have been a biker in his youth. Even though he says it jokingly, it’s quite believable, North once took Phatcharamon for a wheelie. Phatcharamon is the name of my own motorcycle, a black Scoopy i, and Phatcharamon is an auspicious name for a woman born on Monday, because I, Dao, was born on a Monday. I haven’t fully paid it off yet, paying just a little each month because I use the money for Mr. Jeon and buying collectibles.
Thinking about Mr. Jeon makes me miss him; papa doesn’t have time to bring Mr. Jeon to see me.
“Let’s go, Phatch.” I said, gently stroking Phatcharamon’s head before starting the bike and slowly riding out to enjoy the night view of Chiang Mai. Actually, I’m not from here. I’m from Tak, don’t ask who, don’t play the same kind of prank as North. No.
It took a while to get to the room, unpack, and organize my things before taking a shower to prepare for rest. Phii Cream in the bathroom has become much calmer after we talked about Korean artists. If I have time, I’ll go to the Chinese temple to offer incense for Phii Cream so she can be a full-fledged fan, but I’m not really free at the moment.
From initially not being much of a fan, I had to follow information to tell Phii
Cream. Lately, I’ve even been forced to memorize fan chants. Whatever, it’s fun, if I can get tickets in time, I’ll go to next year’s concert. As I’ve said, I’ve been to many concerts, not just Korean artists. I think live music from artists is the best thing. So, I go even if sometimes it risks my eardrums bursting.
Phii Eng and Phii Prao still commit suicide every night as usual, but Phii Donat has left my room. It’s good because I was really annoyed by the sound of scratching nails. Honestly, about contacting spirits, Grandma Puangthong is very worried because it’s something that shouldn’t be done. If they have ill intentions, they can harm us easily because we consent to contact them, but I’ve seen that the spirits in my room don’t have any malicious intent.
Papa complains that I don’t take good care of myself, which might be true, I don’t know. I don’t care. I showered and prepared for bed, receiving a notification from LINE that someone had added me again. I checked it and was taken aback by the message I saw.
☁:Two more months
☁: I’ll be back in Thailand.
☁: Don’t block me.
☁: Even if you block, I’ll just make a new account.
No profile picture, but I knew who it was from the Line name; the message made my heart sink.
What does it mean that in two months you’ll be back…
But I didn’t reply to his message, blocked him again. He can make as many new accounts as he wants, I’ll keep blocking them. It’s easier to block than to keep making new Line accounts.
‘Michael, are you okay?’
“Okay.”
I know I’m not okay, this is the third Line account already.
“Uh-huh.”
‘Why does he do this, why does he come back, why does he try to contact me again?’
“Exactly.”
‘Are you going to smoke again? You’ll get hooked again.’
“I won’t get hooked, I’ve said I don’t like the smell of cigarettes.”
‘But Michael you said this smell is good.’
“Uh-huh, this smell is good, I don’t know, maybe it’s foreign cigarettes, and they’re expensive too.” I said with a mocking smile.
‘Michael…’
“I don’t know if he’ll really come back. It’s only two more months. What should
I do? Should I apply for a scholarship to get away?”
‘Yeah, run far away from him.’
“Uh-huh.”
I can’t deny that my heart doesn’t beat fast because of him; it’s beating hard just thinking about his face and voice. I’ve told myself a million times to forget, but I can’t. Emma knows this well but doesn’t say it because I’ve promised not to go back. Promising Emma is not different from promising myself because Emma is part of my thoughts.
I thought I was getting better.
Until he came back.
Everything got messed up.
I lit up a cigarette after not smoking for several days. I didn’t want to get hooked again; I thought quitting for so long was a good sign, but here I am, needing it again. And this time, it’s an expensive foreign cigarette.
I walked out to the balcony and looked up at the moon. I blew out gray smoke to obscure its soft light, averting my gaze to look at something else.
I hate the moon because I once thought of him as my moon.
He used to be warm like the morning sun, soothing like R&B on a rainy day, sweet like caramel macchiato.
It’s funny…how much I used to love him.
Loved him to the point of blindness.
I exhaled smoke, drawing in the faint sweet scent again until the cigarette was finished, fearing I might be getting addicted because it seems like I already am, and I don’t like that at all. Whether it’s beer or cigarettes, it’s evidence that I still miss him, which is why I need those things.
I snuffed out the red glow of the cigarette, glancing into the darkness ahead. It’s good that the rain has stopped; otherwise, I would have sunk even deeper.
Maybe I can sleep now.
I told myself that before going back inside to flop down on the bed, tossing and turning for a long time without being able to sleep, so I got up to work until morning. The morning was spent napping after working all night. In the afternoon, after waking up, I left the room to do something else.
