August | 2013 | Real Fantasy

The Devil’s Toy

I should have been there. I should have stayed with him. But it’s too late now. The horrible realization dawned on her as she tried to keep her tears at bay. From the corner of her eye, she noticed her lover giving her not-so-subtle glances from time to time. And in his eyes she saw something – was it sympathy? Sorrow? Grief? … Happiness? In all honesty, she did not care and was thankful when the car finally stopped, signalling that they have reached their destination.

She stared at the compact, worn-out building that was to be her home for only-god-knows when. The building was worn-out, yes: chips of paint falling off from every corner, windows that looked almost copper from her view, and a dirty sidewalk filled with litter. I can’t even imagine what the inside would look like. But in reality, the apartment was not that horrid; dirty and ragged yes, but nothing to suggest that the owner was reckless or irresponsible.

“Thank you again for letting me stay with you Joe.”

“No problem, Jene. You know I’d do it even if your apartment was still …” he stopped short as he saw the look of sadness in her eyes. “I… I’ll get your other bags. Go on ahead. Apartment 317.” He smiled to her, trying to look reassuring.

Heaving a heavy sigh, she picked up her bag and walked in. Apartment 317. She repeated mentally, careful not to open the wrong door. After her tiresome walk up several flights of stairs – a seemingly endless three-floor climb – she finally found the apartment. It was neatly organized, but was too small for her liking. This is a one-person apartment! I can never live here with Daniel. She felt a small sting in her heart as she was reminded of her son and almost broke down right there. Her heart rate increasing as she fought the recurring flashback that plagued her mind. No! Not now. She was on her knees now, gasping for air. She was barely aware of hands rapping around her, telling her to calm down and that everything is alright. But the damage was done; and she could do nothing as the unwanted memory resurfaced.

“Daniel, I told you to bring an umbrella!” the mother figure said as she rapped more blankets around her ill son. She would have to stay home for the day and miss another day at work. Sigh. If only this boy would not get sick so often.

“It’s okay mom. You don’t have to miss work again you know,” he replied as if reading her mind, “I can take care of myself. There’s frozen pizza in the fridge and I can pass the time with t.v. or something.” He said, almost joyously.

His mother thought about it. There was no doubt in her mind that he can live on his own for a while. And besides, she practically baby-proofed the house already: no loose wires, sharp edges, and blocked ‘adult’ television shows. Woof.

“Okay fine. You win.”

“Yes!” was his satisfied reply.

“I’ll be back by 3 to pick up some stuff. Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.” She said lightly.

“Me? Burn the house down? I am insulted mother! I would never do such a horrid thing,” he replied with mock hurt on his face. His mother chuckled at his antics and left to leave the house. “Unless you leave me with that douche bag you call boyfriend, that wouldn’t be a problem.” He grumbled right before the front door closed and loud enough for his mother to hear.

She sighed and wondered if her lover and son would ever get along. Not in this lifetime. She thought grudgingly, remembering their last meeting. Joe was so insistent about us moving with him in his apartment, but Daniel would never allow it. “I’m never gonna let my mother or me stay with a psycho like you!” was his last reply. Another sigh.

At least that was over with. But in all honesty, she could not agree more with her son. Joe was being too touchy about this. And she was still not sure if she was ready to have another love affair. Besides, there ain’t no way I’m living with a psycho like that. She said childishly.

Before she knew it, it was 3 o’clock and she headed home. While on the taxi ride there, she heard sirens blearing and wondered where they were headed. Fires rarely happen in this neighbourhood. But I guess there’s a first time for everything. She thought bitterly.

As the taxi reached closer and closer to her apartment, the sirens were becoming louder and louder. The fire must be on our street. She thought. Desperately hoping her son was alright..

“Thank you for the tea,” she said while her hands desperately tried to stop shaking.

“Sure,” he smiled. “I’m so glad you’re finally living here. Don’t worry, I’m very much capable to support us both,” he smiled even wider this time as if nothing was wrong.

She stared at his face for a second longer, debating how trustworthy he can be, before looking away. He invited you to live with him when you had nothing. Be thankful. A gentle voice in her head said. While the other was anger-fuelled: Listen to your gut dammit. This guy is bad news! But before her internal debate could get out of hand, she excused herself from the table and left for her ‘room.’

She sat there, staring at nothing with a blank gaze towards the wall. To the untrained eye she looks as if she simply zoned out, but that is not the case. If one look closer, you would notice her breathing is quick and ragged, her hands slightly shaking, and small tears forming at the corner of her eyes. Another memory.

Her son’s blackened body being carried out of the still burning building. The medic desperately trying to make him breathe. The heavy conclusion that he is dead. Her desperate screams for her son to wake up. Firemen dragging the hysterical mother towards a medic. And finally sweet nothingness. She was agitated and delirious for days after that. But when she was finally sober, she learned that the fire was caused by an outlet with loose screws. She pleaded that there was nothing out of order in that house, but the firemen simply reassured her with an “accidents happen – deal with it” line.

Outlet with loose screws. Tch. Sounds more of sabotage to me. The anger-fuelled voice in her head said. Just then the door opened and Joe entered with two cups on a tray.

“Want some coffee?” he said as he sat down beside her. They stayed like that in an uncomfortable silence until Jene finally spoke.

“Do you mind leaving for a while? I would really like to be alone right now,” she said as politely as she could manage.

“Oh sure,” he said. “But before you leave tomorrow, do you mind doing the laundry and ironing? I mean, you are staying in MY apartment after all. Thanks.” Then he left, slightly banging the door.

She stared at the door for a few more moments; comprehension, realization, and finally accusation clear in her eyes. Was this truly an accident?