Intangible

Perhaps the word "Intangible" is the commonest word used in my family. Weird, right? You just follow me, I'll tell you the story.

"Strange" is also a highly familiar word but I think "Intangible" is more common.

You see, in my family, a lot of weird things happen. In fact we're a whole bunch of weirdos(except me)-my father has a personal alarm clock that rings at 2am every Saturday just so he could wake up and dance. He never missed the time; he would wake up and dance with high music blasting from his system. And what's even weirder is, it doesn't wake mom up from her sleep, even though she sleeps next to him. At least I never hear her complain in the mornings, she has in fact on one or two occasions claimed that he was fun to watch. Fun to watch?? How can anyone dancing at 2am in front of you with loud music when you're sleeping be fun to watch? Well, it's not my problem. If Dad ever comes to my room to try that, imma leave his house the next day because I can't cope with that weirdness.

One day I asked him why he does that. I used to think it was a family ritual that if regularly done will keep us alive or whatnot. His reply was, "Dancing keeps my bones alive and keeps me in shape" and at that moment, I wanted to shove his ass off my face coz to me, he was spitting nonsense.

My mom has her own quirks too. And I don't even know whose is worse. When mom eats, you don't hear any sound from her mouth. Now that would have been a good table manner, only that she tries hard and forces her mouth to stay silent. She says, "You miss a star when your mouth makes noise while eating". You wonder what that means? I wonder too. It would have been something easy to cope with if she did it alone. No she doesn't! And that sucks. SHE WANTS TO CARRY US CHILDREN ALONG IN HER NO-SOUND EATING HABIT THINGY!

My sister obeys her and eats her food silently, without whining or chewing loudly,but I do not have the patience. Even dad doesn't, but he still obeys her and chew silently. When the arguments get heated up between mom and I, I always carry my tray into my from, lock the door behind me and chew like an untrained animal. Life is too short to make myself inconvenient over meals, right?

It was not that easy though. Mom would not come to my door to force me to come out like I always expected, instead, she would take away $20 out of my monthly allowance. It used to hurt but it no longer does. I don't know why. Maybe it is because as a grown up twenty four year old young man now, i have a job to call my own, and i do not need her allowance, or maybe it hurt more because even the person who gave me the allowance was no more.

Mom died when I was seventeen.

Everything in the story of my past is weird coz what mom loved doing was what killed her. It was a Christmas morning, and we were eating spicy meals like hot pepperoni, pizza , chicken casserole with spicy soups and mom, like her usual routine was, had to chew silently. My sister was only ten but she's always been this gentle, obedient and caring little angel and was the closest to mom. So on this fateful day, she was sitting close to mom at the table, and offering her water and wine when it seemed like she was choking. You see, one thing unique about mom is her laughter. Her laughter's really cute and loud. And of course, infectious.

On the table, one of the family friends we invited over said something funny (it wasn't that funny to me, but you know how mom is like), and mom laughed out loud. There was food in her mouth and instead of her to spit it out or swallow with the water Daisy(my little sister) was offering, she preferred to chew silently and dangerously. She choked and died the next day.

Her doctor said one of the spices went into her head, went through two wrong passages.

So you see, talking about my mom and her death is really uncomfortable for me, but I have to, because I need these scary dreams I've been having for the past one week to stop.

My grandma did say I needed to unwind. Pour out my mind and the dreams will go. Yes! My grandma.

My grandma is the major reason I'm writing this story.

My grandma came into the picture after mom died. She came to live with us because Dad had become a shadow of himself. He sometimes swore that someone definitely poisoned her meal that Christmas morning. He didn't care that his assumption was silly and totally untrue. He was going crazy everyday. He even began talking to her at 2am instead of observing his dance ritual.

One day when I couldn't take it anymore, i called my sister and had a tete-a-tete talk with her.

"What do we do?" I asked , "Should we ask him to go with us to her grave? Or drive him to her grave at 2am every morning?" Maybe that'd make him connect with her and start dancing again instead of worrying and groping around the house. Even me sounded silly in my ears but there was nothing I could do.

"No that will make him worse" my not-so-little sister Daisy chided, "don't be silly, Mac"

"What do you think we should do then? I asked impatiently

"Let's kill him"

Immediately I heard those words tumble out of her mouth, I started to get chills.

"What?" I almost yelled but she covered my mouth quickly

"Look, Mac, I love Dad, but ...he loves mom more. Daddy will never get better. You know how much he loves her, and how much he misses her now that she's gone"

My face read horror. What the hell was my sister talking about? Where did I meet all these strange people that I find it hard to call 'my' family? Why am I different? Was I adopted?

Different thoughts started to run through my mind and at that instant, I got up and made for the door. I was done talking with Daisy. But her words forced me back into the room.

