Here I am, sitting on a plane, leaving my home of the last sixteen years of my life. The seat beside me has this empty feeling to it, until a plump middle-age man plops onto it and gives me a wide grin, revealing his stained teeth. I manage to smile back without grimacing.

I turn my gaze towards the window and think, here I am heading towards Hollywood, the land of all shining stars. I am leaving my old life—my life with Mother—and am about to embark on this journey towards my new life. No matter how I reason with myself, I am still unable to accept the cruel fact.

Mother is dead.

—

It is late and the plane had set off an hour ago. Sleep was far from me and restless thoughts creep into my mind. I am going to Hollywood to live with my father—someone whom I hate. Hating someone, as they say, is a childish thing to do. But I hate him. I grew up hating him from Mother. After all, he was heartless to divorce Mother before I was born.

After the divorce, Mother grew wary of men and could always detect a gay man from a mile away. I had picked these traits from her while growing up along with the fuel for my hatred towards my father.

Aunt Peggy, my mother’s only sister, knew that I would rather live with her. However, after Mother’s death, my legal guardian would be my father. I had wept, begged and cursed but nothing could be done about it. I unwillingly packed my things and stepped into this plane because I did not want to bother Aunt Peggy now that she has got a new man in her life.

I remember when I was younger, I had always wanted to know who my father was. Mother had refused to tell me anything about him. The only person who knew his whereabouts was Aunt Peggy. After a few years of begging, Aunt Peggy relented. On my 5th birthday, she agreed to reveal my father’s identity on the condition that it should be kept a secret from Mother.

Excited at the prospect of meeting my father, I had put on a pretty frock and worn my best Mary Janes. Aunt Peggy drove me to a movie theatre where crowds were milling around the lobby. I had eagerly looked around, wondering which man was my father. Was he tall? Did he have a goatee? Does he wear spectacles? In my excitement, Aunt Peggy had purchased tickets for a movie Dark Knights and had me settled into my seat. I had thought, maybe he was arriving later.

As the lights dimmed and the movie started, the main star of the film appeared on the screen. He was young and even at that young age, I saw that he was strikingly handsome. As he rode on a horse across the desert, Aunt Peggy leaned towards me and said that he was my father. I felt my stomach lurch and I leapt off my seat, screaming and crying as I ran towards the exit. Aunt Peggy caught me at the hallway and hugged me, tears poured down her cheeks as she apologised, saying that she was sorry over and over again.

I stopped my tears and told her that I wanted to return to the theatre. I wanted to see my father on that huge screen and remember his face. That was how I learnt that my father was the famous movie actor, Boone Hawke.

Since then, every year, during my birthday, Aunt Peggy would tell Mother that we would be having a “girls’ night out” and bring me to the theatre to watch Boone’s latest blockbuster movie. That was how I saw my father every year.

—

The plane has landed and passengers are making their way out. The plump man who was sitting beside me gives me the same grin as before, wishes me well and heads towards the door. I muster a smile and give a small wave before gathering my belongings and follow him. As I step into the airport, I immediately see a man in a bright flower-printed t-shirt, brown khakis and a very wide smile waving enthusiastically at me. Beside him stands a large man with kind eyes with a gentle aura around him.

For crying out loud, I think. Is he trying to get attention? I try to walk as slowly as possible towards these two men. Once I reach them, Boone lunges forward, about to give me a hug. I quickly got down and pretend to tie my shoelace even though my shoes have no laces on them. Boone blinks and recovers in a sheepish manner.

“There they are! We’ve been fooled!”

I turn around to see a horde of reporters running towards our direction. Flashes of light burst into my eyes as the cameramen started taking pictures of us. The large man with Boone mutters something into the walkie talkie he is holding, grabs my bags and turns towards the taxi stand. Boone motions for me to follow him and then, before I know what is happening, we are running across the airport with the media chasing us.

A sleek black limo pulls up as we reach the taxi stand. The large man opens the door, hurries me in and slams the door. When both he and Boone are in the car, the chauffer floors the accelerator and we speed off into the highway, leaving the yells of reporters, still throwing questions as us.

As the limo drives on, Boone introduces the large man as Marv, his personal assistant. Marv gives me a warm smile but I give a stiff nod. Boone tries to be friendly, attempting a small talk about my flight. I give curt replies and one-worded answers, all the while facing the window. After knowing that he cannot get anything more from me, he turns towards Marv and starts talking about work.

I look out of the window across the large buildings and think, this is going to be one long ride.

—

The house is grand. Boone had given me a quick tour around the house earlier and despite myself, I was impressed by the grandeur. I am now in my room and it’s done exactly like the essay I wrote (My Dream Room) which won Best Essay back in fourth grade.

The carpet is a very dark shade of grey; the bed is made of fine black steel; the cupboards, table and other furniture are lacquered in a shiny black sheen. Everything else is white. White ceilings, white walls, white bed sheets… I feel like I am living in my essay with a Zen-like atmosphere.

