Faults

Aya tip-toed her way to the kitchen. A small giggle almost escaped from her mouth when she saw her mother’s back but she managed to hold in. From behind the wall, she took a peek; always check the situation first before acts, that’s what her dad always says to her. She caught a glimpse of her dad’s big shoulder before it disappeared, soon followed with a creaking noise that she suspected came from their old kitchen cupboard. They exchanged words in hushed whispers, with Aya noticing a slight edge on her mom’s voice. Maybe they were talking about a certain popular crime TV series, her nine years old brain reasoned; her mother loves it after all and she once gets into a heated debate with her father with the latter said “It's just a fake investigation filled with lot dramas. And don’t get me started with that hacking scene.”

Her mother’s shoulders slumped and she leans back on her chair. Now. The naughty part of Aya’s brain whispered. She lowers her body and began sneaking into the kitchen. To the battlefield. It was like being a secret agent, sneaking around and taking advantage of their victim’s moment of weakness then Baam! --- A hit to the back of their nape or a syringe filled with strange liquid injected to their neck. Aya always fidgeting with excitement in her seat during such a scene with her father for some reason watching her with a wry smile. Of course, right now she doesn’t have a syringe nor she was confident enough to actually knock her mother out with her small palm, but Aya’s current objective is not knocking out her mother, she wants to scare her. To see her mother’s shocked face before an affectionate smile formed on her lips which usually followed with a hug and a ruffle on her head. She was tired from finishing her math homework and she wants some rewards.

Fortunately, her father was still busy searching for something in the upper cabinet. With his attention lies elsewhere, Aya was presented with a smooth straight path to her victim. Her mother, Annette, still leaned back on her chair with eyes closed. Aya smirked. A perfect timing. Her prank’s plan never went so smoothly like this before and she began to wonder if it is a wheel of fate that demands her to pull a prank on her mother in such an ungodly hour for a nine years old kid who has a school tomorrow. A step closer. Then Aya jumped and shouted with her most shrill shriek she could ever make.

A shriek came from her mother. She abruptly stood up, causing the chair to fell backward. Aya didn’t have enough time to avoid it and so she fell down with the chair toppling above her. She groaned in pain as the chair fell on her small body.

“Aya!” Annette gasped. She quickly pulls the chair away from Aya’s small body. Her expression was a mix of shock and guilt. But then it quickly changed to anger, the one that Aya never saw before. “Why are you still awake? What time do you think is now?” She yelled.

Aya couldn’t say anything. Her eyes went wide and tears began threatening to leak out. This wasn’t the first time she got scolded, but this was the first time she ever saw her mother with such expression. Heaved breathes. Eyebrows knitted together, forming a down v slope she once saw in her father’s document. Heats colored her cheeks. The whole face contorted into an ugly, frightening face. A pure rage.

“Annette!” Her father stormed between them. He quickly kneels down and his pair black eyes that Aya inherited scanning around her body. Then he turned to her mother, who was still wearing that ugly expression. “You’re going too far! She’s just a kid!”

A pang of guilt began seeped into her face. With a huff, Annette stormed out from the kitchen. Aya couldn’t hold on her tears any longer and she let it out, followed with a weak hiccup. Guilt and regret began seeping in as Aya realized she maybe had done a grieve mistake. She found herself being lifted up by her father but she pays no attention to it.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed. You have a school tomorrow.” 

***************

The following morning after the incident, Annette immediately apologized to Aya and promised her to cook her favorite foods for the whole day, an offer she happily accepted. She noticed a tense atmosphere between her mother and father that morning, with her father left for his work fifteen minutes earlier than usual. Fortunately, it returns to normal when Aya saw them once his father came home, bringing along a small cheesecake. Peace and normalcy return to their household with the last night incident never once discussed.

Even so, the expression of her mother on that day was something Aya never could get it out from her mind. Her kind mother who is always seen smiling, laughing wildly without a single care in public, has a tendency to cook pasta foods and often pick up a storybook with more dragon and sword than the traditional princess fairy tale--- could make such frightening face. She has forgiven her, of course, but every time she remembers her angry face, the guilt and regret went back. Why she apologized to her? Aya should be the one who apologizes for pulling such prank. She was often told by other relatives that she inherited both her father and mother's naughty part, which probably explains why she often gets in trouble whether in school or home.

Aya has forgiven her; both their parents and the teachers at her school often teach her to quickly forgive other people mistakes after all. Yet somehow she could no longer see her mother in the same light as before --- the kind, funny woman who always quick to forgives Aya’s mistakes and comfort her whenever she needs it. Instead, she has been noticing all Annette’s faults, how the older brunette whose hair Aya inherited often forgot her schedules with PTA, or how she often misplaces things which often lead to an argument with her father, or how she often stutters and fidgeting whenever she was on phone with someone else. The image of a capable woman that Aya always associates with her mother slowly crumbling, and she doesn’t like it.