I got another tattoo after planning it for a while, a white hawk representing Dad. It took quite some time, but I got it done in one go. Now, the space on my arm is filled up even more.
Looking at my tattoo through the shop’s mirror, when asked if I liked it, I had to say yes, and importantly, I wanted to get more tattoos. It’s like getting more than you bargained for. I’ll choose the next design later. I took Phatcharamon out of the tattoo shop and just rode around because I didn’t know where to go. Eventually, we ended up at the mall to watch a movie I didn’t like, sitting through ninety minutes of boredom, almost falling asleep several times but managed to stay until the end.
When passing by a hair salon, I decided right then to dye my hair, asking for a color not many people have. After a while, my hair was turned blue; looking at myself in the mirror, it felt a bit strange but not bad. I’ve never had blue hair in my life. I paid and took Phatcharamon back to the dorm since it was getting late. ‘Why did you choose this color?’ Emma asked immediately when I got back to my room, ‘You always do this when you’re off track.’
“Really, I always do this when I’m off track?”
‘Not exactly, Michael, you do something unusual only when you can’t think of work, feel off track, or sometimes just want to do it, or maybe it’s not unusual for you anymore.’
“Maybe it’s so unusual it’s become normal, do you think I’m unusual?”
‘Unusual, normal people don’t sleep in closets.’
“Why not? The closet is dark and good.” I said, because in the morning, I slept in the closet due to the sunlight coming through the window. I didn’t have an eye mask, covering myself with a blanket made it hot, and other clothes slipped off with the slightest movement. So, to solve the problem, I decided to sleep in the closet. I like closets, I don’t know why. I just like them, can’t explain, but I like them.
‘Isn’t it hot?’
“It’s hot, so I leave it slightly open, otherwise, I might suffocate to death.” Today was the day I agreed with the cigarette vendor to go to his house. He commented a bit on my hair color, but I didn’t say much in response. It must be pretty noticeable, just as Emma said, people really do stare at me at university, and I don’t understand why; it’s just hair color that anyone can do with money, good scalp health, and hair quality.
He opened the door of the red sports car on the driver’s side. I stood there puzzled for a moment before opening the passenger side door and getting in, buckling my seatbelt. Soon after, the car took off quickly.
“Aren’t you too quiet?” He asked.
“Why?”
“Normally, people complain that I drive fast.”
“Uh-huh. You do drive fast.”
“Aren’t you scared?”
“No.” I answered, looking at the rapidly changing scenery outside. He was the fastest driver I’ve ever ridden with; I thought my dad drove fast, but the cigarette vendor…how should I describe him when I ride a motorcycle? I’ve cursed bad drivers in my mind before, and the cigarette vendor would be one of those terrible drivers I’d want to curse.
I wasn’t scared because my chance of dying was the same as his. If he dared to drive like this, it showed confidence in his driving skills, so there was nothing to be afraid of, or in another case, he wasn’t afraid to die, and neither was I.
In just a moment, we pulled into the driveway of a large house. I got out of the car once it stopped, following him into a modern-style luxurious house. I like this style of house; I’d like to design one myself someday. Should I find time to take some design classes?
“Direk, he’s here!” the man leading the way shouted. Soon, a tall man about his age, in casual clothes, looking to be in his early forties, came over. I knew his name was Direk, but I wasn’t sure if he was the father or someone else. He walked towards me, and I smiled and gave a respectful wai, he smiled back.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, do whatever you want.” The man named Direk responded.
“Let’s do it.” The cigarette vendor turned to me. I nodded slightly, took a deep breath, and removed my bracelet, doing what I did that day by focusing on Direk first, but no one was with him either. I shook my head gently, “No one with Direk either?”
“Call me properly, at least in front of others.” He grumbled in annoyance. I shook my head again for an answer. No one was with the person named Direk.
“Hey, you!” The cigarette seller got slapped on the head by someone named Direk, and he turned to me, annoyed.
“What should I do?”
“Try looking around.” I said before stepping out to search the area. Despite my best efforts, I didn’t find anyone who could be his mother, only other people. The cigarette seller followed me silently.
“Has your mother been here before?”
“Often.”
“What about her room?”
“Second floor.” He said before leading me to his mother’s bedroom. Inside, it was neat and clean as if someone was still living there, but I still found no one.
“No one here?”
“No.”
“Shit!!” He cursed, frustrated.
“Let’s check the whole house first.” I suggested. He took me around the house, but there was no sign of his mother. Looking out, I saw only a wandering spirit standing on the other side of the wall fence, unable to enter. When our eyes met, he looked back at me in surprise, probably puzzled that someone could perceive him.
He tried to climb over the wall to reach me but failed.
“Really not here? She loved this place, and came here all the time before.” “No.” I said.
“Sigh.”
“Is this where you lived together?”
“No. We usually live in California; this is my father’s house, but she came here often.”
