Chapter 3
It was Sunday the next day, and I decided it would be cool to sneak out while my parents were gone with their little business outing. Actually, now that I think about it, they’re always out, and I mean ever since we were children, Cyrus and I have been by ourselves. We’d only see our parents at dinner time and on, and even then, there wasn’t really conversation because they were so stressed and tired with work that they were usually grumpy. I know it’s really depressing, but when I was younger, I used to be scared of my father because he’d always yell at me for not being number one in the class. Cyrus didn’t let it bother him, I wasn’t that strong, unfortunately.
Anyways, it was a nice Sunday morning, and the birds were chirping and doing their thing. Leaves dappled the ground like a fresh rain shower, and I could imagine a rainbow stretching across a sky, as far as the eye could see.
With that said though, it was one of those sunless days. And while most people, AKA everyone in Woodbridge, always liked the sun and “great weather” or whatever the hell they called it when it was a scorching 90 degrees, I’ve always liked mellow days. You know, the ones where clouds drifted about in their melodramatic melancholy, and the sun was hidden from view and it was just a solid 70 degrees.
Yeah, those days were nice, and luckily today was one of those days.
I didn’t have Claire’s number, and it really never occurred to me to get it the night before because we were talking about all that deep stuff, that I thought getting a number was a just a tiny bit less important than talking about our futures.
I whistled a quick little tune as I traversed down the slightly cracked concrete side walk that lined the row of houses on Primrose, which was the street we lived on, and it was aptly named as well.
Flowers, primroses and daisies especially, literally covered almost every house’s front lawn, and I really liked that, no matter how much Nick or Dick made fun of me for it.
Claire’s house was a simple one, a modest two story building with a nicely tiled roof and white walls. At least it wasn’t beige, like mine.
I walked up the jaded path to her front door, which was painted once again an angelic white with a nice flower patterned window stitched right in the center of the door. I gently pushed the weathered door bell, and waited patiently for her to answer.
The guitar case on my back was heavy, and it weighed slightly more on the left shoulder since I was one strapping it. I had brought it to, well, I don’t even know. But I knew it was important that I brought it. Truth to be told, my guitar hasn’t left my room since the very first day I got it from this older gentleman on Craigslist, and I think that said something really depressing about me as well.
“Merci?”
Claire’s voice snapped me out of my stupor.
My breath got caught in my throat. Every other time I’ve seen her, it was always at night, and sure, I thought she was pretty. But now, as I stared into her eyes, she just seemed to possess a sort of ethereal natural beauty that couldn’t be matched.
Her eyes, the color of hazelnut, sparkled like a freshly cut jewel under the gleaming sun. I probably could’ve stared at her alone for the entire day until she frowned.
“Um, are you all right dude?”
“Um,” I said slowly, trying to work logic and sense back into my brain. “Yes.”
She chuckled mirthfully at my awkwardness. “Okay, so what are you doing here?”
“Well you said something about hanging out the other day,” I stammered through chattering teeth. “And since I didn’t have your number, I thought it’d just be best to come in person. See, I brought my guitar with me if you wanna jam?”
I patted my guitar to assure both of us it was real, and that this was happening.
She laughed again at the awkwardness dancing around my face and body. “Sure, come on I wanna show you something anyways while my parents are gone.”
I stepped into her house after she made the universal “come on in” gesture. I didn’t really know if I was supposed to take off my shoes or something, because I heard it was expected and respectful in Asian households to take off shoes. But when Claire didn’t make a comment, I just decided not to anyways. Plus, it added to my fuel of rebellion, or as they say, rebel without a cause.
The inside of her house was Victorian, and it seemed like something out of a black and white 1950’s movie. Flowers, roses to be specific, garnished her walls through vases and the house held an enticing scent of a fresh springtime rain shower that I almost had a nostalgic flashback. The walls were white, but if you looked closely you could’ve seen the age markings that came from the battle against time over the years, however, even through its age wrinkles, it held a certain type of authority and stature, as if the house itself was demanding respect.
Claire led me through her living room, which was as simple as it was elegant, and it made it all the prettier. The girl in question today, sporting a blue blouse and a white laced top, gestured for me to follow her out back.
I was confused; I didn’t really understand why I had to follow her outback. Every single house in Woodbridge was regulated, as a mandatory law declared by the Irvine government. And so, every single house had to conform to a single set of rules, which seemed incredibly stupid in my opinion, but I never said it aloud.
Apparently, if your house was not abiding to the laws of the state, then you would be fined an insane amount of money. I found it both depressing and kind of funny that money was the motivation that kept people in place. Sometimes, I kind of wish that society stopped progressing a couple thousand of years back, so we could keep old ways of honor and live in a fantasy time of peace.
