Writing Piece #10 (Chimes of Yesterday)
"Each time the clock resets its chime, echoes of yesterday drift back through time." A phrase that’s easier to get fooled than to hurt yourself to accept the truth.
“Claire!” her uncle called.
For Claire, a day or two isn't a day to survive, but a day to end your time.
“Your mom is here, she’s waiting for you!” he added
She came down with a non-smiley face
“Oh, hi Claire. Long time no see, I missed you,” said her mom
They don’t want to let her, thinking she’s just trying to get away from confrontation.
“I still have a lot to do, I have online classes tomorrow,” she added
“Oh, sure. Do well,” her uncle replied
As she walked towards the stairs, she looked at Claire’s emotionless mask, now with shattered glass and a bedspread on the ground.
“I thought you were getting better?”
Now trying to throw the small pieces of the sacred glass on Claire as she brushed her fingers on her wrist, a wrist filled with the past broken pieces of her glass, her mother’s glass. She doesn’t know what to say, saying she’s getting better would be like trying to deceive her face to face. But if she said she’s getting bad, she’d hate the consequences even more. In a household where dependency is like asking for help by drowning in a 4ft pool, she prefers to not swim anyway. But now asking those questions is like drowning in an unknown deepness of an unknown body of water asking for help to breathe but not to live.
“This is nothing” she replied and pulled her wrist
she heard her mother start talking again. Telling Claire’s truth to her mother is like creating a trap for herself; and now a trap is a trap where no one can save her anymore. Not even her strongest soldier, and fooling around is much worse than making your own path to death.
Days passed and her mother chose to stay there for a while. She felt like a puppy who got away from its owner but got found anyway; in a way she couldn’t get away.
“Oh, why are you here mom?”
“I just want to tell you something, but I really need you to be open minded”
She already knew what it was about, like she was listening to a hum of a music she knows better than anyone. But it’s not an arty-music, it’s a loud danger noise, like an alarm of bad things getting foreshadowed.
“I’ll bring you to where I live. I have to look after you.” she revealed.
It always happens. She just wants to show others that she was never a bad mother.
“When will we leave?” she replied
It’s like doors continuously opening and once you enter the new door other doors are locked.
“Later, so pack your things”
Claire’s mind has been a flowing river for hours, and it ran like it was in a marathon. She checked the time and realized that she only had a few hours to pack her things.
She put everything she needs, clothes, meds, everything; those things were as light as an ant but burdens her as if she brings the whole land. As she got to clean her cabinets, she saw a watch. A gold watch with red plates. She thought she had moved on, she thought it wont hurt anymore, and now she sees herself in a form her mother broke her. Her lights finally flickered as she tried to be the lighthouse everyone wanted her to be, a symbolic source of hope; but her fire was never made for a never ending light, she’s tired, fragile, afraid.
As she was breaking down, she felt like she’s already blacking out. Then there’s someone knocking. She didn't bother in that case, until she heard a familiar voice, a voice she longed for.
Her ears widen, knees get even more weaker.
“Happy birthday dear I have something for you, I know that you won’t appreciate this that much right now, but I hope you find the purpose of it soon.”
As soon as she brought out a red box, Claire couldn’t handle it anymore. Does she feel guilt? Sorrow? She doesn't know. It’s like the sky and the ground chose to collide crushing her in.
“Wow! A watch! This looks expensive, la”
“It was, but it’s for you so it would be fine.”
“Red plates? How did you know that I love red lola?”
Suddenly Claire came back to her present self, and it felt like losing her mind. In a flash she saw her teenage self come inside again, angrily slamming the door this time.
“Claire! Watch your voice!”
“Why wouldn’t you just let me do what I want? You gave me a gift and you expect me to do what you want me to do with that gift?”
“I gave that to you for a reason! How do you expect me to react after seeing my gift to you in the jewelry pawn shop right after seeing you gambling?”
Claire was discombobulated, until she remembered everything. EVERY. SINGLE. THING. The good and the bad she has done.
After that incident, Claire was found shaking after collapsing on the floor.
“Am I the reason lola died?”
The first phrase she said after waking up.
“She died after she scolded me, she had a heart attack because of me”
It’s hard to agree but it’s harder to disagree. Does making her feel bad change anything? For Claire, her lola was her strongest soldier. The only person to stand up for her. The only person who’ll choose her in the midst of chaos; and disagreeing would make her feel bad, but it was the truth.
The night they’re supposed to leave, she misses her lola even harder. But probably coming after her would give everyone the choice of convenience rather than pity. She didn’t leave a note, or something that would make a scene after what she had done. How did they see her? Hanging in the same room she thought she killed her lola, smiling.
