Moment of Birth (1)

I didn't know what happened. The last moment I knew was the high-pitched scream from mom and blood came from her thighs. I was eleven when that happened. This memory was definitive, clearer than the others. Probably, because of this memory wasn't a good one. The ugly memory always recalled itself. I thought I'd forget it in time. But my dream was the same each night.

I remembered the time when mom and dad was a good pair of pancake and maple syrup. Though, the age gaps between them were about ten years. But they fitted together, like a couple from the magazine cover. They were perfect, and many of their colleagues were happy with their marriage. I was born on 7th of August, during a drizzling morning. My birth was a bonus to complete their happiness together.

I lived with all the joy from the world. Everything was shiny, aromatic, and funny, just like a dreamland. Dad was a manager of grandpa's big company; he would usually come home at night. Mom was in her study to become a surgeon. She said that she would finish soon and become a fully pledged surgeon.

Me? It was the happiest time of my life (Since it won't be the same after that). Though my parents were busy, and the fact that I don't have any cousin sometimes would make me look pitiful. But I didn't feel lonely at all. I had awesome friends in my school. There were Clara and Liss, two housemaids who cooked many delicious foods! They also taught me to cook.

I often went to Mr. and Mrs. Dowle's house. Mom said that Mrs. Dowle was an old midwife looking for her retirement. She helped mom through my birth. Well, the only thing that matters to me was her baked almond pie and the knitted dolls she usually gave to me.

Grandpa was a regular visitor to the house. He would bring me dolls and other toys. He was so funny and loved to tell a joke, which mom disapproved. But I never met my grandpa from mom. Mom said I shouldn't meet them. Because of her parents weren't happy about their marriage. I was completely oblivious to her problem at that time.

Dad was a great person. He always looked tired, but tried to spend time with me as much as possible. He even called home in the afternoon to check my condition. I liked to surprise him with my cooking ability. With the aid of Clara and Liss, I could cook lunch or snack for dad. He said he loved my food. Well, he said that, but mom said I should be better at cooking.

Days passed like the fallen leaves outside my window. Mom and dad were still married. They were still the same parents that I had. However, their relationship was not as beautiful as what I saw through my young eyes.

Mom was busy being a new fully pledged surgeon, and at that time, she was three months pregnant. When I heard this wonderful news, I was expecting mom and dad would be like the old one. But they became even more distant to each other. No dinner like we used to be. We never watched a movie together anymore. The last time I remembered, it was a year ago. My life turned dull, and it depleted all of my joy. I was a doll, sitting in my room, watching everyone walking around the house like there was nothing wrong with this family.

Grandpa was sick, so I went to his house once a week. He would greet me in his wheelchair. Dad said grandpa was too weak to stand by himself. He was the same grandpa, though. He would tell me a story with coughs in every 5 minute. He couldn't eat my usual cooking since he was sick and required a special diet with tons of medication. I spent all of my weekends on his side. As the time goes by, Grandpa was too weak to even getting up from his bed. So I accompanied him in his bedroom.

It was distressing, watching your loved one slowly deteriorated and going closer to his end. That night, it was my first time experiencing the pain of losing. It was eight years old at that night, grandpa and I were alone in his bedroom. He wasn't sleeping, but he was so focused on the ceiling. He called my name. His voice was raspy. I immediately turned the TV off. As I knew, something bad would happen.

"Grandpa?" I asked, but I already knew, my fear was certain. Grandpa tried to hold my hand, but his hand was too weak. I reach his hand and watched him trying so hard not to close his eyes.

"You are my only… only grandchild. My only beloved granddaughter…" his voice was so weak. I could hear his heavy breathing. I started to panic.

"I'll call the housemaid."

"No." he grabbed my hand. "Andra, stay."

I wanted to get help, but I unwillingly obeyed his order and stayed with him. Even though the young me already understood the condition, I still felt the regret of my incapability of saving grandpa. I sat beside his bed. Grandpa's eyes were still focused on the ceiling.

"You're my beloved grandchild… the only one..." he kept muttering those words to me. I couldn't say a thing. My lips were neatly stitched.

"Andra…" Grandpa's voice became weaker, his palm sweating horribly. I couldn't hold my tears, knowing that the end of his road is near.

"Whatever happened later, don't cry. Don't cry. You'll be alone, but I want you to be strong…" grandpa smiled with all of his might, it was the last smile I'd ever get from him. "Promise me—"

He slowly closed his heavy eyes, then, his hand stopped sweating, but became cold. I wiped my tears, again and again. I hold my voice, as I was told not to cry. Grandpa was gone. It was the first realization of me. He was right. I'd be all alone. He was the last family that I had, and he left me alone in this world.

Grandpa's funeral was filled with people that I never saw. Some of them crying, some weren't. They came and expressed their deepest remorse to mom and dad, and then left, probably would never showing up again. I stood behind mom, watching her mourning over grandpa. Dad was heartbroken and cried at the funeral, but he left shortly because another work was waiting for him in the office.

Mom and I were the last in the funeral. Mom said, she mourned over grandpa, because he was the one who fully supported mom and dad marriage. Even mom's family refused to come to their wedding. She said Grandpa was the one who paid for her study because she ran away from her home after her high school graduation. Grandpa was the one who gave her a place to stay and treated her like his own daughter. It was also his suggestion to marry dad. Due to all the respect, mom agreed to marry dad.

The story struck me like lightning in the dawn. Did mom purposely tell me this? Or grieves made her tongue slipped? Either way, my joyful world slowly crumbled. All the time, I lived in the small world made by grandpa. He decorated the dark with beautiful lamps, he disguised the monster with fluffy fur. But it was a fake theater he produced.

