04: Strange Strangers

Martha was a slick talker. She knew what words to say to keep her companion entertained. Perhaps, that was the reason why instead of going back to Little Hangleton, Laura was prepping to settle in the hotel. She had her driver go back for her to retrieve her netbook and a couple of books.

If Martha had managed to give her tons of data, the Martins, who had brought Zheira to this world, were more likely to be capable of giving her just as much. But no one knew when they’d be coming or, for that matter, why they were checking into the very hotel that lost them their only child.

Not to mention the countless of inquiries they had to face when word broke out that they had a daughter. The public wanted to press this issue, especially because someone speculated that she was the suicidal maniac who jumped from the rooftop, though this hadn’t been proven. Apart from that, they were heavily interested in the case of Zheira’s supposed father, Robert, who had been confined in a private hospital; however, the Martins didn’t want them sticking their noses to that business.

“It’s all messed up,” Laura whispered. She was lying on a queen-sized bed, her arms outstretched as she stared lifelessly at the minuscule bulb running in circles at the flat ceiling. “But if Zheira was real, things would be better on my end.”

The room Martha had recommended to her wasn’t that big. She didn’t want to be all that flashy. She could never afford it anymore. Nonetheless, it was a good room, with a glass window overlooking the wild, humid horizon, a small cabinet, a bed table with a glass and a plastic bottle filled with cold water, which sat beside the umbrella-shaped lamp, and a comfort room to complete the set.

Sighing, Laura turned to the side and started clicking her iPhone. She wanted to write what she’d heard from Martha, but she couldn’t find the right words to begin. In the end, she found herself scrolling on F******k. There weren’t many updates from her online friends. It was just the usual memes they’d shared, which wasn’t at all interesting to cover up the gloom starting to eat away her consciousness.

It had always been like this since her grandma had died. When the silence orchestrated in her wake, the void with which to her heart harbored would attempt to dominate her whole being. Just like how it always ended, she’d be lying with her chest on the bed, crying her heart out. It was, after all, an experience she never wanted to revisit, let alone thought of—yet, fate was ever so cruel that it took advantage of the innocent silence to mock her resolve.

Laura couldn’t sleep that night. Whether she read or she merely stared into nothingness, she would still end up dissolving into tears. She convinced herself it was normal. After all, she didn’t only lose her grandma, she also lost the very first person she could run to. She was more of a mother figure to her even though people in their neighborhood condemn her for being insane.

But her grandma was as sane as she was. Sweet, nature-loving, and open to thousands of possibilities, Laura wouldn’t doubt that her intelligence far surpassed the average.

When the golden fingers of the sun rose from beyond to penetrate the shadows of the night and let reign the forget-me-not blue sky, with clouds barely drifting on it, Laura stood from the bed and charged her phone. She almost reached the climax of her favorite book, but she had to save it for later. She just felt so heavy and, on top of that, her eyes were already stinging.

Sighing, she took a peek outside. She’d been blinded by the rays of the sun, but she was able to see the wide building standing tall in the opposite direction. She pursed her lips, arranging the curtains before taking a shower.

The cold that had touched her skin once again did its magic. Thousands of ideas ran in circles inside her head, one almost as impossible as the other but magnificent all the same. She wanted to write them, but she knew once she was clothed, all of these thoughts would just vanish in thin air as though they never existed in the first place.

So, against her better instinct, she took her time washing, humming with a small smile at the smell of her shampoo.

It took her no less than half an hour to finally settle back on the bed, her head still wrapped with a towel. She didn’t want to wear the hotel clothes on the cabinet, but her driver was yet to return. Going back and forth would probably take him days. There was no pressure. She didn’t want him to end up getting hurt with these errands.

She was just about to start reading when someone knocked on the door. Rolling her eyes, she jumped out of bed and was greeted by Martha who was smiling from ear to ear in the doorway.

“What?”

Martha wrinkled her nose. “Did you sleep?”

Merely shaking her head, Laura pursed her lips. “Get to the point. I’m in the middle of something important.”

“Oh!” Martha smiled a little. “I just thought you’d be thrilled to know the Martins are here. My bad.”

Laura’s eyes widened. “What? Since when.”

“Just last night. Only Melinda and her mother-in-law checked-in. They seem to be in an argument, though. They didn’t even bother to greet us.”

“That’s not much of a surprise.” Laura nodded. “As far as you have told me, her husband almost died last year and Zheira was the one behind it. You think it’ll be good to interrogate them?”

“Not before you get mistaken as Zheira once again.”

“You really think so?”

Martha merely shrugged. She dismissed herself with a hasty goodbye, saying she was almost late. She was just a bit thrilled to tell her about the news that she, somehow, forgot about it.

Settling back on the bed, Laura tried to read once again; however, she couldn’t understand a single word. All her mind would want to process was the piece of information that the Martins were already nearby. She at least had expected them for a week and she didn’t know what to feel or what even to ask now that they were here. She didn’t want to be insensitive, especially since she, apparently, resembled this Zheira.

