Chapter Ten

dear J,

being far away from you is eating me alive. i feel.. lost, somehow. just like the first time you didn’t send me home, only multiplied by a trillion times.

i hope you don’t mind me whining like this.. i know what an opportunity this was for you, and i never blamed you for leaving. i just.. miss you.

the art gallery has been doing great, especially since you came up with the publicity gimmick for us. we all miss you dearly, darling. lucinda sends her regards. i’m telling you think only because she’s incredibly hideous, annoying and bitchy, therefore not allowing me to be unrestricted by bouts of paranioa and insecurity. :]

how’s life over at your end, love? have you been eating and sleeping well? don’t forget to take your blood supplement pills. all of a sudden, i miss being by your side and having to go through that tiresome routine of shoving the damned pills down your throat myself.

i won’t deny, it’s been tough without you. it’s like i lost an arm and a leg- half of me seems to be dysfunctional. in short, not only do i miss you, your departure has effectively handicapped me. there are so many things i could and should say. but for some reason, can’t put them into words, what more coherent sentences.

in essence baby, take care, and mail me soon. in case you still don’t know, reading your mails are the highlight of my day.

yours for forever and a day,

J

***

dear diary,

the days seem longer, somehow. no doubt, working is something i still thoroughly enjoy. by the end of the working day, however, i find myself wishing i was already home, smoking a cigarette and drinking chardonnay. i’ve taken to being such a home-body, and i don’t know why.

(by the way, dear journal, forgive me for not writing. my schedule has been jam-packed of late, with appointments and other frivolous things like discussing the pattern on the flooring of the new gallery and such.)

as i was saying before that random thought so rudely interrupted me, it’s not as if i get tired from being on my feet, that the people at work, or the tasks bore me. but all of a sudden, it seems the designer furniture,  baby and i picked out together from the ikea catalogue, that felt so cold and empty before now holds a great appeal for me. curious, isn’t it? i would like to tell myself that this is because at the beginning, it reminded me too much of him, and now the neediness has been worn down, but we both know that’s not true.

it has been months since i’ve last seen my favorite man. i blindly attribute this sudden, screeching halt in the desire for visual communication to the fact that we both are busy. still, a part of myself is aware that the other half is going mad with denial. i would drop everything and be on the earliest possible flight to him, should he say a world to mildly suggest it. the fact is, that this long distance relationship has put a strain on us both. a very big, ugly, awkward, and undeniably painful strain.

at least for me.

it’s been two weeks since he last sent me an e-mail. i’m either paranoid, or afraid with good reason to be. either way, it doesn’t sound like i’m looking on the bright and sunny side of things. i thank my inherent gene for pessimism for this. (fucking parents. :])

so, i don’t know what to think anymore.

therefore i shall tame my thoughts and drown my sorrows. absinthe for tonight, maybe. perhaps a little indulgence in the green fairy will calm my wretched and tortured soul. (haha.)

pissed and aimless,

J

Chapter 9

joie was a complicated person, yet so very, very simple.

she understood what men wanted, and she she knew why and how they intended to get it. she knew what other women craved, and she knew why they did. what she failed to understand was why they all needed it so. they were all so fragile, so frail, so weak.. so human.

how could they just get by? go through life like that?

they were such animals, so primal. only haircuts and clothes that painted the stark and single difference. why don’t i want the same things? she would ask herself. she’d stay awake and wonder why she was so different. why she should be. the would question what she knew, what she thought she was sure of. she’d question her perceptions, and if she was really right.

jonas and joie were a perfect match. still as in love with each other as the first day, they disagreed and quarreled over everything, but they were crazy about each other. but though that was true, things didn’t work out for them the way they worked in the end for allie and noah in the notebook. she always they knew they wouldn’t.

they’d write their own story. he’d put it in words, she’d immortalize it on a canvas, and they’d create it by living it. their story. it wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs. belonged to them, and owned them. it was their world, their prison, their garden, their heaven, and their hell. it was and wasn’t a bed of roses and thorns, and it wasn’t just an average roller-coaster.

but it was theirs. and they made it together.