I fling myself onto the soft bed and all of a sudden, I feel very tired. The death, the bad news, the packing, the move, the flight… They all must have been too heavy for my system to accept all at once. I close my eyes and feel myself tumbling into a deep slumber of dark dreams.

—

I see myself in a zoo. I must be young again because I can feel this childish excitement within me, wanting to see every animal exhibition. Crowds bustle about; happy families enjoying their excursion. I find my left hand holding a cup of peanuts while the other is holding a man’s hand. Who is this man? I cannot seem to see his face.

I spot the monkeys’ enclosure and starts pulling the man towards it. As I draw closer towards the enclosure, my right hand reaches out towards the cages The man’s hand releases mine as I take small, halting steps towards the cages, curiosity fills my naïve heart.

All of a sudden, the monkeys are screeching excessively, their noise penetrating into my ears. I drop the cup of peanuts, cover my ears and release a scream of fear. Stop this, I think. Stop this noise! What’s going on? I am scared. Where is—?

A pair of large hands comes into my vision. I can hear a voice, a man’s voice, and he is saying something. “Don’t worry, Junii. I will protect you. I will protect yo—”

And everything suddenly disappears, leaving me in the darkness of my dreams.

—

It has been two months since I moved here. My new school is interesting. Almost everyone there has one or both parents in the Hollywood industry. Everyone is either a producer’s son or an actress’ daughter. Not a single person is a plain nobody.

At home, I find Marv a really nice person and I feel that I can tell him anything and not worry about him going around telling Boone. Marv does more things than a personal assisstant. He is like the butler, the cook, the accountant, the personal trainer… and with Mother’s “gay-o-metre” (as she calls them), I found out that he is gay after all.

I still give a cold attitude towards Boone, though. I did not allow myself to be loveable nor reachable to him. Yet he still persists, attempting to be friendly, to play the fatherly role, and uses his wealth to make up for the sixteen years. Yes, I admit that his wealth could get me a lot of things I have always been yearning to have. But, I always hold back.

Part of me wants to run to him and hug him; the other part feels that he deserves this treatment for deserting Mother and me a long time ago. I feel that if I were to try to love Boone, it would be like betraying Mother who brought me up all these years and who hated him so much.

Then there are the dreams. Ever since the day of my arrival to Hollywood, I have been dreaming that same dream every night, almost as if it is haunting me.

—

“Hey, Junii, have you heard?” Melissa, my classmate, asks.

“No. Heard what?”

Before she can reply me, loud gongs echo throughout the school. Over here, we do not have school bells. We have school gongs.

“Attention all students,” the speakers crackles to life. “Attention all students. We have very sad news to break to everyone. There was a fatal car accident along Sunshine Valley last night and…”

The announcement goes on. He was a student—a very bright one, I am told—and had dreams to become the next Steven Spielberg. These hopeful dreams of a young man were taken away by a drunk driver overnight.

School is being released early for today. Everyone is in a depressed mood to do anything else. Feeling the loss of Mother once again, I feel a strange connection with that unfortunate boy.

I head home to find Marv making dinner. I decide to help him with the preparation, trying to shake off this weird feeling ever since the announcement in school. He jokes over the salad tossing, recounts his day over the steaks on the pan and comforts me as I relate the sad news to him over dinner.

Boone is busy at the studios and is not home for dinner. I am glad as I do not need him to hear my sorrows.

—

It is very dark here. The atmosphere is foggy as I wander into this strange darkness, groping at nothing but the mist.

“Hello?” I call out, hoping for an answer. I receive none.

Suddenly, the surroundings changes. The darkness is swirling with a colourful mass and I find myself in a zoo. Shoots, I think to myself. Not this dream again.

It is the same scene, the same location, the same crowds, the same excited feeling, the same monkeys, the same fear, the same pair of large hands, the same voice saying the same words: “Don’t worry, Junii. I will protect you. I will protect yo…”

I am thrown back into the darkness.

A figure shimmers in the distance. Someone I know? I can not tell. As the mists clear, the figure becomes sharper and I find myself looking at Mother.

“Mother!” I cry, moving in slow motion towards her. My heart gives a stab of pain as I see her again. I have been missing her all these while and all I want right now is her love and comfort.

She makes no move towards me but mouths something that my ears are unable to detect. Why is she not coming for me? Why can I not move any faster? My feet feel heavy, and so does my head… No, wait. Mother! I have to reach her somehow. She is still making no move and mouthing something. She is having that urgent look on her face when she is desperate. What on earth is going on?

As I draw closer towards her with each slow step, I turn my face up to meet her worried gaze. I reach out for her, but before my fingers can touch her delicate face, she is no longer mouthing the words because I can hear them.

“Junii! Run away! Now!”

“But Mom!” I cry. “What’s going on? Where should I run—?”

“Run, Junii! Run! Run away no—”

—

I jolt awake. I am covered with cold sweat and my bed sheets are tangled. Am I still dreaming? I think. Should I really just run? Not quite fully understanding my dream, I start running out of my bedroom door in a daze. I run down the stairs, across the hall, out of the driveway and into the streets, not knowing where I am heading.