Come to think of it. Was it a mere coincidence that the very thing she desired the most was rumored to be possessed by the person who looked so cunningly like her? It was almost surreal.

Laura shook her head. When her thoughts continued to run in circles, she groaned, throwing her phone on the bed. Fuming, she wore her jacket and stomped her way to the rooftop, hoping against all hope it would take away some of her frustrations.

However, she didn’t expect to see two silhouettes seated on the wooden bench that overlooked the wild horizon, the cold wind dancing in the air as the feminine perfume the two wore danced with it. It almost resembled the sweet scent of a flower with a hint of roughness like that of a powder.

Clenching her fist, Laura turned back to the rickety stair, deciding she’d forced the phrases of that book inside her head if need be. But what one of the strangers had said stopped her on her track.

“This is not what you vowed, Melinda,” said an old voice, almost as quiet as a whisper but almost as sharp as the wind around them. “My son doesn’t condone things that will be impossible to reach. You made him reach out. Take responsibility.”

“I know and I’m sorry.”

From where Laura stood, she couldn’t hear the note of apology in the tone. There was just this sense of authority and intimidation embedded in the rhythm of her voice that made it hard to hear if she was really sorry.

“You’re not. You’re selfish.” The old woman’s voice broke. “He was fine with us. I told you in the past, ain’t I? He is not in league with you, but you fooled us with your lies.”

“With all due respect, mother, but I already explained my part.”

“What part? You can’t even tell us where that daughter of yours had got to. You’re still protecting her even when you see my son unable to walk on his own.”

“It was an accident for God’s sake!”

Laura turned toward them abruptly and saw Melinda on her feet, glaring at the old woman still seated comfortably as though Melinda wasn’t raging to hurt her.

“My daughter couldn’t even hurt a fly.”

“Not from what I’ve heard, no.”

“Honestly! Do you really believe I conceived a vampire or whatnots they’re making up for their stupid papers?”

“Conceived? You?” In the fragileness of her voice, the mockery could barely be heard. “My son had told me of your defects, woman. You cannot lie to me—”

“I am not lying!”

“Then why did you hide it from us?”

“I—” Melinda paused, her brows drew together, a little flustered, “—I didn’t want the press to find—”

“Even us? Stop fooling yourself, Child. We both know the truth you’re trying to hide here.”

Melinda clenched her fist, sitting back down with a harder force. “If you’re so genius, then I rest my case.”

“No, you won’t.” She looked at her. “You’ll still find your child. I’ll sue her for the damage she has inflicted on my son.”

“I already told you she’s not going back. She left.”

Somehow, Laura couldn’t help but pity Melinda. She didn’t know why she felt compelled to do so, but hearing her sound desperate and helpless gave her a sense of responsibility to ease it away.

“You let her leave after what she’d done. Right. I’ll sue you, too.”

“Don’t you think you’re going way too far?”

The woman snorted. “I’ve been asking you for a year what happened to my son, but did you tell me? No. I have to find out by myself. Hadn’t I read that newspaper you called stupid, you would have buried the truth.”

Melinda closed her eyes, breathing rather heavily. “You’re a mother, too. You would have done—”

“No, we’re not the same, Melinda. Don’t just clip me into your level. You have never been a mother. You delusion yourself you’re one. You can kid yourself all you want but not me.”

To Laura’s surprise, the old woman stood. She was a hunchback, barely supported by her walking stick. Her white hair was tied in a tight bun, but it was the wrinkles on her face and the look in her sunken blue eyes that made her look so intimidating.

“Now, excuse me! I have a business to attend with Martha Everdeen.”

Melinda stood as well, her fists clenched rather firmly. “Whatever you have to talk to with that Martha will be incomplete. She doesn’t know anything about my daughter. Whatever she perceived is just her preconceived judgment.”

“Speak our language.” The old woman turned a little toward her, her eyes narrowed. “You’re not writing a book.”

Fuming still, Melinda followed her slow steps, trying to argue why her point should be heard. Laura wanted so much to just walk away from there, to leave them to do their thing; however, her feet seemed to have been rooted on the spot. It wasn’t fear. It was curiosity. She wanted so much to know what they would see if they caught a glimpse of her—and whether they’d believe it if she said she wasn’t who they thought she was.

When their eyes met, Melinda stopped talking at once, her eyes wide as she stared at Laura, her head tilted as though sizing her up. The old woman beside her stopped as well, looking from Melinda to Laura, clicking her tongue.

“Do you know her?”

Ignoring her, Melinda ran toward Laura, locking her in her arms, crying on her shoulder. Laura looked awkwardly at the old woman who now looked sour as comprehension sunk in.

“You’re Zheira, right?” The old woman articulated every word, gritting her teeth.

Laura shook her head with a rather small smile. “No, I am Laura. Laura Gaunt.”