You and I

1st August 2013

I’ve been told to take up journaling. So here I am, staring at this stupid notebook. Helps me process my thoughts or whatever. Anyway, to get to the gist of it, we look perfectly ordinary on the outside. My family and I, I mean. But… inside there are so many cracks, I feel like we’re one touch away from collapsing into ourselves. Everything’s such a hodgepodge. Part of me thinks I’ll just figure it out as I go through life. The other side of me thinks continuing like this will only make even more people think I’m weird. Ugh. This is so stupid. I’m talking to a piece of paper. Bye.

1st August 2013

Well, hello. You alright there, sweetie? Don’t think I’m a weirdo, please, but I found this when you left it behind. Found your monologue. Thought I’d help out. Want to talk to me?

2nd August 2013

Whoa. Who are you? I guess it can’t hurt. To unleash my thoughts to someone, I mean. I mean, I’m just thinking about how to explain all of this and it sounds so… stupid. I feel like I’m one of those bratty rich girls complaining about her inconsequential problems.

4th August 2013

How about we not exchange contact information, huh? It's not important now. Anyway. Hun, no problem is big or small. If it’s bothering you this much, then something is definitely itching your heart. And don’t worry. I’m not going to say “boy problems?” I’m not a dumb therapist sitting in a Manhattan office or one of those teachers who try to vibe with their pupils.

4th August 2013

:) You see You'll need some background first. My family is… Well, sometimes I doubt my relationship with them. There are days I’m just filled to the brim with hurt and want to explode and scream it all out to everyone. But then I chide myself. You know why? Because people will think I’m a weirdo. They’ll want to stay away from me and the queer relationship I have with my parents. So each and every day I store each new hurt deep in my heart. But you know what really messes with me? Between each hurt is a layer of love. They’ve screamed at me. They’ve hit me. They’ve threatened to hit me. But they’ve also supported me. They’ve humoured me whenever I brought friends over. They’ve talked things out with me. I feel like a jigsaw puzzle scrambled up. And… I think there’s a missing piece. One tiny piece hiding in the corner of the box. In darkness.

5th August 2013

Look, I’m not some sort of ascetic to come up with awesome, sagely advice that changes how you see the world or something. I can’t produce rainbows and sunshine and make everything better. But let me tell you something. I’ve been through stuff, too. A family is not a jigsaw puzzle that fits together neatly. It’s more like a garden. Different plants grow together and adapt to living with each other. Sometimes weeds take over. Sometimes an invasive species is brought in. But if you look at a garden, are the flaws the first thing you notice? No, it’s the rainbow or colour and the harmony. The richness of the greenery. I’m not saying a family must hide their differences. What I’m saying is that if you truly love each other, that’s all that’ll matter in the end. I’m not saying that your emotions and feelings are wrong, either. I, too, felt just as hurt and wronged as you did on some days. But I know I can’t live without my family, and I think, neither can you.

6th August 2013

That’s… Hm. That’s not bad, Ms. Not a Therapist. You said you went through stuff. Care to share?

10th August 2013

Ah, that’s a thing in the past. All I’ll say is that yes, I went through something I think you’ll understand, and I discovered how much I love my people just a little bit too late. I don’t want you to make the same mistake, honey. I guess this is how I pay them back.

11th August 2013

Oh. I’m sorry. I’m a bit at a loss for words, sorry. Feels wrong to continue or change the conversation now, doesn’t it? Wait, no. That came out wrong. I’m not blaming you. I’m not being passive aggressive. Just saying.

12th August 2013

:D Oh don’t worry. Happened years ago. Why don’t we take a little break and come back?

12th August 2013

You know, I appreciate you talking to me like this, whoever you are. Talking to my parents about deep things is… It’s just weird. It’s not our thing. And talking to my friends is also weird. We just… laugh and walk around and talk about random things, but going deeper just makes us sappy and we don’t do sappy. Over the years, I’ve hid so many things in my heart. I’ve hid them so deep that I’ve almost lost access to them myself. But talking to an utter stranger helps somehow. Adding a face to a voice just makes everything heavier for some reason. You know?

