Young Writers Society

When we got back to the house, Father was waiting for us in the living room. He sat on the sofa, leaning his back against it with a cigarette hanging in his mouth. Irregular line of smoke spiraled upward. One of his arm was leaning on the sofa, and his eyes were fixed on the television. The screen showed Al-hijrah program, a channel based on Islam religion. It was his favourite channel nowadays.

I didn’t want to sit with him not only because I still had bitter feelings from the scolding he gave to me the other day, but also because I hated the pungent smell of the cigarette smoke. I had made Imran and myself vow not to smoke because it was unhealthy and didn’t make you attractive or mature at all. Some of the guys in my class smoked, and I never wanted to talk to them because of it.

“Merah, come here,” Father said, stopping me from going to my escape place.

I sighed silently, and turned around to him. Imran was sitting beside him, watching the television. He wasn’t much of a religious person, but he was a curious one, and religious stuffs were interesting to him. I sat at the sofa opposite to them, taking off my scarf, which wasn’t compulsory to wear in the house.

“Yes, Father?” I said, my voice came out slow. I didn’t make eye contact with him and fixed my eyes at the tiny bowl on the table between the sofas made to dump cigarette ashes.

“Tomorrow is holiday,” he said, shaking the tip of his cigarette on the bowl. “We need to wash the cars.”

No! I thought. The search would start tomorrow. I looked at him. “I’ve a plan tomorrow, Father, with Imran. Can’t we wash them on Sunday?”

Father’s eyebrows knitted into a frown. “Your plan is more important than your Father’s? It’s been a week, and the cars are dirty.”

I knew where this was going. It was the time Father wouldn’t back down. He didn’t like people arguing with him, and I happened to always argue with him more than Imran. He didn’t like his daughter to be like that. He wanted me to be proper and obedient, but I wasn't. I just inherited his stubbornness. And it wasn’t like I didn’t want to help him washed the cars at all.

“The plan Imran and I have is just once for all. After that, we’re not doing it again,” I said. This was the part where I should say “please”, but it would give the power of decision in his hand. “We promise to wash the cars on Sunday.”

Imran patted Father on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to carry out the plan if it isn’t important, Father,” he said, his voice gentle, soothing to hear. “Please let us go tomorrow.”

Father snorted and sucked his cigarette. “Malaysian kids these days. Always get what they want, never care about their parents’ hardship. Fine. I’ll let you go with whatever plan you have there. Am sure you’re going to regret it.” He crushed the cigarette on the table and left the living room. I assumed he was going to his bed to sleep before eleven o’clock when he would go to the bitch’s shop.

Imran shook my shoulder lightly. “That was dangerous, Merah,” he said, a slight frown etched on his face. “You know Father’s temper has no timing. I don’t understand why Father couldn’t let us go for one day before we do his bidding, but I do understand your approach was wrong. You’re making your relationship with him worse.”

“Is it me, or is it him who makes it like that?” I said bitterly, folding my arms. I turned my head from the direction Father left to the television. The program didn’t look interesting at all. “You know how he has spent lesser time with us when he married that bitch. He worked at day, watched the telly and slept a bit at night, and went to the bitch’s shop before going to her home. If not, he slept in our house and the same routine happened the next day.”

Imran frowned at my referring to Saloma as an animal. “She’s not a bitch,” he said as a matter-of-fact, then sighed. “That’s rude, but I know how you feel. That being said, you’re making yourself look worse in front of Father, and if you continue like this, his love would be on the Saloma’s orphan children only.”

Like swallowing a bitter medicine, it was hard to deny him. Unlike me, Saloma’s children were more abiding, although they still called Father as “uncle”. I closed my eyes and leaned my head to the sofa. I needed some rest. There was too much for me to think right now. I didn’t know how my search with Damon would turn out tomorrow. What was more, I didn’t want to think how Sarah and Imran would cooperate. Sarah with her flirtings, sure, but Imran? He might flirt back like he did before. That was troubling.

I turned to him. “Let us forget about our Father issue for a while, okay? I’ve mixed feelings of what’s going to happen tomorrow. Especially knowing you’re going with Sarah. Don’t encourage her, I beg you. The thought is just disturbing.”

Imran’s wilted eyes widened, the light coming back to them. He chuckled, taking the telly’s remote control. “Well, to be honest, I’m learning on getting used to her attitude. I just think being anxious about it isn’t the best thing to do.”

Don’t! I screamed in my mind. I don’t want to call her my sister-in-law. Never! I sent a dagger glare on him. “I’m pretty sure you want to live tomorrow, Imran,” I said, gathering all the coldness into my voice. “I don’t want to see our family reduced to three.”

Imran’s attention was already in the television. The channel was now changed to Star World, and he was watching Devious Maids. Weirdly enough, he liked watching all these stupid dramas. His favourite was UnREAL, for goodness sake. Before he dragged me to watching the drama, I better escaped. I had things to do with Scarlet. I stood up and left the living room with a weak “good night” to Imran.

When I was in the room, Scarlet exited my body and floated on the bed. I followed him and sat on it, getting ready for what was going to happen. “Okay, so you’re going to train me how to use my power. Make it fast and short because I need to use it tomorrow.”

Scarlet hummed, unpleased with my impatience. “You’re lucky to have a light like me,” he said. “My ability is telekinesis, and to use it require some concentration and an unbroken will. Since you’re a human, you need to use gestures to help with your concentration. To have an unbroken will means to constantly think of moving the things you want to move. These things are mental stuffs, so they wouldn’t exhaust you more than they would if they’re physical stuffs.”