***

joie couldn’t remember most of her childhood. only bit and pieces of it came back to her in flashes. it wasn’t that she had a boring past that it wasn’t particularly memorable, but that most of her colorful life then was unpleasant, to say the least, and she had learned over time that the easiest way to move on was not to remember at all.

she did remember her father, jeremy. the way he smelled when he was sober, when he adored her and played with her hours on end. the way he pulled her on his lap and pretended to nibble her hair and let her rub her cheek against the smoothness of his own skin. the way she would scream with peals of laughter, and the chair would rock violently due to her fits of giggles.

she didn’t remember the other type of violent, with or without the chair. or the other kind of fits she would have.

she did remember her mother, natalie. she remembered the dinners they used to have. the lovely dishes, especially when they had guests over. she remembered her mother being so pretty, her lipstick vivid against her pale complexion, and her beautiful eyes, moist, when she watched one of those romantic classics on the telly.

she didn’t remember her mother being as drunk, as violent, as critical, as spiteful and mean as her father could be when he was intoxicated. she didn’t remember what it was like being forced to sit on the stove having her panties and insides ripped apart by the man who justified it by him bring home the bacon. she didn’t remember her mother standing at the doorway, looking down at her naked body and calling her a slut after her father was done and left. she didn’t remember trying to die because they made her life so miserable.

she did remember.

she pretended like she didn’t. she pretended it was someone else all of that happened to. another 10 year old whose body had been sullied.

but when she did remember that it wasn’t anyone else’s burden but hers to carry, she’d go to that abandoned railway station and cry in that dirty cubicle she felt was her haven. it was the only place she ever cried in. because joie hated crying. and if she was going to have to cry, she’d make sure no one else would see.

joie remembered and it hurt her. the knowledge that her parents were always too high and intoxicated to remember what they did to her tore her into a million pieces, over and over again. the memory of it all, the voices she heard never ceased it’s tormenting.

oh joie, don’t hide. you can’t run away. we’re here.. your parents are here. we are your life!

god where are you?

there IS no god joie! we.. WE are god. we are your life, your past, present and future. we are the voices in your head, and everything else. you know that don’t you joie?

so she would make them remember. and when she laid out her flawless plan and the execution went without a hitch, the voices, the taunting shadows she used to see behind everything joie thought she loved, vanished, and joie began smiling again. and why shouldn’t she?

joie had her happy ending.

Chapter 8

joie was tired. very tired. she had been up painting all night, and before she knew it, it was four. her mind forgot the time, but apparently, her body remembered.

she went to the mini-bar and got herself a flute of champagne. i should take a break. she told herself as she made herself comfortable in the plush recliner. joie looked up at the ceiling, letting herself drown in the love ballad playing softly in the background.

when will you say yes to me?
tell me quando, quando, quando?
you mean happiness to me
oh my darling tell me when..

just a little while.. she thought to herself, as she sipped her little glass of indulgence. she set it on the table after a minute or two, and felt herself being dragged, unwillingly, to sleep.

all of a sudden, she was back in southern california. back in time, when she was 15, going on 16. she watched that little part of her history unfold in her mind. watched, as a third person.

joie watched, as the teenage girl walked, struggling with her heavy bag full of paints and brushes, in her hands a canvas. she watched her face, the features so familiar, yet seemed to her like they belonged to a stranger. the girl pushed the her brown hair away from her eyes. and then joie knew, what she was about to witness what she herself did, many, many years ago.

***

the grass was dry, and it scratched her ankles, irritating her pale skin as she trekked through the field in between her home and the bus stop. she felt dehydrated, her eyes hurt and frankly, she was too exhausted to care.

finally, she managed to get her aching body off the grass and into the comforting shelter of the patio. she dug her hand deep into the innermost compartment of her bag and found them. she fumbled with the keys clumsily for a few seconds, then stuck the one with the mickey mouse head into the keyhole and jingled it the way she was so used to, so the key wouldn’t get stuck.

she took of her shoes and at the same time looked for signs of the others’ shoes. jem and jules weren’t home, but they had a guest. she looked up, standing at the doorway and called out softly, like a frightened child in the dark.

mama..? are you home?

no reply. the silence wasn’t welcome, like any other day. something felt wrong today. very wrong. as she walked in, she heard the sound of her mother’s sobbing. another fight.. joie thought dolefuly. it was almost a routine.

