Chapter 1 - Moving Out

2765 Words
It was amazing. The hot rays of the sun as it hit the car whose structure has already been tested by time, with its rough paint, its faded red color and its holed seats, was able to make me awake throughout the whole trip. A rural setting was where we were going to move. Far away from the buzzing city with its towering skyscrapers and faceless busy bees My father drove with the experience of an easy goer, his lips whistling an old familiar tune from my youth. He had a stubborn stubble, blue eyes, and a rough face. However, he was smiling. His eyes shone as he drove and imagined about the possibilities that we can find in this small town. He was of tall height, with 6 feet. He was an ectomorph, having a lean and thin body. My mother wasn't any different, only smaller (5’8). She also had blue eyes, blonde hair, well-defined features, and an alto voice. “Isn't the name just catchy?” he says, as we are welcomed by a big sign that said, “Welcome to Bedfield, Home of Winter and Spring". I looked out the window and saw a wide array of flowers in the distant field that contained no houses or any signs of people. Yellow, radiant sunflowers, blue and exotic orchids, and even a sprinkle of forget-me-nots, showing a clear sign of spring and life. The sky was also blue. It was straight out of a painting. It was relaxing, calm and colorful. “It's pretty here.” I say. “Well I picked the place especially because of its nature.” Dad says To this, Mom reacted. “Without thinking, might I add.” She says, with a slight frown. Dad reacts to this by whistling louder, to mute mom's negativityand disruptive aura. Dad and Mom were like a cat and dog, but only with the legal bond. Maybe they were really sweet back in the days, or the Honeymoon phase. But, just like any other 40-year-old couple, they're starting to have more fights now. I continue to stare at the view. I can only think of the photo possibilities. To this, I brought out my old camera. Its black color is chipping away and its screen is slightly cracked, for I used it for about five years by now. Since my youth, I was always interested in photography. I started with blurry pictures with no motifs, then I moved to portrait and making my hand still, then I moved to landscape and capture the most beautiful of sights, and then now, I was interested in having a story within a photo, kind of like a philosophical photo capable of sending a message when seen. I can put different moods to it by adjusting the lighting, capturing on perfect time, and picking a good subject. To add a picture to my portfolio, I rolled down the squeaky window and I took my camera out. Rotating the lenses, I breathed for a second, stilled my hand, and shot. It came out looking really fresh, with an overall color motif of yellow, blue, and green. The next one was a picture of the front seats, with Dad driving and Mom talking on the phone. They were against the sun, making them have a silhouette effect. It was great, and it had a nostalgic feeling. “Odee, you do not take pictures of me while I'm talking.” Mom says, with a small laugh. As she says this, I took another picture. This time, the photo looks happy, with her eyes a little bit closing. “You have the best sense of obedience.” Dad says, smiling. “I remember, Grandma says I took it from you.” “I’m going to drop you here.” Dad says, as I took my first step in the concrete pavement of Bedfield. This part was the commercial district and I was in the mall part. “We’ll come back at 7:30. Adjust yourself. Don't get lost!” Dad says with a wave. He opens the engine and goes off into the rural town. The odor of the smoke, with the belcher rarely cleaned, fumed, making me step aside. The surroundings of this part of the city was simple. The mall was in the middle of four bumpy roads in a cross direction which was branched from it. The sidewalks was teeming with colorful shops that promised a wide array of different merchandise and cafes and restaurants that radiated an aura of merriment and ease. The mall looks simple. It had a 2000's design, with large glass windows, basic construction, and a slightly aging “Bedfield Mall” sign. With the sunset arriving, its orange rays shining sadly in the back of the mall, I took a photo quickly, as to not attract attention from anyone. The photo came out looking a bit gloomy, mainly because of the sunset. It was alright though, because the town looked dreary anyways. The picturesque view became a sad painting at night, mainly because of the lack of lights. It was fine by me. Provincial life suited me, I think. A strong, April wind came, its cool rays hitting the side of my face. It felt like a gentle touch, with an aroma of flowers and country. A testimony to the slogan of the town. I rubbed the sides of my elbows and huffed a warm, long