Diamond Despair, Dusty Delight

PROLOGUE

In the midst of a not-so-ordinary day, under a sky as moody as a stubborn mule, uniformed superheroes - including firefighters and police officers - converged around a boy who looked like he just emerged from an unexpected plunge in a pool. They saw a peculiar object on the pavement nearby; it looked more like a dummy than a legitimate corpse.

Almost instantly, a vehicle came zipping down the road. From it popped a couple who seemed to have just stepped off a movie set, looking all dramatic and dishevelled. Likely the boy's parents, they made a beeline for their waterlogged offspring.

The lady, her nightgown already absorbing her son's aquatic adventure, flung herself at the boy, enveloping him in a damp hug. She seemed to blurt out a rather cryptic question, "Why?" The man, joining the puzzle party, asked, "Didn’t we love you enough?"

Suddenly, this quaint corner of town was buzzing like a beehive with onlookers, adding layers of whispers to the symphony of sirens and police radios.

The keen-eared reporter picked up on another sound, distinct yet elusive, something that seemed to be a soundtrack from a different scene altogether. It turned out to be a soft sobbing serenade, the hushed crying of a woman and a child, as if they were guests who arrived at the wrong party.

BOBET

"We're all out," Ina whispered, handing the final fragment of bread from a plastic tomb to Solbi, my baby brother.

Solbi delicately pinched the bread, dividing the already meagre portion into two nearly microscopic halves. Offering one to me, I felt the grumble of hunger deep within my gut. "No, I'm not hungry," I lied. The vision of the bread, however small, was tantalising.

His appreciative grin was heartening, and I returned the sentiment. Even clad in his thin shirt, his bones seemed to be playing peek-a-boo, his ribs harsh against his too-thin skin.

Ina, looking more phantom than human, busied herself laying out cardboard flaps on the cold concrete, her movements mirroring a beleaguered duck. Her hair and face wore the same grime as our makeshift beds.

Moving towards a nearby wall, covered in an array of colourful graffiti, I gathered our single threadbare blanket. The night had a mischievous nip to it, a touch of shivers in the breeze. Our hideaway under the overpass was open to the whims of Mother Nature, and I pleaded, hoping she'd withhold her showers.

"Solbi, over here," I summoned, patting the makeshift bed. 

His feet danced across the pavement, then disappeared beneath the patchwork quilt of our survival. Giggles rang out as I tickled him, the joyous sound ricocheting off the concrete, mixing with the discordant symphony of city life.

"Hush now, I need some shut-eye!" Ina's voice cut through the laughter.

Grins exchanged, Solbi and I tucked ourselves in, our mirth smothered into muffled chuckles. The drone of passing vehicles became our lullaby, lulling my senses into a peculiar calm. 

Soon, I noted Solbi and Ina's breathing harmonising, a lively symphony. Nestled under the bare overpass, amidst the drone of traffic and glaring neon lights, thoughts of survival haunted me. Would we be blessed with another saviour offering food or money? Or encounter tormentors who revelled in our despair? 

As the chorus of the city continued, I found myself staring up through the lattice of the highway above, a sliver of the crescent moon winking down at us. Against all odds, we were still here, still fighting, and tonight, the sky wept not for us; Mother Nature had granted my plea.

LIAM

"Join us," the voice of Mum echoed, not so much inviting as beckoning. "Daddy has arranged something...special for you." Her words seeped into the living room, slithering around me where I sprawled in the cavernous expanse of our family's sofa. The scent of the evening meal twisted into my nostrils, insidious and alluring. 

"It's time, my prodigy," Dad's voice resounded, thick with something that resembled pride.

With an uneasy shuffle, I extricated myself from the couch's cocoon and trudged into the foreboding domain of the dining room. Laid out before me was a spectacle both grand and disconcerting: a feast to rival a funeral banquet! A monolithic turkey, towers of pasta, multicoloured cakes set up like a morbid exhibition, all arranged in my honour. The sight drew a smile, yet it was more perplexed than pleased.

