Ajax Galen
The boiling rage of my father subsided when I entered his office. The monotonous air and his rugged facial expression- it was not the best idea to meddle myself in intruding with his treatment with Mom.
Insane- is one thing that I want to call him. My Mom- he was lucky she wasn’t crazy like him. She could not match the type of craziness he had. The mirage that is placed on us- that this family is the definition of perfect.
It is a delusion- a phantasm deeply hidden into the faces of all those people who thinks we are a perfect family. Kudos to my father’s façade.
And my mother’s uncommunicative persona towards the public. She doesn’t have the voice to speak up- to speak up for herself. Every time she is a near proximity with him- her fidgety fingers and the tapping of the soles of her feet. My father’s robust manner towards her- a deeply rooted trauma she has. And my father is the only one responsible for this. He is the one to be blamed. The filthy smiles coming from him whenever I came in to see his face- it is disgusting to see that in him.
“What’s happening here, Dad?” I tried to act like I am unaware of all the shouting I heard I stepped in here.
My mother was silent. I gave her a swift glance before positioning my own eyes to directly look at my father who is smiling. Candid? I gripped the hem of my cloth- gripping it too tightly.
Letting the fabric received the tangled ignition of my despair towards my father.
“How’s your day in your school? Does my son Ajax ace all the questions thrown at him today? Did you show them your shrewdness?” Here he goes again.
Acting all hooked upon how I am dealing with my academic life. He always wants me to get to the top. To be in a ranking that is higher than the children of my age.
“I am doing good. Got the perfect scores.” He stood up from his seat- clapped his hands. Before moving to have his pace towards where I am standing. He placed his hands on my shoulders. Eyes looking pleasant- proud. He liked my replies. The detestable fury I had kept on nudging me to say something to him. But I didn’t. I need to adapt with this- with all of these.
This is important- a more development of my relationship with him is all that I need. I need his docile- his loyalty towards me. I need to have him believe me that I will be his accomplice- his little one. His well-mannered son who is collaborating for his benefit. I need to give him what he needs for now. I cannot wrangle and show him the animosity I felt every time I heard my mother’s cries in her room. The dread in her eyes- the way she throws a fit. Hurting her own self.
She who pounding her chest with her punches. The onslaught aggression of my father- he made her feel miserable.
“How about that girl?” My body stilled after hearing his tone. The way his voice changed after he uttered this statement.
“I am still at the top, Dad. You don’t need to worry about it.” This is a distraction- to change his focus from fully thinking about Sigrid. The flurry comments- I don’t need to hear more of it. It will only cause a throbbing pang in my chest when he will say something- pertaining to his created rivalry. His imaginative thought that can’t be changed too easily. He is making Sigrid as someone that I need to be in a competition with.
“Protect your place son. Don’t let that child steal your place. Made your defenses stronger- you can’t soften yourself for her. Put a huge distinction between your friendship.
You are above her from the rankings- keep it as something that reminds you that you need to acquire more points to be ahead of her. Always.”
The vulgarity- does his mind do reminds him too that this girl is my treasured person?
Sigrid is my friend- the only one brave enough to tread the emotional barrier I placed. The one who brings down my walls. My safe haven.
“I will try, Dad. Now- I will be excusing myself. You can continue conversing with Mom. Although I don’t quite like what I heard upon arriving here after school.”
He tried to brush it off with the a few laughs. “Son, your mother and I. It’s only natural for couples to have disagreements. And we are no exception of it. Right, Karsyn?” My eyes went towards my mother who looks a bit hesitant to speak something. She was playing with her fingers- massaging her palm with her thumb. She noticed that I am looking at it- she quickly placed it on the sides of her thighs.
She smiled at me tenderly. A hollow pitched in my stomach made me want to rushed towards her and hug her.
I nod my head- before asserting my movements towards the door. Been wanting to stay and hide somewhere close to see what will happen once they think that I successfully got myself out of their plain sight but I can’t. There is nothing painful to feel- when you see your mother hurting but you can’t do nothing to protect her. To shield her from the hostility given by your own father. I predicate that someday- the day will finally come where I will be able to stand up for my mother.
To depreciate my mother’s kindness, he’s been doing it for a very long time. She told me that I shouldn’t resent my father for his displeasing attitude.
How could I not have the anger in my heart when I saw her in such helpless situation of enduring the bombardment caused by her own husband. It is his responsibility to make sure he will be able to provide the necessary protection needed by my mother, to make her feel safe, to let her know that he has a loving husband.