"I have here with me dad's written plans about his upcoming suicide and willing of his properties to one person I do not know, that you do not know either"

My mouth was wide agape. This was horror in reality.

"What did you say?" I asked, sitting again.

She handed me five notes that were a bit rumpled and with shaky hands, I grabbed them and began to skim the surface.

He indeed had plans to kill himself and will his properties to one Margret Miller. That was definitely our relative because we had the same surname 'Miller' but who was Margaret?

It remained a mystery until five months later when Margaret Miller herself walked into the house in her five feet, twelve two inches petiteness.

Margaret Miller was our grandma!

She was his mother.

On the night of her arrival, she was smiling so much I started to fear her. In fact I think everything about her is unreal.

Her perfect white teeth, her black hair and her young shape and straight back, too good to be true for a seventy year old! She could pass for my sister's elder sister, say like someone in her late twenties.

I'm sure she used potions to make herself younger. Honestly if you saw her, you'd think she was a spinster. That's overly artificial! She had no wrinkles, no bad teeth, no bent back and she was very agile even younger looking than my mom was, in her lifetime.

When she came, she told us children, Daisy and I: "Don't worry children. Now that I am here, your father will be happy again, and you kids will be able to cope with your grief better".

Yes, "your" grief, that's what she said. It seemed to me she never liked mom marrying her son. She might have even killed her even, except for the fact that we all had evidence of what killed her.

After sitting us down like that, she turned the store into a personal untouchable room.

She painted the front of the door and wrote in block letters"INTANGIBLE". She told us not to ever enter the room or touch the door and she also said even if we tried to open it, it would not be there, hence the name Intangible.

And indeed it was true. We never were able to touch the door or open it.

Every morning, my grandma would go to the kitchen , lock the door from inside and spend at least an hour there, come out, go into 'Intangible', and spend another hour there, then she'd finally come out with freshly baked, sweet-smelling cakes. She fed dad with these cakes every morning before he went to work. And every night before he went to bed.

Soon, dad started to get a little hyper excited. He'd come home and hug us both, make us lunch, take us out and bathe three times a day. He resumed dancing at 2am and many other weird but 'happy' things. I secretly preferred his gloomy self to this hyper guy.

The cakes did magic. I wondered for months what ingredient grandma used to bake her cakes. I wondered how a piece of bread could make one overcome grief in less than two weeks.

Dad didn't remember Mom anymore. He didn't talk about her or acted like she was ever alive.

One day, I asked grandma what ingredients she used in baking, and her answer was, "Baking powder, yeast, flour, butter, sugar" Tchhh the usual.

I looked at her and said , "I meant what extra ingredient do you use? This seems to me, not a usual baking"

She touched my shoulder warmly and said "Happy cakes come from "Intangible", and they make one happy and young"

Bingo!!

That's what made her look so young! I wonder how long she's been eating "Happy cakes" from "Intangible". I wonder what would happen to me if i ate that cake everyday.

"Mama, can I go into Intangible with you and see how you bake these Happy cakes?" I asked.

"No darling. Only Mama can enter"

That's when I stopped pestering her to let me go with her, not that I was bold enough to yield if she said yes. I was just really curious.

One day I went into the kitchen to steal one of dad's happy cakes made my grandma.

I took a pinch and smelt it. It smelt normal. Smelt like something sweet.

I was so afraid to taste it. So I dumped it in the bin.

Not long after, I went back in there and stole a larger piece. Grandma baked her cakes in such a way that it was shapeless, so if you cut from it, it wouldn't be so obvious.

I took the piece of cake to school and gave it to a boy in my class who liked food. He was a chubby rich boy.. but he was always sad because he got bullied everyday. He was infact depressed.

He ate those cakes and thanked me.

Every week I gave him these cakes and on the third week, this boy's countenance changed.

He was happier than ever and he started to lose all the extra fat. His parents came to school to thank his teachers and gave them tips.

As for me, I was shocked and wondered if i had helped the boy or destroyed his life.

Two years later, on a cold night, i ran away from home. Everything was so strange to me I was almost going mad. I started to cut myself and went for therapy. I refused to eat Mama's cakes even tho it was potent. I refused to eat her cakes because the little fragile baby wrapped in a cot I saw that night can't be my sister.

Daisy, a teenager! How could she have turned into a baby or maybe Grandma was teasing me because every time I asked her where Daisy was, she'd point to the little child and say, "Here, this is your little sister. Now I can have babies to carry again. Now I can get married and live a new young life again"

I fled from "Intangible" , fled from my family and went into therapy.

Till today, i do not know my grandma's secret ingredient for her cakes.

All I know is, I'll never eat any of it. Or give it to a chubby boy. Not ever.

THE END

©Joyce Dammy Taiwo

taiwojoyce68@gmail.com