It was getting calm once again. I walked to the kitchen with an empty mug in my hand and had it filled. The sun couldn't come through the room windows with those heavy curtains, but it sure permeated the dining hall with enough to sting the eyes.
I gulped the water down. It was close to 2pm. I hit the showers with a cigarette in my hand and pondered about life. Traffic passed by slowly in the background as the splattering of water filled the ears. I sighed.
Many things have come to pass, yet, I'm still standing only as a minor role for the audience. The star in me had since faded into shadows I can no longer make out. It felt pitiful, yet surreal.
The door bells rang as I shut the tap. With a towel wrapped round my waist and water trickling down the face, I reached for the door. It was the mailman. As I dotted after my signature, he handed me a little brown package with my name on a sticker over layers of plastic tape. I thanked him, sat the package down, changed up, and remembered time. I was to be out shopping with my sis at the local IT mall.
As I unlocked the door, mom called. She had forgotten about waking me up, but it was late anyway. I briefly hung up, and noticed the brown package. "I have a few minutes..." I thought, and took off the boots again.
I unwrapped the package with much difficulty - with so much tape over it, it must have been a really thorough check through the customs. I shook the box as I continued to unwrap, a little clunk could be heard. Something fragile was inside. As I neared the end, I could smell the fragrance of Vanilla - the sort you would remember vividly running through the fields in the warm afternoon sun.
And then it hit me - it was a package from New Zealand. I had only one friend in New Zealand. It must be from him.
The box opened, the tapes unwovened, squashed newspapers lined the walls on every side. A familiar flower sat on top, still fresh from the tight seal. Strangely.
I picked up the flower and breathed it in. Vanilla. Memories of bellying the tyre-swing off the huge tree came flooding in: we counted clouds, built stone-men, and kicked paddles near the glistening pond with brown-necked ducks. It felt nostalgic. I choked. Lit another cigarette and started on the newspapers.
Piece by piece I picked them out. Old nonetheless, but still new. Then I saw it - the broken figurine of Mozart.
"If you ever receive this, I'm probably in heaven watching you!"
"Oh c'mon! Don't say that! You'll be okay!"
That was our parting words at the airport. As the planes flew past the terminal, we hugged and promised to be in touch. I remembered tears welled in both our eyes as mom ushered me into the gate, while Zee's mom hugged him from behind. We traced our eyes and waved unendingly till we could not see past the counters and adults and trolleys and chairs and walls. I could not sleep on the plane I recall.
A little card sat waiting at the bottom. It was from Zee's mom.
"Sorry dear, Zee was too weak to write. The last thing he wanted me to do was to send this to you within the next 24hrs. He said he'll wait for your call. Love, Aunt Joan. 7th April, 3pm."
I check the package arrival time immediately, it was stamped at 2pm. My clock showed 2:55pm. Without a thought, I scrambled for the phone and dialled the full array of numbers with tears forming.
The call went through after much connection clicks, then, Aunt Joan greeted me.
"Aunt Joan! Where's Zee?"
A silence ensued. Then I heard sobbing.
"I'm sorry dear, he's just too weak to talk... and I can't bring the phone in..."
"Can you call me from the room?"
"Alright... let's hang up first"
"Yes m'am!" And I hung up. And I waited.
The phone rang.
"Hello? Aunt Joan? hello?"
Heavy breathing filled the earpiece, and a voice, a really weak voice started cracking, "... hey... "
"Zee! Zee what's happening?"
"... hey... no... ... hellos... ....?"
I nearly fainted. What kinda joke is that at this time? "Zee!" I shouted, half crying, "I got the package man! You aren't gonna leave me behind man!"
"... love ... ya ... man ... ... sorry..." The next thing I knew, Aunt Joan came back on the phone, "hey, the doctor's here to see how he's doing..." Aunt Joan broke down, "he's not gonna make it..."
I went speechless. I hung on the phone till they finally pronounced him dead. I could hear his struggles over the phone, I heard crying, I hear wailing, I heard him die.
Sam, Zee's brother finally spoke to me last, and promised to send me some pictures of his final resting place. Then we hung up.
I re-composed myself. Zee had seen all this coming. He had prepared me for this. I kept the souvenirs back in the box and left the house.
The sky was clear, clouds everywhere; the sun was warm, casting beautiful shadows everywhere; the flower sat in my shirt pocket, the smell of vanilla everywhere.
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