13th August 2013

Oh I know. I’m glad you find my presence comforting.

14th August 2013

Thanks. But okay, enough trauma dumping. I’ve tired out even myself. Want to hear a weird fact? Did you know male clownfish can turn into females if their female partner dies? I saw a meme where they said maybe that’s why Nemo’s dad wanted to find him so bad. Mm, too weird?

15th August 2013

Ha! Really? Okay, I accept the challenge. Did you know? The QWERTY keyboard layout came to be because back then, typewriters would jam if two keys next to each other were pressed quickly, so common letter pairs were set far apart.

15th August 2013

Wow! See this is what I like. I never realised how much I missed people I can share weird facts with. Funny how you can miss something you’ve never experienced, right?

***

The phone call rang eagerly. One could almost imagine the cellphone bouncing around in its place on the sofa. As usual, no one picked it up. Well, there was only one person who could. And there she sat, determinedly ignoring the call. There she sat, pouring all of her concentration into her drawing. The phone call never slipped through the funnel of her mind.

There was a photo there. Of a seemingly happy family. But these photos… they know just how to guide your mind towards a specific impression. It sat there, a reminder of hurt. But it would also hurt to discard it. It would hurt to smash the frame into splinters. And so it sat there day after day, neither here nor there.

***

The SUV glided across the road, a scene straight out of an advertisement. If one let their mind wander far enough, they just might be able to hear stuff like “engineered for those who dare”, “feel the difference”, and so on. Laughter arose in the sky from the open windows of the car. An amiable father, tiredness creeping up at his edges, almost invisibly. A doting mother, exasperation growing across her like weeds while her children continued their antics. And the children of course. Young adults, really. They were at the lovely turn of life where just around the corner were maturity, at last, dates, snob friends, cliques. Well, ‘lovely’ was one way to put it.

And so the car zoomed ahead. Twisting and turning in the hills, the passengers marvelling at the glorious view. Viridian-green trees shot into the sky. Sepia-brown mud dotted the ground. Lemon-yellow birds hopped from tree to tree, twirling merrily. The sky enveloped them, in blazing hues of pink, orange, and blue.

That was precisely when disaster reached down and flicked its haggard fingers at the car. Distressing noises arose. The car hit the lorry fast. The lorry that was going the wrong way. The SUV shot away and lay there, quivering as well as a hunk of metal could quiver. Darkness wrapped its blindfolds across the passengers, devouring them.

***

Alia strutted ahead in her lovely heels. Just another day. Heading into boring work. She swore if her old “funny” coworker made another joke about these young kids—which, of course, meant Alia—she’d probably rip someone’s resume.

This particular area of town had an agglomeration of jewellery stores. “Latest collections!”, “your ultimate destination!”, “premium designs!”, the signs screamed. Alia chuckled miserably. That store right over there was the last trip to the outside world her family had made. Right before… Before everything blew to dust. Her insides ached. She forced herself to look away and strode on.

Wait. Huh. This was new. Alia squinted at the funky-looking store. “Ria’s Time Traversals”, it said. Alia blinked. Curious, she stepped inside, her arrival producing a little tinkle sound at the door. The shop was decorated in pastel shades of purple, pink, and blue. The waiting room had random baby pink sofas scattered around. Clearly interior designing wasn’t the main priority.

“Ya want something?” said the lady at the counter.

“What does this place do?” asked Alia.

The lady blinked. “It… does exactly what you think it does. We let customers time travel.”

Alia chuckled awkwardly.

“What’s funny?”

“You’re serious?”

“Lady, I don’t have the time to joke. Tell me what you want, or I’ll escort you out.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. So… time travelling? Like, I can visit people who’ve died or something?”

