[Phew,] a word that had become nearly constant in Morph's thoughts. He glanced at the setting sun from time to time, not for its beauty, but because it was the most striking sight on his journey home.
[An independent assignment, huh?] Morph got off lightly with his final obstacle, great luck. Perhaps for once, some deity of fortune smiled upon his atheist ass. The conundrum he faced now was his homework, which required him to journal his vacation activities. Like, why? Indeed, it was one of those tropes where he would learn moral lessons while reflecting on his life through his very own writings. He pondered how that would ever this "May as well as change your life" would happen as his teacher had suggested.
Satoshi was a commendable teacher; but also tried to maintain professional boundaries, perhaps because he found it exhausting or for other reasons. Consequently, he tended to overlook the personal issues of his students to a certain extent. Just as he overlooked Morph's bleeding nose without asking any questions, perhaps he understood to some extent who was responsible for it. However, he wasn't indifferent in every instance; he was most dependable in times of escalated or urgent situations, especially related to his class or students. His authority in his domain was unparalleled, deterring anyone sane from challenging him. Even Morph thought of this as a very cool aspect in him other than his usual aloofness.
But this shouldn't be the only thing on his mind, now, should it? He's quite lucky today, after all it’s better to get the crap beaten out of him by Henni than be tortured by her gorilla of a boyfriend. Geita's absence today was also partly due to Satoshi, Geita and Satoshi simply don't sit well together. For various reasons, Geita always tries to remain cautious around Satoshi. A blessing in disguise indeed.
[I should leave this town...] Morph contemplated, feeling as though he had committed a serious crime. He was, of course, overreacting, yet he was as cautious as one could be. If Geita were to somehow learn of what had transpired within two days he was absent from Henni... No, Henni wouldn't tell that he knew, but the other girls? They would certainly snitch to Geita for sure. And once he finds out... only God knows what would happen.
Good thing he wasn't going to stay back home for these vacations. Thankfully.
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"I'm home," Morph announced as he entered, taking off his shoes.
The day's events had left him exhausted, and somewhat thirsty. [Let's grab something to drink first...] he thought, heading towards the kitchen. Along the way, he could hear his mom's voice on the phone, growing clearer as he approached.
"I see," Susan said into the phone, wedged between her shoulder and ear as she peeled vegetables. Noticing Morph, she glanced over and offered a small smile before refocusing on her call and the task at hand. Unperturbed, Morph headed straight for the refrigerator, searching for something fancy to drink. Finding nothing, he settled for water.
"Not really, we didn't really have much of a plan to begin with." she said, continuing after a pause "Of course Mom, we can. It's going to be vacations soon for the kids, so I quite like that suggestion."
Morph listened to her conversation as he made his way through the water bottle. She was likely discussing vacation plans, which was as well as Morph's master plan to escape the town, so he couldn't resist chiming in on their conversation subconsciously.
"umhm, okay."
[Half in one breath—nice,] he looked at the bottle with quite the satisfaction, putting it away into the refrigerator.
"Morph, you should fill it before putting it back, and how many times must I tell you not to drink directly from the bottle? Glasses are there for a reason," she said, making him flinch. Morph turned slowly to see Susan glaring at him with that one annoyed look. She gestured towards the tap with the knife in her hand, looking very threatening so he lightly nodded.
Susan's gaze followed him until he reached the tap, at which point she sighed and continued her phone call.
"Huh? No, just Morph. Yeah," she said. "Kids these days are all about shortcuts, especially ours truly," she chuckled.
[...] Like any other child, Morph felt awkward in this situation; being talked about in his presence made his legs tense up. He Wished to escape this embarrassment, but the sluggishly flowing water was not helping the situation at all, forcing him to stay longer.
"Okay then, see you then," she said as the conversation neared its end. "Won't forget, bye," she sighed shortly after hanging up. Meanwhile, Morph completed refilling the bottle and made his way back to the refrigerator to put it where it belonged.
"It looks like these vacations will be delayed a bit," she murmured.
"Why?!" exclaimed Morph upon hearing the startling news making Susan flinch.
"Wow, that was quite the excitement," she said, regaining her composure. "But what got you so worked up, hun? That was like the least expected reaction coming from you, haven't you always disliked visiting grandpa's?" she inquired hinting curiosity.