One day Aya happened to stumble upon her mother, who was sitting alone in the kitchen with stifled cries. It was Saturday so she doesn’t have school and her father went out for an errand. Curiosity got better her so Aya approached her, carefully this time to not alarm her. Annette noticed her daughter quiet, hesitant steps and raised her head. She gave her a tired smile, the kind Aya never saw before, as she always associates her mother’s smile with words bright or even wild.

She caught a glance of paper with the word ‘Loan’ written on it, a word Aya hasn’t learn in her school. She decided to ignore it and turn her attention to her mother. “Mom? Why are you crying?”

“It’s nothing dear.” She replied, then she let out a sigh. “Mom just feeling a little tired.”

“But why are you crying?” Aya pressed. She doesn’t like this. “Mrs. Brown said an adult will never cry. Only children do it.”

She detected a flare --- the same flare on that night, lit on her mother’s brown eyes but it quickly subsided. Annette sighed again. “Then she’s very wrong, dear. There are a lot of things that can make even a grown-up cry.”

“I don’t get it.” Aya turned her gaze away. She doesn’t like this; the image she had on her mother slowly fell to pieces and she had no way to stop it. Not when she saw her mother pathetic side like this.

“Come here, dear,” Annette called, breaking Aya away from her thought. She was hesitant at first, but she decided to comply with it. Her mother’s hands, which have shown a sign of wrinkles, gently cupped her cheeks. Usually, the acts would make Aya giggle but this time she tried her best to wear her defiant face, the kind face she made when Aya was sure she was right.

Annette's face softened. “Why do you look so angry? Did Tom take away your Mr.Bear again?”

“No. The last time he tried to do it I already made sure to put him in his place.” She replied, slightly annoyed at the mention of her cousin. “You haven’t answered my question. Why are you crying?”

“And why I shouldn’t be?”

“You’re an adult! And you’re strong!” At this point, Aya already raised her voice. Of course, it doesn’t go unnoticed by her mother, who already wore a disapproving look. She turned her gaze away and mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

A moment of silence passed before Annette broke it with a sigh. “Is that how you see me, dear?”

A nod. Aya still casting her gaze to the floor. She feels the hands on her cheeks became firmer. “Aya, look at me.”

She obliged. Aya scanned her mother’s face and noticed there were more wrinkles, especially on her forehead. There were small bags beneath her pair brown eyes and her lips slightly chapped, which probably because she is not often drinking enough water despite often telling Aya to do so. Her eyes slightly went wide. Annette’s face looks tired but there was something, something Aya couldn’t name or place it that slightly mesmerizing her.

“What do you think of me, dear?” Annette asked in a whisper.

“That you’re strong,” she replied, recalling the memory when her mother yelled at a creepy stranger for trying to give her something. “and you can do anything.” She replied, recalling the moments where her father often ask Annette’s help whether for mundane task or for something related to his work. Aya put her palms above her mother’s hands. “You’re kind.”

“And there was a time when I almost burnt my cooking.” She replied with a wry smile, which incites a chuckle from Aya. “Then there was a time when I yelled at you. Like some immature brat.” Her eyes went slightly wide; this was the first time they ever talked or mention that incident. “And now you saw me crying.”

Aya didn’t say anything. She continued. “See? I’m not as strong as you think, or at least I’m not as perfect as you thought. People have their own faults. For example, you’re still afraid to go to the bathroom alone at night. Or you cannot sleep without Mr.Bear.”

“Mom!” Heat quickly roses to Aya’s cheek.

Annette chuckled. “But I still love you. Even though you’re not perfect, you’re still my lovely rascal daughter.” Her gaze softened. “Do you love me, dear?”

“Of course I do!” Aya replied immediately, even feeling offended to be asked such an obvious question. Then her eyes went wide as she finally realized what her mother was trying to tell her. “I just…I always thought you’re perfect, someone I always wanted to be when I grow up. So I…”

“I see.” Annette planted a kiss on Aya’s forehead. “Then I’ll try to live your expectations, dear. Just remember to cut me some slack.”

“Like about the burnt meatball? It tastes like charcoal.” She teased, which earned her a wild ruffle on her hair. Then they both laughed together and not long after it, her father came back and brought them a blueberry cake.

In Aya’s mind, the image of her mother still crumbling; she could not stop the process after all. However, she thought maybe she could just replace the missing fits with something else, to create a new image of her mother that she loves so dearly.