The skies are clear and stars twinkle against the blackness. I continue to run, still not knowing my destination, but letting my subconscious do the navigating. I make a right turn towards Sunshine Valley and find myself reaching the road where the fatal accident of that boy had occurred.

A pile of flowers, toys and picture frames lie on the side of the road under an oak tree—an indication where the body was found the night before. I approach the pile slowly, never taking my eyes off the picture of the boy whose life was taken away much too early.

A sob heaves within me as I break down in the middle of the road. I remember seeing Mother in my dream and I feel the loss of her once again. The anger, the fear and the sadness within me erupts, shaking my cold body as I lose myself in my tears.

I feel a pair of arms embracing me. A sob escapes from that person. I turn round to face Boone who is looking at me with such sadness it tugged my heart. I want to break free from his grasp, to reject his love and comfort, and to show him my hatred. But somehow, this embrace feels nostalgic, like he had comforted me once before.

All of a sudden, the ground begins to tremble. Fear grips my heart as I lose my balance. Boone’s hands grab me and I am being pulled towards the oak tree.

Large hands… My dream… “Don’t worry, Junii…”

I am thrown in a series of flashbacks. I see my dream, I see those hands, I see the road, the oak tree, I see Boone holding onto a branch, he is yelling something, I feel his arm around me, protecting me, I see those hands again. Those hands…

Are they his?

—

That question pondered me on the drive home. After what seemed like an eternity, the trembling stopped. Boone helped me up, made sure we both felt fine, led me to his car and started to drive. From the radio, we learnt that the earthquake had lasted only a mere seven minutes. To think that I had thought we were hanging onto that branch for dear life for hours!

We have reached the driveway. Boone drives through just to see Marv dashing out of the front door, his face depicting anxiety.

“You are safe!” he cries with relief in his voice. “I was so worried when the trembling started. And when I could not find you in your rooms…” he trails off. He clears his throat and says, “I think you better come with me.”

He leads us up my bedroom and opens the black wooden door. It is in a mess. Books, toys and figurines are scattered all across the floor, half my clothes are in the wardrobe, the other half lying out of it. But the thing that makes our jaws drop is my bed.

During the earthquake, the trembling caused the large cupboard above my bed to fall, crushing everything beneath it, breaking both the cupboard and my bed.

Boone grabs me and gives me a really hard hug. “You are safe!” he sobs. “Imagine what could have happened if…” He breaks down with relief, thanking the gods above.

“I think it is time,” Marv says, tapping Boone on his shoulder.

“Y-yes, I think so, too,” Boone says, recovering himself. He releases me and says, “Junii, I have something to tell you.”

Marv brings me to the kitchen while Boone gets something he wants to show me from his room. By the time Boone sits on the chair, three glasses of orange juice are on the table—one full, two almost empty.

He brings out this thick leather-bound scrapbook and as he hands it to me, he has this happy look on his face albeit the tears swimming in his eyes. “I have always wanted to tell you for so many years…”

I open the book and see my baby pictures, copies of my school reports, health reports and my winning essay… What is this?

I have always loved your mother and you, he says. But she was very angry at me when she found out and wanted a divorce. I pleaded to see you when you were born but she refused and wanted to cut all ties with me. Your Aunt Peggy sneaked me into the hospital when you were born. And I remember holding you in my arms. You were such a lovely newborn! She has been very helpful in providing me with your growing up, your progress at school… She even helped me arrange an outing with you when you were very young! You were two then, and we went to the zoo. I knew your mother hated me and I was really sorry but I loved you so much. And I loved her, too—only not the way she loved me. I had loved her like a sister and I did not realise it until it was too late. My only regret was that if only I had found out earlier, that if I did not rush into this marriage…

So, it was not just a dream after all. The whole zoo event had actually happened and somehow, I had remembered it after moving here. Something was still not quite right.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I say, holding up both palms. “Are you saying that you’re gay?”

My father starts to get nervous as he swallows and say: “Yes.”

Yikes! I think, what had happened to my gay-o-metre? “Then who is your partner?” I press on.

He turns to Marv and smiles, then both of them face me, their expression full of worry. “Is there anything wrong?” my father asks.

“Are you kidding?” I cry. I jump up and hug both of them. “I’ve always liked Marv and to feel that we’re a family is even better!”

I do not see their faces as they return my embrace, but I am pretty sure they are smiling over my head, planning our happy family for the future.

—

If you’ve read the whole story, congratulations. You have my admiration. This is one of the longest stories I have ever wrote, I believe. I kind of liked the beginning. But, somehow, towards the middle and till the end, I lost that inspiration and imagination to write since I was rather wool-y headed by then as it was five in the morning as I struggled to complete this short story. Then again, most of my stories have rather poor or weak endings due to this problem of losing “that magical touch” somewhere in the middle of writing anything.

If you have noticed, I do not have a title for this. I can’t believe I wrote a short story without a title. Even better still, I handed it in to my lecturer without a title! Best of all, I did not notice the lack of a title until now, as I am typing this entry with the title input box a reminder.

If you have a good title to suggest or recommend after reading, please feel free to comment something.