"Oh, it's nothing..." Morph adjusted his tone, "just..." He took a long pause. Susan looked at his face, giving a slight nod as the pause extended, signaling him to continue talking, to which he could only return a hum for another while.
"...Home," he mumbled, quickly formulating an idea. "It's about homework—yeah, the homework. It's really challenging and requires collecting a lot of data, which should be collected while travelling to many destinations," he explained his concept hastily.
"Oh," Susan exclaimed, a hint of surprise in her voice as if she had heard something unexpected, "Trying to finish homework early? Are we being an early bird this time?" She chuckled. "Perhaps I should thank Mr. Satoshi for that," she mused, glancing at his face for a reaction.
Hearing this, Morph only grew more awkward, offering an awkward smile as he his hand together behind his back as if to affirm her statement.
"Homework that requires a lot of traveling sounds quite adventurous," she mused. Interrupting her thoughts, Morph chimed in again, "Mom, Grandpa's," nudging her to steer the conversation back to the original topic they were discussing.
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"Ah, my apologies, darling. I got a little sidetracked there. At my age, it's common to be swept up in nostalgia, especially when watching one's children grow," she said with a gentle smile. "And about visiting your grandparents, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but we won't be able to, at least not until the mid-break. It seems your grandparents have made other plans this time; they're heading off on a little vacation of their own down south," she explained.
[Fuck, I knew things were going too well] Morph's thoughts grew more perplexing as time passed, gradually aligning with the confusion evident in his facial expressions.
"Seems like you're really disappointed; that homework must be very important to you," Susan said as she noted Morph's expressions. "Don't worry too much, sweetheart. I'm sure you'll do just fine, am sure there are bound to be some other way to go about your homework, you'll figure something out," she tried to reassure him, which of course did not help.
[I've to find another way!] He was well aware that he had to do something, even to the point of begging if it meant escaping this forsaken town.
"Can we go somewhere else then? Like the beach or mountains or trekking or anything, something far away from this town? Please Mom, I need it." Morph mumbled quickly, his voice tense as if he were pleading.
Susan remained silent, her gaze locked on Morph, her expression unreadable, betraying no emotion. It seemed she was lost in thought, mulling over Morph's words. After a while, she broke the silence with a long sigh.
"Morph, dear, I understand the importance you place on your homework... considering your last vacations, and the many before," she nodded, her tone laced with sarcasm, "But as you well know, we're not eager to go anywhere but your grandpa's this vacation, as we all agreed. So no, we're not going to the beach, trekking, or the mountains. I hope that's clear," she stated.
Morph lingered in his gaze as she met it squarely. Her expression conveyed a clear message; it was the end of hope, a silent declaration that there would be no more debates on the subject. Without wasting another moment, he turned and left for his room, his expression etched with irritation and disbelief.
[What does she know...] To Morph, Susan's words were sharp and to the point. However, what she didn't grasp or completely misunderstood was the why behind it all. And of course, Morph couldn't clarify that for her because he knew she couldn't care less. Even if he did, the consequences that would follow were not to be taken lightly and of course he knew that as well. But what If he told her about his situation? what would she do? No, what could she possibly do, what had she ever done? Even if he shared the burden that he had been carrying silently all these years, the pain he endured in solitude, the tears he stifled with a pillow for fear of being overheard. Sympathy. Morph despised it.
It came as no surprise to him that he found himself on that cliff that day; upon reflection, it wasn't an impulsive act, but rather the culmination of suppressed feelings. He was utterly overwhelmed by everything without anybody to rely on... He simply couldn't bear any more of this world, not alone.
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On the verge of tears, my mind unstable, I knew how to hold them back—a skill I had mastered, though not one I took pride in. It proved useful, as not a single tear fell for a long time after I returned to my room.
[I need to calm down,] a voice whispered from the depths of my mind. A smile unexpectedly graced my face as I entertained the thought that I was finally becoming crazy enough to be talking to myself, which, oddly enough, soothed me more than anticipated. I breathed, long, deep.
