The Last Smile of My Pain

I was in college when I went to Mother for consolation. My Algebra professor had flunked me and although I had pleaded with him to give me a second chance, he said, no, the decision was final. I cried in secret. I could not bear the thought I would not pass after working so hard. That was half a decade ago.

When I saw them holding hands, I thought; was he the reason she had said she did not love me anymore? I went to my apartment and packed a few things up. I knew I had to see mother even after all this time it must have been five years.

The gentle wind that winnowed the low and woody trees made me shiver. I ran along a narrow clearing that led into the forest, looking for shelter from the rain under the broad leaves of cocoyam, perhaps. But the downpour became a deluge. I found myself in a thicket close to Mother’s place; I guessed. The place had not changed a lot, so I remembered where to head to.

Leafless twigs whipped up by the wind lashed at my wet arms, creating rashes. A moderate runoff made it across the overgrowth which overran like a long green carpet that extended to the other world. Were the grasses to wilt, I thought, they would catch me fast in the mud. I ran as if running would make me forget the pain I had from the world in which I existed.

I stood in the backyard of Mother’s house. It didn’t feel like home. I looked up into the sky. Cirrus clouds like huge cotton balls lazily swam. The sun was eyeing me from behind one of them. I glanced over at the half-open back door where the sun’s rays crept over the threshold. Upon my shoulder was a leaf torn from a tree canopy. I brushed it away. It floated like a feather swaying in the air and finally hit the ground of the world it had never thrived.

I looked at the house again and the palm trees that seemed to guard it. A light wind caressed the palms trees, snuck into the house through the hinged-window to my left, and took mother’s hum out the back door. A sweet voice which made my heartbeat jump. I felt as though something was choking me. A cry which I could not help but release. I rushed inside.

Mother turned to me from the table. She rushed over and hugged me. I hugged her back.

“Why are you here, Phil?” Mother led me to a chair. I sat. She went over to the door that led to the living room and closed it silently. Locked it.

The room smelled of good food, but I had no appetite, not even for mother’s bacon and fried garlic rice.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she said.

I said nothing.

Mother sat down across the table from me.

“Have you eaten yet?”

I shook my head. How could I possibly eat when…? I cried.

Mother got up, moved by my side, and wrapped me in her arms. I felt like a child again when she enquired, “What happened, Phil?”

“Sally has left me, mom.” I checked my sobs. I said, “I saw her with Earl.” I hardly dare look at mother as I knew she wanted to cry for me and I wanted to hold on to whatever strength I had regained.

Mother kissed my temple. “Don’t worry, son,” she said, “one day you will meet someone who will love you better. You’re still young, Phil.”

“Can I stay here forever, mother?” I knew what her answer would be, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Sorry, Phil,” mother wiped a tear on her duster sleeve, “you know it’s impossible?”

There was a knock on the door that led to the living room.

Mother hurriedly got me up and led me out to the backyard. She shut the door and locked me outside.

I peered through the small window pane on the back door and saw her opened the door that led to the living room. She welcomed a guy in the kitchen. I heard him said, “I heard you talking to someone.” Mother pretended she was preparing the meal while stole glances out the windowpane at me.

He asked her what the matter was.

“There’s nothing wrong, Phil,” she said. “Take your time with your girl. She might get bored. I’ll just serve your breakfast a little while.”

“Alright, mother,” he said and walked back to the living room.

The old house still felt familiar. I snooped around a bit until I came upon another hinged-window. I paused and looked around to see if anyone was watching me. I saw no one. The window was open. Its hinged door swung when the wind hit it. I squatted and silently crept along on my haunches, almost duck-like, beneath the window.

I heard people talking. Two people. Both voices were familiar to me. One was Sally’s. Hearing her voice made me think about the way people tease each other, as I had with Sally. And the pain was there again, building up like running water pouring into a drinking glass.

I got up and peered at them. Sally’s blonde hair dangled on the back of a long sofa chair. Visible beside her was curly black hair, just like mine.

Mother entered the room cradling a tray with two cups of coffee and platters of bacon and fried garlic rice. As she set the food down in front of them, she noticed me. Her eyes sharpened, just like the way they used to when I was a kid and had made a mistake. She glanced over at me and signaled for me to meet her at the back door. When I arrived at the back door, she was waiting for me.

“What have I always told you, Phil? When you’re here, let nobody see you. Even yourself!” She pulled me back inside.

I was the most emotional guy in Mother’s world at that moment. I wanted to cry hard and let go of my wildest sobs, but I did not want to mess things up.

“You,’’ she stammered, “I mean, he is marrying Sally next month.”

I tried to smile. I felt happy. But behind that happiness was jealousy. Life was so cruel in my world. I wished I was the one in Mother’s world so that all the love of the two women I love the most would be mine.

Mother touched my shoulder. She stroked it like she did when I was a toddler. “I will always love you, Phil,” she said. “I would do anything for you except what you’ve always wanted. We need things to stay the way they are. We need to maintain balance in the multiverse. Put all things in balance. You understand, don’t you?”

I glanced up at her shamefully. I knew I must have been crazy to think of staying there for the rest of my life. And I knew what she wanted for me was to be brave enough to face my life in the world I live in.

“You can’t stay here longer,” she muttered, her tone trembled. “Not this time, Phil.”

I knew what she meant. She had always told me about it. It was impossible to replace Phil in his world, to get all he’d got. He had been fortunate. I never was. He had lived with Mother since he was born and now he was marrying the girl I loved, the girl he loves as well. She never met Earl in that world. What a lucky fate for Phil.

Mother continued, “I left you in your world, as you’ve said when you were three. If you could live a quarter of your life without me, I am sure you can in the years to come. You can always come here if you like, but you can’t stay longer. You know the rules of the multiverse.”

Her words opened up my mind.

“Forget about Sally. There is a right woman for you at the right time but not here in the world you don’t exist.”

I got to my feet, faced mother, and hugged her longer than ever before. Tears ran down our faces. I let her go, slung my backpack on my shoulder, and turned. I wondered if maybe that was the last time I would visit her? Yes, I needed to maintain balance in the multiverse, as she had said.

The back door was open wide, as if it was telling me something. Time to move out. I walked out of the house. Mother did not prevent me. I glimpsed over my shoulder and saw her looking at me, smiling and full of hope on her face.

“I’ll always love you, mom.” My words were a farewell. I wiped away tears.

No one saw me walked towards the thicket. I made sure of that. When I got there, I halted for a while and looked up. The sun was halfway to noontime. I could feel its gentle warmth on my face. It was good to once again see the cottony clouds caught in an enticing-blue backdrop. Ahead, I heard birds chirping. I got into the thicket.

On the other side of the thicket, my world was now sunny. I knew then I would start a new life without Sally. Without Mother. All but myself.

At last, I smiled. The last smile of my pain.