Claire’s back yard, while holding nothing out of the ordinary as it looked exactly like my owns, also held something that appeared to be special. It was exactly like mine, but for some reason it just didn’t feel exactly like mine, you know? I dunno exactly what that feeling was, but it might’ve had something to do with the fact that every ledge and stone and every skate-able thing smelled funny, almost like wax.
She led me to a ladder, and gestured once again for me to follow her. I realized that she wanted us to go to the roof. Usually, I wouldn’t even dare dream of doing something that dangerous, but today, underneath the melancholic weather, it felt right.
You see, I’ve never really done anything in my life. I’ve never drank, I’ve never been to a party, I’ve never been to a bonfire, I’ve never asked a girl out, I’ve never kissed a girl, I’ve never told anyone I loved them, I’ve never been on a roof before, I’ve never stargazed, I’ve never zip-lined, I’ve never skydived, I’ve never went to a high school dance with a girl, I’ve never had a girlfriend, and I’ve never done anything that I wanted to for me, and not for anything else.
And so, I grabbed on to the slightly rusted metallic silver steel of the ladder, and started edging myself up the ladder bit by bit. The house wasn’t very tall, and so we only needed to climb one story in order to sit on the roof.
When I finally made it up the damn thing, I noticed how very serene it was. The roof was covered by brownish maroon tiles of brick that looked like a dragon’s scales all the way around. I climbed onto the roof, and tried to look anywhere except downwards while simultaneously following Claire to our destination.
Step.
I zoned my eyes on her hair and that alone, trying to let the achromatic scent of roses calm the rapid beating of my heart.
Step.
I’ve never done anything like this before, and it both excited and terrified me.
Step.
I made it.
Claire gave a grin as I sat down next to her, with a window to our backs. She handed my guitar back to me, as I couldn’t figure out how to carry it up the ladder. I was a little embarrassed by that, but it didn’t really matter because she helped me and was fine with that. Although I think the group would’ve laughed at me and said something about not being man enough to do something
.
But I didn’t care at all, oddly enough.
“So?”
I turned to catch her gaze with a questioning expression on my face.
“What?”
Claire giggled slightly. “I thought you were going to play a song for me.”
“Oh.” I felt really stupid all of a sudden. “Right.”
Slowly, meticulously, I unzipped the guitar case and pulled out the object I for so long have forsaken to reality. The wooden instrument, while not dusty or out of tune or showing any signs of age, seemed to give off an air of sadness. I winced slightly, the last time I had played this thing was like two weeks ago.
I usually only played it when my parents were asleep or out, or whenever I was really depressed and need to recharge my batteries. Singing usually calmed my nerves, and making music, creating aesthetic harmony through sound, well- that just seemed pleasing to me.
But that’s the thing, I’ve never actually really sang or played guitar to anyone but myself and the few odd bugs in my room. It was one of my closest kept secrets, because my parents would’ve had my head if they found out I was doing anything related to art, as they didn’t really appreciate the beautiful things in life and were more objectively defined. That, and the fact that they wanted me to only focus on grades and school, and nothing else. Hell, they were even against me hanging out with friends for Christ’s sake. It was a bit too close of a reminder to the mom in Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother for my liking.
I propped my guitar against my lap, and rested my arms on it. Usually, I’d start off with something simple like Riptide by Vance Joy, or Hey There Delilah by the Plain White T’s, but as I stared at Claire’s expecting face, and the unthinkable task in front of me, I crashed.
“Um,” I stammered out. “I’ve never really performed for anyone before.”
Claire’s eyes glinted in the sun light, or maybe it was just a trick of the light as she nodded slowly. I sometimes like to think that she understood exactly what I was feeling, and I think she really did, because she didn’t really pressure me.
“Well, if you’re not comfortable, then you don’t have to. Stage fright, right?”
I nodded too quickly for my liking. “Yeah, stage fright, that’s it.”
“So um,” We both said at the same time, as another awkward silence permeated the air.
“You go ahead,” She offered.
“So um, “I repeated myself like an idiot. “Where are your parents?”
That was the wrong question to ask, apparently, as her gaze darkened dramatically. A rough wind, garnered by the spring, blew forcefully past us, kicking up a storm of fallen and decayed leaves along the way. I watched as the last leaf kissed the ground, and then she spoke again.
“My parents are out.”
I nodded, and waited for her to continue.
“They’re looking for college hitters for me to hit with, because I need to get better at tennis. Honestly though, I literally don’t give a flying fuck about tennis. Hell, they only got me into tennis because my grades weren’t good!”
I nodded, whether in support or in acknowledgement I don’t know. But I could tell she knew that I understood her frustration on a personal level.
She broke off with a hysterical laugh, and I could tell the atmosphere grew tenser.