Leaning back against the wall, I felt much better, solace, the room was as quiet as it could be, and God I liked the way it was, I cherished it. Maybe the only thing in this house could comfort me.
giggle
It seemed absurd that the only thing in the house I was fond of was an inanimate object, or rather, an entire room. But it wasn't merely a room; it was a vessel for memories—joyful, sorrowful, unforgettable, and those so treasured that I yearn for them to recur, perhaps to bring some color back into my monochrome life.
Perhaps it was because I've been on an emotional rollercoaster these past few days, and this was the only moment that allowed me a breath of relief, but it wasn't long before a wave of nostalgia hit me. My mind wandered through the memories I had created in this room: idly gazing at the ceiling just when the sun was at its most ideal shade of yellow, reading comics and pretending to be its protagonist and villains, all those silly things that still made me cringe and there was Grandpa who always made me laugh with his silly jokes and gestures.
In recent days, I've felt his absence more profoundly than ever before. It's odd that he's the first one I fault for all the misfortunes in my life, simply because he left me alone in this harsh world, surrounded by this two-faced family. His absence is all the more felt, making me long for himself when I need someone to rely on.
I remember him as an incredibly kind yet amusingly quirky person, someone I could depend on in the worst situations—not that they seemed so dire back then, since I was just a kid. But I knew he would be there when I needed him most, dependable as ever, a real family.
He was the best grandpa; no, "He was, is, and will forever be the greatest grandpa from the dawn of time, eternally holding the title throughout its existence," was one of his favorite lines, repeated so often that it is now etched into my memory, yet it always managed to bring a smile to my face. Back then, my room served as a study. I vividly recall how he would sit in the same spot as me, engrossed in his work, while I would tiptoe into the room, attempting to startle him from behind and sillily enough, he would always play along. Despite being almost perpetually occupied, even in retirement, he invariably made time to play with me.
He was the person I treasured the most, the one with whom I created the best memories.
Closing my eyes, I still remembered him vividly till this day, even after 6 years after he left for somewhere far, far way, I still see him standing in front of me with his signature smile. So many memories. If I had to pick, it was the one memory that stood out distinctly, a simple yet impactful memory:
On a typical day, while Grandpa was busy working, I entered his room, as was my habit, pleading for him to play with me.
"Sonny, just give me a teeny tiny minute to put these in their place. Can't let the wind carry them too far away. These old bones aren't strong enough to chase after them now," as he always said.
"Don’t worry, Grandpa! I’ll catch them for you—I’m super-fast! Like swoosh!" Funnily enough, I would make car-driving gestures even though I said I'd run.
"Hehe, I'm aware of how fast our Morphy is; after all, Morphy skipped his lazy papa and took directly after his strong grandfather," he would say as his chest almost doubled in size, striking a bodybuilder pose.
"Yeah!" With that, I would dash towards him and wrap him in a tight hug, which he would reciprocate with the warmest and gentlest of embraces. "But Grandpa, I have a question," I said, looking up at him, only to be greeted by his beaming smile.
"Ask away, champ, what question does our little Morphy have? Grandpa can answer anything!" he exclaimed, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.
"Grandpa, why do you always keep the window open even though, the air makes the paper fly far away?" I asked innocently.
Taken aback by the unexpected question, Grandpa simply looked at me, dumbfounded. He gazed out the window, lost in thought.
He leaned back in his chair as he took off his spectacles, setting them aside. Finally saying, "Little Morph, this window is not just a window, you know."
"Not a window? Then what is it, grandpa?" I asked almost instantly.
"A connection. It's a connection to everything that is out there from an ant to a whale, a connection with every tree, a connection with every grain of soil out there. And the reason I don't close it is just that, I don't want to sever that connection. I fear isolating this world, little Morph," he said.
"Connection? What is that, Grandpa?" I asked, puzzled.
"Haha, little Morph, a connection is..." We talked on and on, with him satisfying my every curiosity, and I completely forgot about playing that day.
[Just where did he find all those cheesy yet perfect-for-plot lines.] I giggled by myself.
Now, looking back after my grandpa has passed away, I realize that window hasn't been opened as much as it used to be. The connection that my grandpa once explained to me, it seems I haven’t maintained it as well as he did.
__ End of The Chapter __