the voices were getting louder. the yells from her father, and the pleading from her mother.

where’s the guest? joie was confused. she didn’t see anyone else downstairs. strange. something was wrong.. very wrong.

today. it’s today.

she tiptoed up the stairs, and one of them creaked. she stopped on that one, bent over slowly and lifted the stair. the loose board came loose easily and she inspected the gap but couldn’t find what she was looking for. joie could have sworn she could feel her heart beating in her throat. she was scared stiff. then she heard it.

a gunshot. clear, piercing and resonating. and then.. nothing.

she raced up the remaining steps, her ears ringing. her hand reached into her bag and pulled it out just as the door of her parents’ bedroom swung open. she saw her mother beside a man. both were naked, and dead. their attacker’s head jerked in surprise and joie aimed the pepper-spray in his eyes.

as he screamed, he dropped his weapon. the gun from under the creaky stair. she seized it, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.

the impact from the gun was bigger than she was prepared for, and it threw her off balance. she fell to the floor, next to the man she just shot. it was her father.

joie was shaken, but she didn’t feel anything much more. i’m supposed to be shocked and scared. i just killed my father. i’m supposed to cry. she couldn’t find an ounce of remorse in her heart, and the tears just never came.

she ran downstairs and made the call. she gave them her address and her name. the police arrived within minutes. she gave her account of what happened, and then made arrangements for her sisters and herself to move to their aunt’s place temporarily.

the police spoke to aunt lillian when she came over, and she overheard bits and pieces of it. an affair.. committed a crime of passion.. open and shut case.. things like that.

and that was it. there statements taken, papers filed. no one to convict. the evidence was intact. everything fell into place, like pieces of a puzzle.

joie was.. pleased. and why shouldn’t she be? everything went according to plan.

she hid a secret smile as aunt lillian hustled her sisters into the car, which then slid out of the driveway.

she never wanted to go back. ever.

***

her parents’ funerals were grand affairs, of course, given their social standing. even some senior minister took the time off to drop by and offer his condolences, shake a few hands. everyone was there. except for joie. the very same afternoon of the funeral, she flew off to new york, armed with a piece of paper certifying that she had a place in the top university of arts, and with a steely resolve never to go home.

***

joie slept through to the next morning, and awoke to the sound of her kettle whistling. she got up to investigate, and was pleasantly surprised to see jonas over at her apartment, whipping up breakfast.

they exchanged smiles and after a kiss on her forehead, he insisted she get back to bed till breakfast was ready. she went to her room, but not to bed. instead, she looked out of her bedroom window, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

isn’t it a beautiful morning mama? don’t you wish you were alive to see it? i painted it for you once upon a time.. but it was never good enough.

no. her smile faded and her green eyes burned. it was never good enough.

chapter 7

joie was never one to compromise. especially after she was teased, taunted and laughed at when she was growing up. she learned that people, by nature were hard to please. so, she reasoned, why try?

joie was never pacifying or clingy. she’d dated before, and after being fooled once or twice, she honestly couldn’t be bothered to keep up. guy were just guys. she didn’t need them to survive. she got bored quickly, and so did the men she dated.

but then out of the blue.. jonas happened. her life revolved around him. so much so that nothing else mattered to her at times. often, in fact.

it was as if every second she was free from studying or from work was reserved for jonas. it didn’t matter what they did, just as long as it was with each other.

nothing he did would make her love him any less.

***

the day kitalie died, was the first time she saw him cry. his blue eyes leaked tears that broke her heart. kitalie was gone, he told her over the phone.

she rushed to his place, and found him on his bed, stroking the spot beside his pillow kitalie chose to sleep every night. he cried, long and hard, his head in his hands. joie said nothing, but kissed him, then began to cry too. kitalie was family.

“your eyes are the same as hers.” he told joie the first time they met.

“whose?” she asked, a tinge of jealousy could be detected in her voice.

he laughed and said, “kitalie! my cat.”

he introduced the two of them soon after they began dating. joie absolutely adored her. kitalie’s eyes were bright green, with a glimmer that never faded as she aged. like emeralds in the dark, they shone regardless of occasion, and conveyed every conceivable expression. jonas would talk to her in that voice, that special one that was only for her. and it was obvious kitalie loved him for it.