breath. I went inside the mall after being greeted and inspected by this nice, huge, and blonde mature man. Inside, shops lined together with varying colors, blue, neon pink, yellow, and other shades that were nauseating but wonderful to see. I was not in the mood for shopping though, so I immediately went to see a good view. The first floor was lined with restaurants and food-related products. One shop named Darby’s offered Ice Cream, with a large cookies and cream picture outside of the shop. My favorite. There was also a shop named Smurp-Purp that offered juices, sodas and different kinds of drinks. The second floor was lined with clothes. Designer bags, shoes, and other garments. I passed through it without a long look. I want to be comfortable first before burning my money for the glorious offers of capitalism. The third floor, which is the highest, was exactly what I was looking for. On the right side was a big arcade, with noisy game sounds, flashing lights, and cheerful goers. It had a 90’s arcade vibe, with the games still being too pixelized. One kid was playing with a machine that had a joystick and two characters battling with lasers. I’d love to take a picture of that, to capture innocence, but it can also make me look weird. In one hand, she held a bubblegum flavored, I assume, ice cream and on the other, she was struggling to fight digitally. She lost though. Poor ice cream girl. On the left side was the electronics side. Dozens of cellphone, cameras, and gadget shops were lined, each promising a wide array of possible phones. It's a good thing my phone's still good, quite a contrast compared to almost everything we owned in the house. The space in front of the stairs was the real deal, though. One side of the mall, which was supposed to be for walls, were replaced with glass windows. It gave a view of the city, which I assumed looked good during sunny days. Obviously, it wasn’t as good as the time I was in now because of the fact that barely any lights was present in the city. It was calming yet creepy at the same time. The light of the sun was a violent red and black now, with the moon approaching. I went near the windows, took out my camera, breathed deeply, stilled, and took a photo. I chose an angle in where the whole view can be seen. I immediately looked at the digital result. It became another sad photo, but this time, it looked better. It had the mood of peaceful sunset in a rural setting, which was what was perfectly in front of me right now. As I observed the details of my photo, I was able to see a huge structure with blurry details and dark shadows. I zoomed on it to be able to see it better. It was blurry though, so I decided to look through the window. From far away, there stood a big building with the sign “B_DFIEL_ THEATER” in ruined, decrepit letters. An abandoned theater. It had ornate carvings on the side, with stone gargoyles on the side. It looked like it was grand on its prime days, but now a bitter reminder of the death of its art. It was painted red, which was already drooping due to the lack of care. And then on, I promised to go to that place someday. Not right now, when I was still uncomfortable, but someday. A piece of art like this cannot go unnoticed, especially by my eager eyes and excited camera. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “We're home” Dad declares as we walk out from the vintage car. It was now very dark, about 8:30 PM, I guess. Our new house was located in the middle of the forest, with a distant neighbor on the right side and an open field on the left side. Our fences were trees and our main light the one in the porch, with a strong yellowish brightness. The house was rural too, I observed. It was made with wood, with two floors. Perfect for a three-person family with minimal budget and barely any interaction, I guess. It had a rustic feeling, with a porch on the front, many windows, and a small chimney. “You like it?” Dad asks, clearly waiting for a positive response. Dad bought the house after we were evicted out of our apartment back in the city. I was shocked when I saw the large, red eviction notice on our front door, but not as much as Dad. He was staring at the large, brown door while in the hallway, with an empty face and droopy posture. It was because of his job firing, from a former common office worker to a stay-at-home dad. “Yes, I love it actually.” I say, to make him happy. Ever since then, he loved his guitar more than Mom and me. He would go back to his youth, pressing the chords and strumming the strings with vigor. His loud, uncaring voice was annoying for Mom of course, with her complaining about why he wasn't looking for job. The light drained out of father's eyes slowly since the day we were evicted and Mom looked for a job for her own. We lived at my Aunt’s