“That’s what you want to do? Then, yeah.”

“What about visiting my future self?”

“We don’t do the future. Too risky and messy. The past is tricky enough as it is. Look, lady, there are people waiting. Hurry up.”

“Fine. Can I visit people from, say, ten years ago? Twenty?”

“Can’t do more than seventeen, dear.”

“Why not?”

“Because this company didn’t exist twenty years ago. If you time travel back twenty years, you’d end up appearing out of nowhere in the shop that was here before us, and we can’t have that happening, can we? Would really scare people.”

“Oh, okay. Ten years, then.”

“Fantastic. I have some preliminary questions to ask you before we proceed. Firstly, what is the purpose of your time travel?”

“Do I need one? I want to go because… I don’t know… just curious.”

“Look. Time travelling is super complicated and messy. There’s a lot of stuff we don’t get paid enough to tell you about, but the point is, time travelling has a lot to do with infinite loops, time branches, and more. It’s risky. We cannot let people travel for no reason. Come back to us when you have a valid reason and we’ll consider it. Thanks.”

***

Alia couldn’t stop thinking about that shop. When she showered, she wondered about it. When she ate, she fantasised about what she could do with that power. “It’s a stupid scam,” people told her. “Why would you even believe it?” But Alia believed. Because deep down, she had one regret from the past. And if she had the opportunity to fix things, God only knew what lengths she would go to.

She could envision that day perfectly, years later. The silvery road stretching before them, inviting them with its gravel arms outstretched. The sudden darkness. The bright flashing lights of the hospital that seared through her skull. The black hole that swallowed her whole when she found out. The black hole that she never really escaped. All that regret. Her heart sank in it like it was quicksand.

“Why was I so… so stupid?” she whispered to herself. To the walls. To the bed. To anything that would listen. She should have listened. She should have listened to that notebook. To her anonymous guardian angel. She should have picked up the phone. She should have done this, done that… She sighed.

***

The door to Ria’s Time Traversals tinkled.

“Hi. It’s me again.” Alia smiled.

The lady at the counter looked up.

***

Alia woke up to find herself in that same shop. Hm. It looked much cleaner. The walls didn’t have those cracks. And the counter lady was different.

“From the future, are ya?” asked the lady.

“I’m in the past? It worked?”

“As sure as the sky is blue.”

Alia looked around a bit, letting the revelation sink in.

“Where are you going?”

Alia smiled. “To fix things.” She began to walk off.

“That’s cute, but we need to track our customers to make sure they don’t get up to… untoward activities. Company policy.”

“Oh.” A needle of embarrassment poked her bubble. Alia gave the lady her address and headed on her way.

***

Alia stepped inside the library. She’d never felt so nostalgic. The crisp oakwood floors that never creaked. The towering shelves. The senile librarian. The dozens of university students. Alia ignored all of them. There was one person she was looking for.

Aha. There. A girl. Looking at her almost jarred Alia. It felt so unreal. But it was. “As sure as the sky is blue.” Alia hid behind a shelf. And waited. And watched. She watched as the young girl clutched her head in her hands. She watched as the girl took a pen and wrote, her distress and annoyance splashed across her face like paint on a canvas. And she left. Forgetting her notebook behind. The notebook.

“Hey, can I get a pen please?” Alia grabbed one from the librarian without waiting and ran over to the notebook after the girl left. Sorting her thoughts carefully, she brought the tiny nib to the paper and wrote.

1st August 2013

Well, hello. You alright there, sweetie? Don’t think I’m a weirdo, please, but I found this when you left it behind. Found your monologue. Thought I’d help out. Want to talk to me?

What she said, or would say, was right. “I guess this is how I pay them back.” Young Alia wouldn’t make the same mistakes. She hoped so.

“Who are you?”, young Alia had asked. Or would ask. “I am you and you are me”, Alia whispered into the silence of the library. “And we have each other.”