“Oh, she passed away in California, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then she should be there.”
“…” He fell silent, his expression turning tense. “Let’s look here first.” “Okay.” I answered, and he took me to check other places. We searched the living room, the balcony, the rooftop, every room in the house, and finally, the backyard garden. “…”
“What? What do you think?”
I went silent when I tried to use all my senses to the fullest, believe me, if they’re still here. No matter how weak the waves or the spiritual energy are, I will definitely find them. I’ve searched until now and I’m completely exhausted.
And then,
I sat down on a bench in the garden, in front of me was a pond and a flower garden. I closed my eyes and tried to focus as much as possible, but I found no one, just the scent of memories here. I can’t explain it but it warms my heart so much.
“She liked this place.” “Huh?”
“Right, your mother?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“I can’t explain it, maybe it’s just a feeling, the warmth is still here.” I said with a tired voice. I’m so tired now, almost falling asleep, “Did you guys used to play here often?”
“Damn, you know a lot, don’t you?” He said, not too pleased, leaning against a nearby tree, “Just feelings remain, but no mother?”
“She’s not here.”
“Then what? Where else can I find her?”
“Where she passed away, there’s a possibility.”
“Do I have to go back to my hometown to search?”
“If you want my help, that’s probably the way.” I said before leaning back against the bench, my eyelids heavy, my throat dry, guessing that my face and lips must have gone pale by now.
“You seem to have used a lot of energy.” He said.
“Probably, I just need a little rest.”
“Want some water?”
“That’d be nice.” I answered before closing my eyes, feeling weak and still not controlling my senses well. I accidentally delved deep into the feelings of someone who just walked by in front of me.
What is this intense heartache?
I clutched my chest when I felt my heart about to break.
Why…is he so sad?
From the outside, he doesn’t seem to have much going on, but inside, he’s in so much pain it’s indescribable.
And in the garden where no one was, I cried because I felt the pain and heartbreak along with him.
“Ugh…ugh.” I started to sob slightly before wiping my tears hastily, but they just kept flowing. I couldn’t stop myself from crying because this is why I didn’t want to read others’ emotions; I’d feel the same way as them.
I covered my face with my hands and let out a sob. Has he ever cried before? It was like a wound being pressed down. He probably never cried, never shared it with anyone, so the wound just kept getting deeper.
I’m not someone who cries easily. Not at all. I don’t understand why I can’t stop crying, even though it’s not my own issue.
People who never cry are those whose wounds have never been healed, poor things,’ Emma’s voice echoed in my head.
“Ugh, ugh…ugh.”
Sigh, damn, it’s not good to cry just because I feel sad for someone else.
…
Arthit
I poured some water into a glass, intending to give it to the boy who tried to help find my mother, though I wasn’t sure how it went. He looked like he had used up a lot of energy; his face was so pale that I thought he might faint. It must not be easy, this effort to sense spirits.
“Can you trust this guy?” Direk walked over, leaning against the kitchen counter, and asked me.
“Yeah. He was the one who helped with Don’s case last time.”
“Hmm. If we don’t find her this time, what will you do?”
“Give up.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s come to this.”
“Must we go to California?” Direk asked.
“Probably, it’s the most likely place for her to be.” I said. Even though the house in California belonged to me, Direk, and his mother. I didn’t want to take him there, but there was no choice.
“Well, do what makes you feel at peace.” Direk sighed, then glanced out the back window. “Is he crying?”
“Huh?” I raised my eyebrows in confusion and looked over. Indeed, the boy was sitting on the same bench, head down as if he was crying. That made me even more puzzled. What was wrong with him all of a sudden?
“What did you do to him?”
“I didn’t do anything.” I said, before taking a glass of water in hand and walking over to him. The person sitting on the bench rubbed his eyes vigorously, then looked up, “Crying?”
“Yeah.” He answered, taking the glass of water.
“What’s with you suddenly crying?”
“You.”
“Huh?”
“Because of you.”
“What?”
“Sorry.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Sorry, I accidentally read your feelings.”
“…” I fell silent, then remembered he had told me before that he could read the feelings of others that aren’t expressed. That made me instantly angry, because I didn’t like anyone knowing how I really felt. Didn’t I tell him not to read them?
“Who told you to mess with my feelings?”
“Didn’t mean to.”
“…” I let out a sigh, not feeling too pleased, trying to calm down. After all, he did come to help, it wouldn’t be good to scold him too much, “And why are you crying?”
“I felt it too.” He said softly, “Why are you so sad?”
“Am I that sad?”
“Yeah. I don’t cry often, this is the first time in years.”
“Crying for someone else, how stupid are you?”
“…”
“Looks like you’re cursing me in your mind.” I said when I saw the look he gave me.
“Yeah, I am.”