Chapter 11 - Fragment (Part C)

Chapter 06 – Fragment (Part C)

-Aria’s Story-

I raise my arm and quickly swing down the knife to deliver the blow. On the moment of impact, I knew…I knew that I could never take back my action. But, what made this assassination different from any of the previous ones? It’s not like I actually killed those people, right? Right?

Amongst my frantic self-questioning, amongst my desperation of self-justification, I lost my grasp of reality. In the present, I am frozen in place. Within the confines of my mind, I am thrown haphazardly into the earliest memory of my childhood. It all happened so fast, quicker than a blink of an eye.

Finally, I return to my senses. That’s when I witnessed me, raising back my arm and quickly swinging down the knife to deliver the blow. Wait. It feels as if I am in a loop of some sort. No, this isn’t a loop, because if it was, why would a younger version of me be present before my eyes?

“This place…looks familiar,” I mumbled to myself, still attempting to get a hold of my senses.

I observe more carefully. Younger me is chopping a dead fish in a kitchen. I was five years old back then. Fire is roaring on a stove, boiling a large pot of water. At a nearby kitchen counter is my father, preparing various ingredients such as various spices, beef, and vegetables. He’s moving fast, as if it were nothing special.

“Hurry up, Aria! The restaurant will be opening soon! We can’t afford to fall behind!” my father scolded.

Restaurant? Oh right, this was before the family restaurant was remodeled to what is now in the present day. For as long as I remember, and from the stories my parents and grandparents told to me, my family on my mom’s side run a popular restaurant named Sonata’s.

The reason for it’s name, from what I was told, is that my great-grandfather wanted to be a musician. Music was what made him happy. However, his parents disapproved of his passion for music, saying that he should focus more on culinary instead in order to help raise our family out of generational poverty. Of course, great-grandfather was unhappy about this. So, when he became the second generation owner of the family restaurant, he named it Sonata’s for his love of music, and his belief of food bringing people together makes for a joyous music to be experienced. Though, I think another reason for the name was to spite his parents. Ehehe. Great-grandfather had a big heart but he always knew just what to do to stick it to anyone who’s against him, all to make a lasting point.

“Where’s mommy? Grandma told me stories of how mommy was an amazing cook and can cook food that can make even the grumpiest person sing. Why isn’t she helping in the kitchen?” Younger me asked my father.

I wince upon hearing myself ask that question. I remember this moment. It was when I learned the truth. Father was feeling frustrated about something, but I don’t know what. I just wish that his delivery was a bit more gentle…

“Mommy can’t take the heat of the kitchen, Aria. The fires of the stove, how hot the kitchen can become. It terrifies your mother. A week after you were born, there was a car accident. Your mother was strolling down the neighborhood with you in the stroller when there was a car crash. She wasn’t the one in the car crash. It was parents of a newborn. They died instantly. However, the child survived. Your mother selfishly left your side to save the newborn, diving into the flames of the wrecked automobile. The newborn was unharmed. However, the severe burns and smoldering heat affected your mother where any sight or sensation of heat will drive her crazy. So selfish of her, throwing away a part of the family’s livelihood, the family’s happiness to save a life! What would have happened if the newborn succumbed to its injury? What would it have all been for? Even though that newborn survived, I doubt it will remember any of what had happen on its born day! That’s why, Aria, I need you to stop slacking off and improve your cooking skills, for the sake of this family and our happiness! You are our only child, and we need you to take over this restaurant after high school!”

At that age, there was a lot I didn’t understand. Why did mother risked her life to save a child? Why did mother risk the family happiness? Why was father so upset about saving a life? And why was I the one to take over the family restaurant at an early age? I didn’t want to make father angrier, so I decided not to ask these questions. But, I knew deep down inside myself, I wasn’t happy. That was when I began to question my own happiness.

Once Sonata’s opened for the day, at some point father sent me to the supermarket to buy more ingredients. He demanded that I hurry back and not to waste any time, but not before lecturing me that wasting time or to waste anything is very selfish and won’t lead to happiness. I didn’t understand why it was selfish, just that I am to do as I am told, even if I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to make father any more angry.

As I walked down the street trailing younger me, Little Aria as she headed to the supermarket, she observes a mother and a girl who appears to be her age, crossing the street, hand in hand. Just seeing that shared moment was enough for our hearts to well up in sadness and envy. We wish mother and I could hold hands, to go for an outing. It could even be father. Little Aria wishes she wasn’t confined to a kitchen when she wasn’t in school. She wishes she had a best friend. She wishes she could be a child and have a normal life!

Little Aria distracts herself from these piling emotions. She glances away from the lady and the kid and focus her attention on the next closest thing: a doll of a dog in the middle of the street. What’s a doll doing in the middle of the street?

“Oh no! I dropped Wan-chan!” the girl exclaimed.

The girl quickly turned towards the street and ran towards the doll. The mother called after her daughter. Little Aria and I didn’t catch the girl’s name, but we will never forget her appearance. I look towards the mom, who had fear and panic in her voice and across her face as she followed after her daughter. It all happened so fast, yet also in slow motion. The girl picked up the doll and hugged it, beaming with happiness. The mom, with the expression of fear and panic still across her face, threw her arms completely around the girl.

CRASH!!!

Little Aria shut her eyes, as if it were to deafen the cacophony of the sudden crash, the screeching brakes of the car, and the screams of the pedestrians. However, I bear witness to the entire event. I knew what had happened. I was horrified, yet I couldn’t look away. When Little Aria opened her eyes, sight of carnage from aftermath of the accident filled her doe-like eyes. The mother laid on her side in the middle of the road in her own blood. The girl was physically unharmed aside from a few scratches that could be seen by the naked eye. However, we would learn from the evening news that she has a concussion that resulted in memory loss. We would also learn of her mother succumbing to her injuries.