“how come i don’t have a special voice?” joie used to tease.

but that was it. no more. jonas would never use that or any other special voice ever again, joie realized with him sobbing uncontrollably on her shoulder. it made her sad.

jonas had lost another companion, another friend. kitalie.. she was special. joie knew no other would ever take her place and fill the void kitalie had left in his heart. it wasn’t as simple as replacing a plate that broke. it was impossible.

as she cried with her face buried in his hair, jonas clung to her fiercely, as if to say “don’t leave me too.. please..”. she understood. and at that moment, there was nothing more joie wanted to do than to assure him that she wouldn’t. ever.

chapter 6

joie was sacred.

frightened by the prospect that he might be leaving her.

it’s just a matter of time, isn’t it joie? you know he will.

shut up. you don’t know what you’re talking about. he won’t.

and she believed it. he wouldn’t. jonas loved her the way she loved him. she was sure of it.

one day they fought. flaws in each other began to surface. everything that could possibly had gone wrong that day, had.

strangely, she wasn’t pulling away. instead she found herself staring into his eyes, more in love with him than ever.

to her, it was proof that it was real. this thing they had between them. the love she felt.

but then again, the quarrels didn’t stop. and it all became a routine. still, her bliss outweighed the unhappiness she felt when they had a fight. it was incredible that she felt this way. never before had she felt so overwhelmed with the desire to please someone. she wanted him to be happy with her.

because it was it. jonas was the one.

she felt very afraid, however, that he would get sick of it all, and want out. she couldn’t even begin to imagine how crushed she would be, how torn and how broken. she feared as she would for her life. she did, because he gave it to her.

only a matter of time before that joie.. the voices taunted.

that night she began to paint.

a tree. withered, old. still standing tall in the sun that wore it’s bark. she painted the roots long, and they dug deep in into the rich soil. the very soil that would provide it’s life source. some of the roots she painted up heaved, bent like twigs, twisted, as if they were writhing with pain. then branches that stretched up, as if raised towards the heavens praying for deliverance. all against the backdrop of a white house, it’s construction left unfinished, and a magnificent sunset that any romantic would die to see.

it was a picture that hurt her to paint. she cried, many, many times.

she painted for four days.

and by the end of it, she was breathless, spent. and then she stared hard, and gasped- as if seeing her art for the first time.

it was beautiful.

chapter 5

growing up, whenever little joie looked in a mirror, she became depressed. she was too short, too fat, too flat. every other girl was awesomely beautiful, as if it was some kind of a law.

you’re an ugly duckling in a land of swans. the voices told her. you don’t belong here joie.

she knew that.

she made it a point to avoid looking in mirrors. but if joie had looked, she would have realized that at the age of fourteen, she developed a figure worth mentioning. it was only a matter of time when boys started to pursue her. there was something about her sparkly green eyes that radiated intelligence and maturity beyond her age, and that husky laugh that was both adorable and a challenge.

she met many of them. men who would tell her how beautiful they thought she was, and how they were so charmed by her gentle demeanor. naive and innocent, she fell for it time and again. hook, line and sinker. she craved the love, the attention.

but because of the heartbreak, she swore never to trust another man again.

and then she met jonas.

***

they were schoolmates. and joie noticed him.

a friend of a friend, as it turned out. evie, her partner in arts class and her roommate knew him, and in due time, they were introduced. joie fell. fast and hard.

it wasn’t just physical attraction. joie was drawn to his wit, his intelligence and his humor. she suspected there was a part of him hidden away, and he that he had eccentric tendencies. it only fueled her curiosity, and intrigued her further. defying her own emotions, joie played the game by the rules. but she wasn’t prepared for what jonas did to her.

it only took a week. joie hadn’t expected that.

and she would remember it forever. the day was well spent. it was wonderful.

the kiss itself was.. beautiful. she blushed, just thinking about it. it’s just like in the movies, she thought happily, dancing with her paintbrush. the angels were singing, the stars were shining, and the leaves murmured with approval. joie was reminded that night, that there was a god. how else could something, someone so perfect be explained?

he only wants to get in your pants joie. what’s the matter with you! nothing comes free and you sure as hell don’t deserve this dream come true!

