Chapter Three

I fold the sleeves of my shirts up to my elbow so some air can cool down my skin. I feel the running of sweat from the pores of my skin seep through the cotton of my clothes. Our helper hands me a mug of water and offers me to drink. I’ve been parching for it earlier. The water runs smooth to my through, mending the discomfort of heat passing from the sun above. I wear my hat and I go down of the chariot.

I see people flock to the town hall, lining up in front of a table as they wait to be accommodated by a woman sitting behind it. Each person patiently waits in a line until they get to be allowed to enter the hall.

“Ma’am, I would like to hand this letters to my mom. This letter must have been delivered here but it was brought to our house.” I approached the woman.

Her eyes lights up and postures her back straightly. “Oh, you must be her son!” She then stops talking to the middle-aged man in front of her table.

“Yes, Miss.” I agreed.

She then stands up to tell the man to wait for a while. She then gestures her hand to follow me. I wave my hand to our chariot a goodbye. The man in the line wipes the sweat in his forehead, locking his eyes away from the direction of the table.

I follow the woman as she leads me to the room of my mom. I suddenly feel sorry for the people waiting in line, thinking they must have been soaked under the sun for hours.

“Here you go, Sir,” the woman said.

“Thank you, Maam,” I said.

I move the door open to go inside the room. My mom waves hello to me in shock to see me here in the town hall. What she receives now will shock her more.

“What this?” She asks.

“These are letters, Mom,” I said. They were handed incorrectly to our house so I brought them here.”

“Really? You could have just waited for me to come home.”

“I think you should immediately check that.”

I sit on a chair near the work table of my mom. The wind enters smoothly through the window of the room and I feel my hair wave a little with it. She unties the strings of the letter’s envelope and patiently reads each one of them. Her eyebrows frown as I expected.

She opens the letter that tells of the location of the Kurim. At this point, my body has already cooled down from the heat of the sun outside the hall. She then places the letter back to its envelope and keeps it in her drawer. Her face drew no reaction from the letter.

“How about it, Mom?” I asked.

“Not much a big deal.” She answers.

“Don’t you feel happy the Kurim is now closer to be found?”

“I always receive that every day. Many have tried to search for the Kurim but nobody succeeded anyway.”

“But why?”

“Everyone knows where to find the Kurim but the journey seemed to tire out the people who have tried to look for it.”

I nod in silence.

“This town has no choice but to accept its fate and cope with it,” she explains and resumes reading the remaining letters piling up on her table.

I move my finger through a shelf that contains enveloped of her letters that dated back since since she took the seat for leading M’ri Kassia. I tried to make sense of the unique handwritings claiming that they know where to spot the Kurim and pledging themselves to obtain the Kurim. The letters tell the same spot as the letter that I’ve read previously. I pulled a few of the letters and waved my mom a goodbye.

I head out of the town hall. The sun has subsided and the line of people has appeared shorter. The wind here already feels tasty so I went opposite to the direction of our house to take a walk.

While walking, a see a few kids imitating a pirate and a hero fighting to get back the Kurim. The kid imitating the hero chases a pirate to confront it to give back the Kurim they have stolen years ago. Yet, the pirate refuses and the battle continues.

I proceed from the place and a group of men carrying lumber greets me as they pass by me. The men seem to proceed to build a house near where I stumbled upon them. They say my name in enthusiasm yet I do not know their names. The kids following the men wave hello to me and proceed to playing heroes fighting a pirate to get back the Kurim. I stumble upon a group of women selling fruits and vegetables on the roadside. They greet me in unison and then immediately continue their business. Maybe being the son of a town hall leader puts your name a little above a pedestal.

I suddenly remember the letters I’m taking with me. Its papers seem to have colored yellowish, signifying how much time has passed since it was first written. If people already knew of the location of the Kurim, then how did the waiting for its return turn into years? Do the people living here have settled enough for the life they have in this small town? If they have settled for the small life they have here, then what keeps my mother feeling caught up in the middle between herself and her own mind?

I stop by a friend’s house to visit a friend. At this hour, my mom must be preparing to her way home. I knock the wooden door thrice and there appears a young, beautiful girl of my age.

“Oh, Reeve!” she pronounces surprised with my presence. “You should have sent me a letter at least that you’re visiting!”

“Well, I just went to the town hall to hand Mom a few letters and I decided to stop by here,” I explained.

“If you could bring letters then how can’t you send mine.”

“Oh, so you want me here. Bye!”

“Since when have you become that serious!”

“Since I fell in love with you, Martha.”

She giggles.

“I got you again,” I joked.

I sit on the wooden chair inside their house. Martha goes to their kitchen to prepare a hot jasmine tea for us. The sun radiates lightly to the grass in their garden as I peak the window. The silence seems to draw a peace to my ears as I wait for the tea Martha is making me.

Martha used to live with her parents when I met her. When her parents died years, her auntie offered her to stay in their place so at least she would not feel so lonely. However, she refused. She was not ready yet to leave the house for the memories are here and they are well-imprinted in her mind. She promised her parents on their deathbed to be strong so she decided to face her grief on her own.

But she was never alone. I stayed by her side so the dark won’t dim her mornings away.

She pours the tea in my cup. The tea appeals grassy to my nose, telling me that it has just been plucked and cleaned a while ago. I wait for Martha to pour some tea before drinking it.

I exhaled after quenching my body with the beverage. I feel like my energy has been restored after a long tiring walk from the town hall.

“Is it good?” She asks me.

“Always. Not a thing has changed.” I responded. “How was your day?”

“Quite fine. I’m off today so I was able to rest at least. The work is flooding in the town hall so much.”

“Oh. I did not see you earlier.”

“How about you?”

“I brought some letters to my mom. They must have been mishandled by the messenger.”

“Really? What’s they’re about?”

“Just a few stuff my mother handles about the town. Funeral. House for the ill. Bad harvest. Just those stuff.”

“You read them?”

I shyly nodded. “Well, one of the letters said they know where to find the Kurim.”

Martha takes her mouth from the cup. “What’d she say?” She asks.

“Not much. I thought that would be a big news for her.” I answered.

“Well, she must be tired from hearing the same news all over again.” Martha drips more tea in my cup and adds a few more to her own. “Soon, you’ll take over her seat.”

The grassy smell of the tea wears off. “Soon, we’ll have less time together once your mother passes the responsibility to you. She adds.

I remain in silence. I hand the letters I have to Martha. She inspects the letters as she gulps the beverage in her mouth. “I thought you gave the letters to your mother,” she says.

“Those letters are dated back years ago. They tell of the same location of the Kurim as the ones I brought mom earlier,” I say.

“Then why did you take it from her shelves?”

“To study it, maybe. So before mom steps down, I can straegize so the Kurim can be restored.”

She studies the letters in silence.

“This town can never remain like this. Mom’s losing her grip.” I said.

“Many have tried,” she said.

“But this town has nothing more to lose.”

I stand up from the seat after drinking the tea. The sky is going dark. Martha kisses me before I leave.

I walk back on my way home thinking about spending less time with Martha when I take over the spot. For her, it means giving me her sincerest support for the role I am playing in this small, small town. For many people in our town, that can mean splitting up soon.  But maybe I should not be stressing about it yet. We will cross the bridge when we get there.

I came to our house when the sky has turned dark. It’s cloudy outside. I proceed to the kitchen to see mother what she was doing but the helpers came rushing to tell me about mother.

I went immediately to my mother’s room to see her lying in bed, where her skin has turned white and pale and dark circles drawn under her eyes. The Habi Superior looks to me, with utmost fear in her eyes telling me mother has fallen ill.