"So, you don't love… dad?" I asked. She gave a mirthless smile. "I love him, the man in my life," she said with uncertainty. I wanted to ask, who the man of her life was, but I guessed it must be dad. We left the funeral with mom's car. Now that she was six months pregnant, she stayed at home with me. But she was busy. Always busy with her phone, her laptop, and my soon-to-be little sister. She would spend hours alone in her room, tenderly calling someone 'dear' and caressed her belly. I thought mom and dad weren't so intimate with each other again, but it seemed that they were still close. I could see mom's sweet face when she was on the phone. It lightens me a bit when I thought she called dad.

Liss had left our household. She would marry her fiancée soon. I gave her a proper goodbye by gifting her one of my favorite, Frog doll. It was sad since she was my friend in home. But she needed to go.

Clara was pregnant too. I noticed it when I found Clara in the toilet, trying to puke. I knew the symptoms of pregnancy when mom told me so. She usually puked, but nothing came out. When I asked her, she said it was nothing. Though, her belly was getting bigger, just like mom's belly.

My home became emptier, it was really quiet. The only voice that filled the air was mom's. But when dad came home, mom was dead silent. She didn't even call dad. They were like a robot who programmed to walk and pass each other, but no interaction happened. I was confused.

****

That night, I came out from my room because I heard strange voices from the downstairs. All lights were off, except the TV. There were two people on the sofa. I could tell the familiar voices of those people. They're caressing each other intimately. There were few weird voices came from the woman. My young brain was unable to decipher those voices, but they clearly shouldn't do it in the first place.

"Please, not now," the woman said. The man chuckled.

"Come on, there's nothing to worry about. We're on edge. Andra is the only reason we're still together," he said while keeping his pace at the woman's body.

"But I'm pregnant! How am I suppose to keep this baby?" she seemed to be frustrated. But yet, continue producing the same weird voices.

"Good. I've always wanted a child that I love."

My heart sank at the deepest point of a child's heart. I stood there, speechless. I've learned enough. I walked back to my room. I tried to brush this moment out of my head. Yet, the weird voices echoed at every corner of the house. Mom knew this, I guarantee it.

But why doesn't she get angry to dad? She should get mad at him. He was sitting there, with Clara, doing something weird. Why should I know this? I just wanted to see mom and dad staying together like before. But I found something terrible.

I couldn't sleep at all. Those weird voices hurt more than a toothache and the scary dentist. It was painful. I tried to cover my ears to no avail. Dad was screaming with joy, and then everything went silent. A single drop of tear began rolling down on my cheek, which I immediately wiped it out. No tear. Don't cry. Just like what grandpa said to me.

The next morning, dad drove me to school. He asked many things, admired my cooking, kissed my forehead, and gave me a warm smile. He acted like usual. As if, yesterday's entire night was just a nightmare for me. It was a nightmare, but I'm still living in it until now.

Each time I stepped my feet into the house, I turned myself into a walking doll. I didn't talk unless it was something important. I didn't even talk to Clara anymore. Her belly was getting bigger. In all honesty, I wanted to punch her stomach until it burst out. I hated her with every fiber of my body.

There're plenty of reasons why I wanted to run away from this place. This house was full of prostitutes and affairs. I wanted to, but I couldn't. I had a (really) small hope for my parents to get back together. Maybe because I had an awesome life in my childhood, or because I saw mom and dad as a happy couple when I was six or seven years old.

As the bitter relationship progressed, I grew tired of it. I also grew sick of school and my friends. I saw nothing interest me. I became a passive person, not only in my home but also in my. My friends were curious about me since I've changed drastically for just a year or less.

All of my grades had fallen like a stoned bird. Teacher and friends were worried about me. Funny, they whom I didn't know actually worried about my being. But someone who gave birth to me didn't even care. They were busy with their love, I felt like a leftover of the love they used to have (or pretended to have).

Mom's womb had gotten bigger, and it reached the peak of pregnancy. She was eight months pregnant. She had a hard time to move her body, so she just moved if needed. She would usually sit in the living room, where dad and Clara did something weird the night before. She called someone on the phone and talked for hours. I knew it wasn't dad for sure.

Sometimes, I asked dad to pick me to cinema or toy store. Well, he answered with tons of reason, and in the end, it was just a no. I tried to talk with mom and have a family time together without dad, maybe a couple of stroll in our garden, and her reaction was the worst. She did walk in the garden with me, but she was so rotten with her phone. She smiled like she never did before when she read a text from someone. Her smile is just different than with dad or me.

I had a night routine to sit on the staircase, watching dad and Clara cuddle each other. Dad was fond of kissing Clara. He kissed her entire body like a mad cow, breathing heavily. Clara was the one who enjoyed it the most. She cried in pleasure, something that mom never did. I did this nearly every night, but they didn't seem to notice me at all. They were too consumed by lust.

"How about Andra? She is your child," said Clara, she looked at her belly, "Do you think Andra know about this?"

"For fuck sake, of course, she's not. Can't you see, she's dumb!" dad laughed a bit, "Well, she'll be my ex-child."

"That's harsh… she loves you so much."

"She is a mistake," said dad. Again, my heart kept sinking to the point, when there was no light at that place. I was there, hearing everything my dad said. It was the same, always the same. I was (and still) a mistake. Mom and dad shouldn't be married. Mom was a whore who licked grandpa's feet for a living. Grandpa was only the person who loved me.

Each time I go back to my room after it, my mind swirling on one question.

'How long until you hide it from me, dad?'