"Surprise!" Their voices rang out.

"Thank...you," I responded, as their expressions of joy swam before my eyes. I had met their expectations, indeed surpassed them, with straight A's, standing as the pinnacle of my class.

"Einstein, move over. We have a new genius in town!" Mum announced, her icy kiss lingering on my cheek.

"Clever boy!" Dad exclaimed, smirking and tousling my hair.

I drew a shaky breath, suppressing the curling tendrils of anxiety, and tried to let the peculiarity of the moment wash over me. Even with my triumph of academic superiority, a part of me trembled in apprehension. I glanced outside, where our vast yard stretched into the twilight, the grand fountain looming amidst the shadows of the verdant foliage. It felt not liberating, but constraining, a testament to the trials I'd survived. 

BOBET

Today was shaping up as a bonanza, a veritable jackpot! Just past noon, six pairs of gents' shoes already dust-free. Sure, the dawn downpour had dampened spirits, soaking our cardboard beds and waking us rudely. Ina's rain-dodging antics to save our stuff, her fatigue like a pesky shadow, were a sight. Initially, I felt betrayed by Mother Nature, but the rain turned out to be a blessing! As it made roads shine and puddles a danger to office-goers, they found their shoe-hero in me.

In the span of a few hours, I found myself a whopping RM6 richer! Such a windfall swelled my heart with a joy that had me chirping merry tunes under my breath. I envisioned a humble feast for us later. I hoped life was smiling just as kindly upon Ina at her dish-washing gig, and that Solbi wasn't causing her too much of a ruckus.

Solbi, the sweet rascal. Most times he was an angel, but occasionally curiosity would spirit him away from Ina's watchful eye. Once, during the Chinese New Year revelry, he was so bewitched by a lion dance that he gave her quite the scare.

"Hello, boy!" A well-dressed man's voice caught my attention, addressing his son who was about my age. I observed their interaction, noting the boy's unchanging sullenness despite his father's friendly tone. I yearned to experience having a father. I'd asked Ina once, but her silence, an impenetrable wall, left me without answers. Maybe I'd never know.

"Hey, boy! Excuse me," The same voice, now louder and accompanied by a tap on my shoulder. I turned to find the man and his son I'd been observing earlier. Turns out, he'd been hailing me. "Yes, Sir?" I queried.

"How much for a shoe shine?" He asked.

My heart skipped a giddy beat. I had to suppress the urge to perform a celebratory jig right there. So, with calculated calm, I responded, "It varies, Sir. 50 sens for a standard shine, RM1 for a premium one."

"Alright," he nodded. "Give me the premium one."

"Certainly. Let's head over there," I suggested, pointing towards a concrete planter nearby. "You can take a seat while I work on your shoes."

"Alright," he concurred, before addressing his son, "Come on, Liam. Let's go."

Our eyes met, his and mine. I bestowed upon him a friendly smile, which he returned, albeit with a noticeable effort. I couldn't help but wonder why such a privileged boy could carry such a weight of melancholy.

LIAM

I watched the shabby shoe-shining boy kneeling before my father, his weathered hands diligently at work. His grubby appearance was evident in his unwashed skin, and even from my seat nearby, the heavy scent of his unwashed body was hard to ignore. It was as though his last acquaintance with a bath had been at his birth.

Despite his squalor, I envied him. He possessed an effortless confidence that I'd always craved, an ease in his own skin. In contrast, I was held in the high regard of a prodigy. My academic prowess never failed me; I was always top of my class, a favoured student among the teachers.

Yet, I was socially inept, an anomaly among my peers. I couldn't secure a single genuine friendship. My linguistic mannerisms were too much for them, too scholarly. Mockery became my companion; I was the butt of their jests for not being 'cool' enough.

