A Fragmented Yet Complete Biography

In the end, Lucia still ends up in her room. The night gets colder and at that rate she'd get sick, so I wake her up and urge her to go upstairs. That may seem cruel but when I say I'm not physically strong, I mean it. I can't carry a person so it's either waking her up or letting her get sick. I choose the lesser evil.

So far Lucia has been healthy. She's cooking some breakfast in the kitchen while I'm watching the news. She doesn't show any sign of having a cold so I guess she's sturdier than she looks.

Heh... A girl has more endurance than me. Says more about the kind of life I've had, huh?

Mitch has been messaging me the past few days but I don't bother responding. Jam on the other hand occasionally messages me and he's the one I respond to. That'll teach her not to spam me.

"Breakfast... It's here, Forza."

All right, time to eat.

I don't bother turning off the TV and just let the rough voice of the reporter be our white noise.

The table already has two plates on it. Yesterday it was a Western inspired breakfast, now it leans more Eastern. Dried fish, white rice, seaweed and an egg soup.

The fragrance attacks my nose in such a specific steamy way I don't know how to describe it. Dried fish has a funky smell but I don't mind it at all. This breakfast... looks pretty good.

So we both sit down, thank the gods for the food and chow down.

As I thought, the saltiness of the dried fish complements the blandness of the white rice. The egg soup has a clean taste and aroma while the seaweed, when dipped into that same soup, gives it more flavor.

Wait a minute... what does Lucia feel about this? I'm basically just having her serve me food while I do nothing. I've done that yesterday too... tomorrow I should help with breakfast! I'm done being a deadbeat!

"Lucia, if possible-"

"Forza, I'll-"

Huh...?

She also stops.

It seems like both of us had something to say.

"Please go first."

What I'm going to say is borderline useless. It's better for her to go first.

She nods.

"Forza, I'm going to... attend the wake today."

I see. So she's prepared herself.

"All right. After we eat breakfast, let's go and catch up to my parents."

She nods and brings a spoon to her mouth.

This is the last day of the wake. I wonder... will the same funeral happen today?

+++++

"Forza... why is the funeral... like this...?"

"You didn't notice? It's always been like this."

Lucia's breath hitches but she doesn't reply. Her head keeps turning, looking for anything that would oppose this mood but there is none.

She's beside me now, seated at the exact position I once sat, feeling the same discomfort and witnessing the same lack of interest. But she's not me. She's someone actually involved with the person lying in the casket. Witnessing a funeral like this for someone you cared about... I can't even imagine how that feels.

As I thought, it's still the same funeral but with fewer people. That makes sense. I can't imagine those people attending twice. They weren't close to him, so they'd attend once and forget about it.

Lucia probably never noticed the first time since she was too consumed by grief. But now... she sees the true nature of my uncle's funeral.

Her hands are gripping her skirt tightly while both of her arms shake. Any more than that and she's going to tear the fabric.

My father is still seated at the front but he isn't crying anymore. It seems like he's ready to move on. No... it isn't just him. All the people that came, everyone involved... even the staff of the funeral house. All of them are entirely ready to move on.

I guess that's how life is. They will move forward... with or without you. It could give someone comfort but also anxiety over the future. A double-edged blade, really.

Anyway, I have to make sure Lucia doesn't take it to heart. They're not bad people, they're just-

"Lu...cia?"

But before I even say anything, she's already standing up from her seat. I call out her name but she doesn't look up or respond.

Her eyes emit a clear spark, as if something has been set in her mind.

She moves away from her seat and briskly walks toward the stage, her steps echoing against the silent tiles. The visitors' attention slowly shifts toward her and once she reaches the stage, just in front of the casket, everyone is looking at her.

Just what is she-

Even my parents are surprised. My father's mouth is wide open and my mother is just confused.

The people behind me... No, not just them... They have all started whispering to each other. Quiet murmurs accumulating into something audible.

Lucia... What are you doing?

She clasps both of her hands.

"His name... my father's name... is Lawrence Zairon."

Murmurs get even louder. I can clearly hear some of them now.

"Don't we already know that?"

"Is she gonna give a speech?"

"Did she just say father? So that man actually has a child?"

I still have no idea what is in Lucia's mind.

Without even letting the crowd die down, she continues.

"His favorite food is tomato soup."

Huh? Did I hear that right?

"He prefers bread over rice."