home near our apartment for a while, before Dad decided to buy this house with his remaining funds. “Well then, what do we have for dinner?” Dad says as we enter. I entered the house and was welcomed by a tiny hallway that had a simple peach wallpaper, with no decorations. It lead to a wooden door that was simply designed with a spiral motif. It was plain dark brown, with an evident aged look. I opened the door and was welcomed into the kitchen, which was separate from the other rooms. “Odee, take a seat. The one you take right now will be yours always, okay?” She says as she was stirring a soup. The kitchen was comfy, with a tiled counter that barely contained any dirt, an oven with a modern burner (electrically-run I guess, the first sign of modernization I saw this day), and a long wooden table with no decorations at all. It had three white Chinese bowls, with traditional Cantonese writings on it. The walls were decorated with the color red, which was fitting for the expected lively mood during dinners. The thing is, we don’t do this often and I’m pretty sure this will not last. A smell of soup with sautéed garlics and onions, cheese, salt, and pork wafted in the air. It was Sundane family recipe, cheesy pork soup. Memories of my time at my grandma’s place in the city flashed, with her making sure to fatten me up during summer vacations. She was a sweet woman, but a meticulous one. Definitely not like my parents, who acted like kids. “I'm picking this seat” I said, taking the seat in the short side of the table. “Well that's weird if we're only three in the family.” Dad says, as he takes one of the long side of the table. “I thought I get to pick my seat” “Honey, sit in front of dad, please.” Mom says to end the conversation. So much for Take a seat. A planned table seating already without my consent. Mom picks the pan and puts it in the middle of the table as I sat in front of dad. The chairs were wooden and screeched when I dragged it. “Attitude.” Dad tests me. I wanted to roll my eyes but this was supposed to be my first dinner with them in a long time and I didn't want to ruin it. We all got a generous amount of the soup. The pork was fried before being put on the soup, I’m guessing, because of the crunchiness and flavor. The soup wasn’t bad, but Grandma could’ve done better. It was sweet and salty in a balanced way. “Frances, you have to admit, the place is nice, right?” Dad asks, while drinking his first spoonful. Mom looks at him meaningfully and answered, “Yes but-“ “Great! Your cooking is good too.” Dad interrupts. Shit. I thought. This was already going to be ruined. Can't they notice the sacrifice I made by not rolling my eyes. I wish that they can be thoughtful sometimes. “Yes, Mom?” I ask her to continue. “Thank you for that, Odee. The place is great, with the rural setting and all, however, it doesn’t really work for my job, I guess. I’ll have to drive one hour a day to get to work.” Mom complains gently. Dad stares at the middle of the table. “But atleast we have a good home.” He replies quietly and takes another spoonful. I wasn’t letting this opportunity go to waste so I quickly changed the topic. “What school am I getting on, anyways?” I asked. I made three admission letters for the only three schools in this place. Bedfield School, William Chastity Memorial, and Wellington Institute. To this, Mom smiled, “Bedfield School.” It was the biggest one of the three and the only public one. I remembered its brown, stone type of construction and its big size from the internet photo. “I heard that it’s nice there” She continues, “Plus, it’s the nearest to our house.” Well, at least now, I have a school secured. Next would be knowing the town, finding a spot to take photos, and filling up my album. With the city's general design, the former light-filled and active album will now be filled with moody and natural shots of spring, small houses, and sunsets. “Hurry up now, I'm going to work after this.” Mom says. I've just remembered, this is one of the main reasons why we don’t do this often. Both Dad and Mom worked and works, respectively, at night shift. Mom works as a pharmacist’s assistant even though she does not have any medicine background. Faked her resume, I’m guessing. Weirdly though, she’s always called by her boss even though their job is medicinally related. Mostly because she makes her go to work even at free times, to which Mom lazily complies, only to keep us all with a roof above our heads. I took one spoonful and excused myself, “Where’s my room?” “It's above, the left one. We take the right one.” Mom says as she and Dad were discussing about local spots, which I'm sure they'll never go to anyways.
Free reading for new users
Scan code to download app
Facebookexpand_more
  • author-avatar
    Writer
  • chap_listContents
  • likeADD