The tragedy of that day had become seared into our memories. The mom had given up her happiness of living alongside her daughter to protect her. Why? Was she selfish for doing this? The girl went back to retrieve her favorite doll. It must have been her favorite, otherwise why would she go back for it? Was it because the doll made her happy? Was the girl selfish? I had watch it all unfold. I had an opportunity to do something. Why didn’t I do anything? If I had done something, would it have made me happy?

That evening, father retrieved Little Aria up from the police station. The police officers wanted to question her since she witnessed the accident. Father wasn’t happy. He was angry that he had to close the restaurant early. He was angry that Little Aria wasted time after he told her not to. He was saying something about the restaurant going under. Little Aria didn’t understand the meaning of his words. But I now understand the situation our restaurant was in. And Little Aria and I now understand why he was angrier than before. Little Aria didn’t want to make him angry. She never wanted to make him angry, upset, or disappointed. She wanted him to be happy. She wants him to be happy from the depths of her heart. Little Aria wanted to cry, but she told herself that crying wouldn’t make him happy. Crying wouldn’t make anyone happy.

That’s right. I remember. That day is a day I will never forget. Hearing the truth about my mother’s condition. My father becoming angrier. The fate of that girl and her mom. So much unhappiness. What am I to do about it? I was only five years old! I couldn’t take it anymore! I couldn’t cry! I didn’t have a parent to go to for comfort! I didn’t have any siblings, and I didn’t have a friend!

I remember that didn’t want to be unhappy anymore. I didn’t want the unhappiness to continue. Maybe it was because Little Aria wanted to cling onto something, anything, but she recalls what father had spoken to her earlier that day.

“Aria, I need you to stop slacking off and improve your cooking skills, for the sake of this family and our happiness!”

Cooking. Cooking is what I could hold onto. Cooking is what could make father, mother, and everyone happy! And if my parents and everyone is happy, then I could be happy! This is what I told myself. This is what I resolved inside my heart.

***

After that day, Little Aria began to study more and more into culinary skills, starting with the basics: knife skills; creating the perfect stock; mastering the five senses of sight, smell, touch, taste, and sound. After learning the basics of those areas, she proceeded to familiarize with many types of eggs and egg dishes; vegetables; meat, poultry, and fish; dough kneading; food sanitation; and of course, kitchen safety. By the time Little Aria was in middle school, she was already adept enough to handle my own in a kitchen.

However, she was still no expert. Happiness still felt far from her grasp. Although he was a bit happier compared to my elementary school days, father still seemed frustrated, and mom still didn’t return to one of the things that made her happy: cooking. Mom still couldn’t make physical contact with her family, such as giving hugs or to hold my hands.

The patrons of Sonata’s, on the other hand, seemed to be happier. Little Aria’s self-learned culinary skills may have contributed to the quality of the foods. Nonetheless, we still have a lot of work to do! We mustn’t slack off! We need to continue to make everyone happy!

Happiness. Happiness comes with a smile. Little Aria is succeeding in improving her culinary skills, but not once has she smiled. Smiling is a waste of time, she thought to herself.

“I shouldn’t waste my time smiling. Any time spent smiling should be spent on improving my skills and making people happy, and if people are happy from my cooking, then I can be happy.”

Happiness without smiling was her normal, and soon it would become my normal. She didn’t see any flaw in such thinking. Everything was working out, right? So, why should she change her way of thinking?

This thought festered in Little Aria’s mind throughout the school day, like a mosquito bite that grows the more you itch. Only, she has been scratching at this bite for about nine or ten years at that time. At this point, it has all but consumed her.

This is what Little Aria had become. A meek girl who kept to herself and kept her head down, who would do as she told and exert all her effort in anything she set her mind to, if it were to make people happy. Few have teased her, bullied me. And she allowed it to happen. She allowed it because any action that didn’t lead to happiness is a failure in her book of morals. Fighting back against such weak people who feel the need to overpower someone weaker in order to feel personal strength and validation wasn’t worth the trouble. It wasn’t worth sacrificing her goals of happiness in order to stand up for herself. There were people who pitied her for not fighting back, offering their “sincere” sympathy. She didn’t need it. She never needed it.

“I’m doing this for their behalf, because it will lead me to happiness!” Little Aria would think to herself.

As much as she wanted to retaliate against bullies and people who abuse their powers, as much as I wanted to make them regret their actions for the rest of their lives, she resolved herself not to retaliate.

“I mustn’t retaliate. I mustn’t retaliate. I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate I mustn’t retaliate…”

From the hallway outside a classroom, Little Aria’s madness began to well inside me. But her madness is my…my what? What emotion am I feeling? It’s not sadness, pity, sympathy, empathy, nor regret. I know what’s going to happen. I know how I will turn out to be. After all, I’m standing here, aren’t I?

I…just can’t explain what I am feeling. Could someone please help me? I didn’t want to see myself go through these experiences and feelings, but I don’t regret where I am now in life, well, if I weren’t trapped in the confines of my mind. Little Aria shouldn’t have to go through this! But, without these experiences, would I have had the happiness that I possess now? Am I truly happy in the present? …How did I even manage to become happy in the first place?

Bing-bong Bing-bong…Bong-bing Bing-bong!

The ringing of the after-school bell snaps Little Aria and I out of the depths of our individual minds and back into reality. I hear the sound of chairs being pushed back and being pushed under desks. Immediately, I rushed to the classroom window from the hallway.

The students were gathering their books and bags. Little Aria is going to leave school. This would be typical, even an obvious observation, if it weren’t for something that I am now recalling. Another tragedy is about to occur today…

To be continued…