The more I hear...

"His favorite show is Dragon Ball. He said that even though he doesn't like GT, he still respects the boldness of the idea."

the more I get lost.

"Whenever it rains, he always goes on a walk and observes whether there's going to be a rainbow."

Lucia... She...

"He likes to collect rocks and minerals. He said that he liked to go adventuring when he was young. It never happened, so he collected rocks as consolation."

She's talking so clearly...

"He doesn't like basketball and prefers football."

It's like the girl I know who always breaks her sentences with a mild pause just doesn't exist.

"He... was fifty two years old..."

Lucia... she's already out of breath... talking constantly, not even stopping to breathe, almost without breaks. It was inevitable...

"His foster parent records... say that he took in... eight children... across his life..."

She's already slumped forward, hands clutched to her chest. Ragged breathing dominates rather than her words.

"He wants his... apples unpeeled..."

Lucia...

Your emotions... What you want towards these people. It's...

"That girl... Why is she doing that?"

"Is this a performance? A part of the program, perhaps?"

"If she wants to give a speech, she should go to the podium, not the stage, don't you think? Should we ask her to go there?"

It doesn't reach them at all.

Please stop, Lucia... You've done enough. If only... we had more time. If only... I had tried to get to know my uncle too.

My left cheek grows moist all of a sudden and... when I touch it.

"I'm so lame. Shedding a tear like this."

Yet seeing Lucia like that, watching her efforts seemingly reach no one... you can't blame me for this much.

"I... He... Lawrence..."

She finally crouches and starts catching her breath.

I guess that's the end...

You did well, Lucia...

Just when I'm about to stand up and get her back... my father rises from his seat, shifting everyone's attention from Lucia to him.

"Lawrence... My brother... he was never an obedient kid. Our mother clearly warned us to stay out of the mountain behind our house but he went there anyway. He went home with several bruises and a broken bone."

Dad? What is he...?

My mother only looks up at him, also confused, but it soon shifts to a more relaxed look.

"His favorite game to play was hide and seek."

Lucia finishes catching her breath and now she realizes that my father has stood up. Her dark eyes reflect some light, then... she steadies her legs and stands up again.

"He hated how the Oscars picked their nominees."

"His favorite actor is Harrison Ford."

"He has a weird habit of smelling newly bought inks."

"Animal Farm was the book that jeopardized his English literary class."

Like a duet... my father and Lucia exchange words, a back and forth only the two of them can do. People who have a place in my uncle's heart... No, in Lawrence's heart.

The man behind my seat stands up, making both my father and Lucia stop. He gulps for a second and...

"That man... he bought from my shop and always let me keep the change."

Lucia's nose crumples and she hiccups once, but just before the tears truly come down, she wipes them with her sleeve and continues.

One man... that's all it took.

The murmurs slowly die down... what replaces them is...

Bit by bit, one by one, they stand up.

"I asked him once for directions but he just said to follow him, so we did! We got to our destination eventually."

"He left a basket of fruit at our door when we moved in as a welcome gift."

"He returned the ball that I accidentally kicked in his yard!"

"I remember seeing him mow his backyard and when I asked him to do ours too, he actually did it. That's neat."

"He bought from my lemonade stand!"

"I recall seeing him leave his umbrella in front of a homeless man who was drenched in rain. Though, he ended up running afterwards."

Men and women, adults and kids, saying their piece of who Lawrence was.

None of these things matter on their own. They are all small moments. But... those small moments culminate in a picture. Piecing together the things that he lived for. Forming a portrait called life.

Lucia comes down from the stage and... she smiles. The brightest smile she has shown all week.

"I'm Lucia Herbert, his daughter. Everyone... I... from the bottom of my heart... I..."

The tears she had tried so hard to prevent come pouring out like water through a fractured dam, yet her smile doesn't waver.

"Thank you very much! I'm sure... wherever my father is... he's looking at us with a smile..."

The funeral had started with a gloomy, uncaring atmosphere and it ends with everyone clapping. The percussive rhythmic clapping of everyone... is the one sound that makes my heart feel lighter. More comforting than anything I've ever heard in my entire life.

Lucia... you really are... so different from me. If I were you, I would've just given up.

Are you seeing this, uncle? Your daughter... she gave you one hell of a parting gift.

A biography...

A fragmented yet complete biography...

END OF CHAPTER 12