A Life Unfinished

t/w: death of a parent

I drew a line across the edge of a dream right before it ended. It was the dream that I would be able to live the rest of my life knowing I am not alone. I clung, I caressed, I created a vision of my ideal world. But we cannot stay in dreams and visions for long, or else we would be wandering, lost in the light of an unreality.

I was working on a drawing of my family that night, and the vague shadow of my mother was half-finished when she called me.

“Trevy! Food’s ready!”

I put my pencil down and hastily washed away the graphite from my hands. It was their anniversary in 2 days, and the drawing was supposed to be a surprise. So I thought, naïvely: There’s always tomorrow, I guess. 

My mother and father were waiting at the dinner table. Sinigang was on the menu tonight, thanks to both of them. The smell of the broth overpowered my worries as we began to eat.

“So, have things been getting better with your classmates, anak?” my father started.

I sighed. “Yeah, if ‘better’ was a high bar to clear.”

My mother gave me a weak smile as she reached for my hand. “It’s okay, Trevy. Just tough it out until summer, and by then we can start thinking about transferring schools. I’m sure any school will be glad to have a talented boy like you.”

While I tried to feign happiness, in truth, my mother’s compliments were far from reassuring. It didn’t matter how smart or how good of a student you were, if you didn't have the means to gain influence over other people, you were a lost cause. 

The situation in the school I was in had become unbearable. I was the butt of the joke all the time, no matter how insightful my words and musings were. I never understood these people; they were too preoccupied with what they thought, what they knew was right. In their eyes, anyone who thought differently was bound to be led astray, wandering in a labyrinth of misbelief.

“Trevy? Earth to Trevy…”

“Huh? Yes, mom?”

“Have you been drawing anything lately?”

Ever since middle school, art was my only escape from the realities of the world. Since then, I’d gotten pretty good at drawing. Any great work of artistry took time to perfect, and I found it soothing to create it for myself. It gave me hope that I would be understood, and not cast away like a relic of the past. 

That hope did not last.

“Yes, but I’m not finished with it yet.”

“I’d love to see it when it’s done!” my mother replied.

Her phone rang.

“One second.” She answered the call. “Hello? Yes, this is Tricia. What’s the matter?”

Her face went from one of concern to horror.

“An emergency in HQ? Yes, I’ll be right there. Bye.”

She hung up. “Olympus had an issue with the Fracterium gas tanks. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go out. I’ll be back tomorrow, Trevy. Get some rest.”

She kissed me on the cheek before heading out. Her promise of transferring to a new school gave me a light to shine on my dreams of escape. Looking back, maybe I was misguided. 

That night, I did not know what tomorrow would bring.

It brought despair.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of sirens. Confused, the sound drew me into the kitchen.

My father sat down at the table, weeping and angry. A police officer was talking to him.

“We recovered her body from Olympus Incorporated Headquarters. Reports seemed to indicate a fatal accident via blunt force trauma. We’ll investigate as thoroughly as we can, but…”

“But what? You just told me Tricia is dead. How are you going to deal with this, ha? I have a son to take care of! You can’t fix this!” He let out a piercing wail.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

Mom… is dead? No. This has to be a joke. A sick, sick joke. It’s April Fools’ day, right? She’ll come around the corner and —

My dad turned to me, pale. His pain was real. His tears were real.

But whatever this was didn’t feel real. This had to be a bad dream…

“Anak…”

I collapsed onto the floor, bawling. “Moooooom! No! Where are you, mom? Come out already!”

My father and I cried together on the floor of our dining room. Her last words to me rang out in my mind.

I’ll be back tomorrow, Trevy.

“Why did she lie?”

My father was too exhausted to answer.

I dashed upstairs and locked myself in my room. The drawing of a dream I once had lay on my desk, unfinished.