I remember a girl, radiant and beautiful like a Disney princess straight out of a storybook. Taking a leap of faith, I approached her one day, my heart pounding, and asked her if we could be friends. Her initial reaction wasn't adverse, yet I could tell from our lunch at the canteen that she found my ramblings about Einstein intolerable.

Noticing her clutch of storybooks, I couldn't contain my excitement. "Do you read Dickens too?" I had asked. My enthusiasm met with silence as she deserted me at the lunch table, leaving me flushed with humiliation.

The snickers of nearby students echoed painfully in my ears. They spoke lowly but loud enough for their derisive words to reach me, a cruel act, intentional to bruise me more.

"Nerd!" a girl with braces jeered.

"Total weirdo," a boy with a gap-toothed smile added, setting off a chorus of laughter.

Five years into public school, I had yet to make a genuine friend. I was a solitary figure in a sea of faces. The unwavering love from my parents was a salve, but it was hardly enough. Dark thoughts plagued me, questioning my existence.

"Alright, Sir. I'm done!" The shoe boy's cheerful voice broke through my brooding thoughts.

"Excellent job!" Dad praised, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he admired his polished shoes. There was no denying it; the boy had a talent.

The smile that split his grimy face showed off yellowed teeth contrasting starkly with his sun-scorched skin. Dad reached into his pocket, retrieving some money and handed it over to the boy.

He looked shocked at the sum. "Sir, it's only RM1."

"Take it," Dad insisted.

"Really?" His surprise was genuine.

Dad simply nodded in response. A joyful whoop escaped from the boy as he jumped up and down, his happiness unfiltered. I watched him, my heart heavy. His pure, unadulterated joy was something I longed for. How could he be so happy in his life, while I, the supposedly gifted one, lived a life steeped in envy and sadness?

BOBET

Cheerful grins were the badges we wore, as we perched cross-legged in a merry-go-round on the hard-hearted concrete. Our abode for the night was an out-of-service bus shelter, nestled under the shadow of a nearby bridge. This wasn't our first soiree here; it was our preferred choice for shelter, its generous roof offering the respite of dryness, its space a relative luxury for our slumber. Our routine was to vacate just before the crack of dawn when bleary-eyed commuters would begin their vigil for buses.

Our joy, however, didn't stem from the concrete canopy. No, it was the aromatic banquet that lay before us. Turns out, today had been kind to Ina. Her dish-washing gig had yielded its due and a successful excursion with Solbi to raid the city's refuse yielded a bounty of recyclable cans. Coupled with my own earnings, we had secured ourselves the mouth-watering reward of three grilled chicken wings and a roast fish. Who needed the promise of heaven when we had a taste of it here on earth?

"Don't finish it all off!" Ina cautioned. "We need some for the morning."

I nodded in agreement, although I noticed Solbi still engrossed in his feast. I poked at his belly, inducing peals of laughter that expelled chewed-up bits of fish in a comical spray. The sight was irresistible, and I found myself consumed by a fit of laughter as well.

"Enough! You're wasting the food!" Ina chastised, bringing our mirth to an abrupt end.

We complied, albeit suppressing the remnants of our shared laughter.

"Alright, that's enough, champ," I advised Solbi, who looked ready to protest. Knowing he had little choice, he handed over the fish to me. I secured our remaining feast in a plastic bag, binding it with rubber bands.

With the persistent menace of pests and strays, protecting our food was crucial. I put the bag in a box to stash under my blanket once I bedded down for the night.

Occasionally, I'd wonder why my lot in life wasn't a normal family, a secure home, or education. Yet, recalling the wealthy but unhappy boy from earlier, I'd realise my life wasn't so grim.

Observing Ina setting up our cardboard bed, Solbi engrossed in childlike fascination with pebbles, and the hush of drain water under the bridge, I felt a deep gratitude for our continued existence.

LIAM

I was sprawled on the plush cushions of my bed, my gaze fixed on the imitation stars projected onto the ceiling above. The lamp, a birthday gift from Mum for my fourth year, its tiny bulbs shaped like celestial bodies. Back then, my love for astronomy was all-consuming. 