But how can she knew the feeling of having that when he constantly do something that engraved her with the feeling of fear of what lies through his next steps, when there’s a troubled anxious feeling in her heart that scarred her everyday. Making her feel cautious of his every move, because she doesn’t know when he will have to do something to hurt her again.
How can she felt safe within her life when she has that kind of person around her?
My mother deserves to liberate herself from the chains my father places within her.
Sometimes I can’t help but tightly clenched my fist when I saw her in pain. I suddenly want to tell her that she needs to stand up for herself – that she needs to do something to protect her from him. But she always chose to not do something. To let him hurt her. Always forgave him from his spitefulness.
My father – being used in seeing my mother’s response from his assault, it brings me a sense of power. A power over her. That he can control her. That he can always make himself do something vindictive. It fuels his mind to continuously do it. He never apologized for everything he did to my mom. Not even once.
“Is this all you can do for yourself, Mom? Aren’t you supposed to do something to make him stop?” I stared at her face – she looks exhausted from the fight that happened between her and my father earlier.
She wiped her face with the soft tissue she had in her hand. But even when she did it, her tears continue to come out of her eyes. She started to shed more tears. Looked at me with her sad eyes. Vulnerability is immensely visible to me. I bawled my fist and went to her side to hug her.
“He will continue to do that to you, Mom. It will get worse. You can’t let it persist. Mom, you’re hurting. And he doesn’t have any feeling of repentance when he does something like this to you.” She softly sniffed, shaking her head.
“Galen, I love your father.” The only answer she gave. I stood upon bending my knees and stared at her in disbelief. Shaking my head- I can’t help to think about my mother’s emotions towards my father.
A foolhardiness that she knows she has but she kept on going. I walked out of her room hating her for not doing the right thing to do to help herself in making the decision of putting an end into my father’s doing.
[Sigrid Azaiah]
“You’re here.” I timidly went to him and gave him a smile.
Why am I feeling shy when I am used to be around with my friend? I looked at him- he is looking worn out. Something might have happened inside their household.
“I am.” He showed me a weary smile- he is tired. He sluggishly went to seat beside me on the hammock.
My eyes withdraw from eyeing him- as I am distracted by the fluttering wings of a yellow butterfly. Moving from flower to flower- sipping its sweet nectar.
“It’s nice to see her fly so beautifully and free.” I turned my neck to see Galen. He was already looking at me.
I smiled at him cheekily. I put my hand on his chin- tilting his head towards the location of the insect. His expression changed- he was looking too serious but when he saw it he amusingly put a happy expression on his face.
“It looks nice. You certainly love butterflies. You can’t help yourself to look at it when you see one.” He removed my hand- holding it. Before placing it at the tip of the chair.
“I just can’t help myself but be jealous of them. They are free. They are free to spread their wings- flying from one flower to another. They aren’t aware of how magnificent looking their appearance looks. They can liberatingly choose where to land on- without any constraints.”
His eyes fixated on it. Nodding his head before his eyes land back on mine. He shows me a definite smile.
“Why do you love it so much?” He asked-looking like he is questioning. Wanting to know my reasons.
He is always been a thinker. Always curious about everything that caught his attention. And he is always willing to know something. Not only an excellent student but I think he will be a great student of life. That knowledge of him will bring him further along in his excursion in life.
“My grandmother loves butterflies too. She made a promise that when she will leave this world- she will come back again. She will visit and see me again- representing herself as a butterfly.” He attentively looked at me. Didn’t lead his eyes away to look somewhere.
“She’s a good person.” He replied.
“She is. And if she’s here- she will like you.” I answered- full of certainty.
“Azaiah. Please forgive me.” Confusion gushed into me when he muttered his words softly.
“For what? Why are you asking for forgiveness, Galen? When you didn’t do anything wrong.” His mouth nearly opened to say something but he nibbled his lower lip instead.
Removing his gaze from me and looked at the butterfly who is still immensely present- hovering its wings.
“I am sorry. For those moments when I unintentionally hurt you. And for those moments when I can’t fully persevered to defend your name in the name of our friendship.”
I did not know what he meant after he expressed his words. I also felt something in my heart- hearing it from him touched something within me. The exility of the humid air- swiftly touching my face. I hope I can see more of this side of him. When he can lay back his intensity for a while- to give it a rest. To chill- and to not overly-exhaust himself from striving to hard in his studies. I am aware of the pressures he had from his father.
If only I can help him lessen that burdens, he is carrying. But I am also having my own stuffs to be dealt with.
I am also needing to work hard for my own grades. The only thing I am hoping for- is that we can have a long break from all these pressures we are burdening ourselves with…