the voices were as deafening as ever, like always. but as she thought about jonas, they faded out. like a stark contrast with watercolors and oil on canvas, he was the one she could focus on now.

she painted. using hues of red, purple and a cool blue. it didn’t take long for her to finish blending in the splashes of color. four hours later, she looked at the end product and smiled.

no lines, no boundaries, no definitives. the colors were meshed together. it looked messy but at the same time beautifully artistic in it’s own way.

joie smiled. she was in love.

chapter 4

joie was always afraid, but she just never let it show. she couldn’t. she saw what happened to the other weak kids in school. those who hung around the playgrounds, naively thinking there was really safety in numbers, the same few who got pushed around every school day.

joie was smarter than that. she chose to run away.

lunches in the bathrooms, hiding in the library during play breaks, and going straight home after school. she was a quiet kid. never answering questions in class, and she had no friends to speak of. in fact, most of the other kids didn’t know her name.

forget it, she told herself. i’m safer that way anyway.

she was wrong. safe. from the other children maybe. or people in general.

but joie could not chase the voices in her head away. they were as much a part of her as the hairs on her head or her little fingernails.

they never left her alone.

***

joie had two sisters, jem and jules. both younger than she was, they looked up to her. not out of respect she had earned as an elder sibling, but out of obligation.

to them, joie was an outsider, and they treated her like one. they didn’t care for her good grades, or the advice she tried to give occasionally. jem and jules thought their sister wasn’t quite.. normal. after all, mummy and daddy were always treating her different.

natalie was exasperated. joie was too, too docile. too quiet, too polite. she was a good girl, no doubt. but according to mrs lane, joie’s principal, she wasn’t like the rest of the children. is everything alright at home, with joie? she had inquired. natalie tired herself out trying to think of what exactly, was wrong with her eldest daughter.

jeremy was never home. as a result, became a stranger in his own home. the economy, he often complained to his wife, was terrible. he often said he would have to work himself to death to provide for the goddamn family so they’d better appreciate him.

appreciate you? joie often thought to herself when she spared her father a minute, we don’t even know you!

and they don’t know you either joie.

there wasn’t a day she didn’t wake up with her face buried in a damp pillow.

chapter 3

the bell rang crisply through the humid air and was subsequently followed by a chorus of delighted squeals from joie’s class.

summer holidays were here!

swimming, boating trips, picnics, beach outings. the children had so much to look forward to! beautiful, radiating smiles all around, the children’s faces pink with excitement, high-pitched voices exchanging holiday plans.

but joie. joie at the back of the class. joie was quiet. she simply packed her belongings and let herself out from the back door. no goodbyes were exchanged with her, and she kept her eyes on the floor.

truth was, they didn’t even notice she was there.

joie, her demons jeered, they don’t even see you joie!

they didn’t need to say a word. she knew it all too well. those demons. those demons that were shouting down her better angels.

god, father, where are you?

chapter 2

joie’s family loved her. and she loved them. but it was obvious from the beginning they didn’t get along with her as well as they did each other. her mother told her constantly that she was just special. but she knew better. she was always the outcast. baa baa black sheep.

they don’t need you. the voices told her. the demons she feared with every beat of her heart. she prayed. protect me from them, father. save me!

there was always god to turn to, her mother once told her. mother was right, she always was. god couldn’t leave her. he loved joie. and joie loved him.

the demons didn’t stop, but their voices got softer. they whispered her name in the dead of the night. and much as she tried not to be afraid, she still was.

hello joie. they started to say.

chapter 1

she was bright. she was brave. she was eight. she was different.

joie wasn’t like kids her age. they teased her for kicks, so in time she forgot about ever having friends. she read novels by jeffrey archer while the others were enjoying their picture books. she didn’t like sodas, but only woke up to her morning lipton tea. she wouldn’t run and play during recess, but would sit alone on the rubber swing no one came by anymore and try to count the leaves above her.

joie was quiet. sensitive, but indifferent at times. she wasn’t afraid, but wrestled with her demons constantly when no one else was around. she knew they were there, telling her things, haunting her dreams. and sometimes, they would laugh at her.

she cried alone, poor joie. she couldn’t tell.