Time, I realised, was indiscernible when your mind was caught in an inescapable web of thoughts, and your eyes were absorbed by artificial galaxies. The day's misfortunes seemed to loom large, cast long shadows that wouldn't let sleep claim me. Our sojourn to the hair salon, where Mum was being pampered, had turned sour when we realised her session was far from over. 

We, Dad and I, had retreated to the prescribed waiting area. The leather of freshly shined shoes still ripe in my nostrils, I sought refuge in the world inside my phone. A quick glance at my Instagram account and the fall was stark and undeniable. My follower count had plummeted, from 59 to an alarming 5. It was as if my obsession with the cosmos had become my undoing, driving my school peers away. Each starry infographic and celestial snapshot now appeared as potential culprits.

Rage flared within me, a stark contrast to the quiet twinkling of the faux-stars. Impulsively, I reached for the lamp, pulling the plug on the galaxy above. A surge of destructive urge pulsed through me. I blamed the stars, the celestial objects I loved, for my ostracization. 

The looming reality of Monday and the impending monthly test added to the weight in my heart. I knew it would be yet another day of painful solitude, mockery, and derision. God, I questioned, why did I have to endure this existence?

The books, lined in rows on my shelves, had always been my sanctum. They were the one source of joy in my life, a passion my parents had happily fueled. Pulling a random title, a familiar one — 'A Tale of Two Cities' — my heart sank even further. The very words seemed a stark reminder of the girl who had deserted me. My love for reading, like the stars, had seemingly betrayed me. 

Life felt overwhelmingly unfair. I remembered the shoe-shine boy from this morning, his face a mix of grime and radiant joy despite his hardships. The stark contrast of his happiness against my privileged but miserable existence seemed to amplify my despair, making me loathe my life all the more.

I perched on the edge of my bed, working to silence the nagging whispers in my mind. They echoed claims of worthlessness, stupidity, and isolation. Then, a thought sparked. There seemed to be just one path, one way to halt their incessant chatter. Rising to my feet, determination flooded through me. I had a plan.

BOBET

I drank in the scene around me, catching the air deep in my lungs. But just as I was settling into the peace, a harsh splash shattered the calm, sounding off from a nearby drain. Like something heavy had fallen into it. I thought about nudging Ina awake to ask her about it, but she was already lost to dreamland, Solbi snuggled into her arms, also snoozing. 

Driven by a stubborn itch of curiosity, I pushed myself up and bolted for the bridge. 

Once I hit the bridge, I looked down. That's when I saw him. I don't know what the hell made me do it. Maybe it was how his arms thrashed in the water, like some overexcited dancer. Or maybe it was because he seemed oddly familiar. But for whatever damn reason, I just jumped in.

EPILOGUE

A different siren then let out a sound, something of a baritone compared to the previous soprano sirens. An ambulance rolled up to the kerb, splashing the surroundings with disco-red lights. Out of this mobile first-aid box hopped a trio of paramedics, who made a beeline for the demised boy sprawled on the asphalt.

The reporter saw this as an ideal moment for a quick brainstorming session. He began scribbling down a confounding conundrum of questions in his trusty notepad. Was our soggy protagonist a bridge diver, gone terribly wrong, or was he just the victim of an unfortunate tumble? What was his name, and what was his nocturnal mission? Who was the pavement sleeper, and what was the story of the dirt-streaked cryers?

However, in the middle of this investigative flurry, an interruption stronger than a referee's whistle called time on the activity of the crowd. Even the reporter, the cops, the fire tamers, and the gossip-hungry spectators froze like popsicles.

A strong, youthful voice echoed across the scene, only to be followed by a bout of coughing so fierce, it almost turned into a vomit volcano. Then, rising above the hush of the crowd, a paramedic triumphantly announced, "He’s back!" The words hung in the air, suggesting a dramatic shift in the reporter's forthcoming bulletin.