“You know, I dunno why I’m telling you this. Literally, when I was younger, I messed up in my freshmen and sophomore years and so my GPA ended up being 4.0. That wasn’t enough for my parents, they thought I was like the biggest failure to mankind or something like that. You know what they said to me? They told me that I had nothing special and nothing to show to colleges, so they were making me do a sport to try to get into college that way.”
I winced at that, my parents told my brother something similar a couple of times. When he didn’t qualify for the PSAT National Merit scholarship, my parents were pissed at him.
“Do you think money grows on trees?” My father had yelled in a volcanic voice. “You were 30 points off of the cut off, you were 1% away from an A-, what the hell Cyrus, just try harder! Why are you so damn bad at everything? Why can’t you be like your brother?”
My brother didn’t even look fazed, but I could tell it hurt him a bit.
“Sorry,” She whispered. “I don’t like talking about it, it just pisses me off. I just can’t believe that today, there’s only one definite path to ‘success’ that everyone conforms to. And if you don’t take the path, people automatically think badly of you, you know?”
I nodded. I knew exactly what she meant.
I repeated her words from a couple nights ago. “Like a corset being fit over your body, and you can’t breathe.”
She gave me a small smile. “Yeah. Something like that.”
We stared across all of Woodbridge from our vantage point, and I could see the distant mountains that separated us from San Diego like a veil of darkness, stretching up their pointy claws to pierce the sky.
“You know what,” I began recklessly. “I think I will sing a song.”
I dunno exactly why I decided to suddenly grow a pair and choose to sing, but I could tell she wanted to have a breather from the bad air of the system. Hell, I didn’t even know what I was going to sing, and so, I asked.
“What do you want me to sing?”
Claire thought for a minute, and scratched her cheek mindlessly. “How about you, oh I don’t know, write one for me?”
I blanched. I’ve never done anything like that. My parents made sure to stomp any thoughts I had about creativity out of me right after I entered high school. They wanted me to be like an Asian student from an Asian country, where creativity wasn’t fostered and test results were the only thing that really mattered. And so, I didn’t think I had a single creative bone left in my body.
I laughed nervously at her request externally. “Um, I can try. But for now would the song Change of Heart work?”
She grinned. “I love that song.”
And so I sang.
My fingers flew over the guitar through practiced motions, and my right hand, formed into a pick, strummed the guitar in a rhythmic fashion as I sang.
“You never found love in the city, and oh, I just had a change of heart.” My voice vibrated the air around me as I projected as much concentration and emotion as I could into it.
As I finished, Claire clapped for me with another one of those cheeky grins on her face.
“Dude,” She sounded rather impressed. “You can freaking sing man.”
I scratched the back of my head nervously. “Thanks.”
I didn’t really know what else to say about that. I mean, it was my first time performing my guilty secret to anyone. Not even Cyrus knew about this. I felt really free all of a sudden, and I laughed out loud as well.
“What’s so funny?” Claire inquired, tilting her head to an odd angle.
I shook my head with a small smile on my face. “Inside joke.”
“Have you ever thought about becoming a singer?”
I shook my head resolutely, and a bit dejectedly as well I suppose.
“Why not?”
I stabbed my fingers into my hand as I gripped my left fist as tight as I could.
“It wouldn’t make any money.”
Of course, that’s only what my parents repeatedly tell me, and for a guy who complains about the world 24/7, I was a big fucking hypocrite for even listening to them. In truth, I was a bloody coward who wasn’t brave enough to stand up for myself, like Cyrus.
Claire made a distressed sound in her throat, and murmured something underneath her breath.
“Is that really the reason?”
I clenched my fist tighter. I never knew there was someone else like me. Aileen was close, but I think deep inside myself, I knew she wasn’t actually like me. Claire however, well she was just special.
“Yeah.” I bit out.
She didn’t say anything for a w
hile after that, and neither did I. Instead, we opted for looking at the distant horizon, where the heavens collided with the Earth in a mask of dark and gloomy colors.
“You know what I hate?”
“Hm?”
“I hate how money drives everything.”
It was a reference to our earlier conversation. I didn’t think I was strong enough to admit it back then, so I gave her a couple hints at the real reason, hoping she would catch my meaning without me having to say the dreaded words aloud.
I’m a big fucking coward.
Saying that aloud probably wouldn’t be the best thing in the world.
“Yeah.”
I could tell she understood what I was trying to say with the way her head suddenly snapped to look at me.
“You know, I’m going to write a book in the future. I don’t care how much tennis my parents force me to play; I’m still going to do it.”
She understood.
However, I winced internally at what she said because I realized she was trying to get me to pursue my passion against the will of my parents. Hell, it sounded so easy. All I have to do is tell my parents I like music and want to pursue a future in it, ignore the backlash and the speech, and then go right ahead with my dream and my life.
But I just, I dunno, I just couldn’t.
I shook my head. “You’re better than me then.”
Claire seemed almost frustrated now. “What does it matter if you make money? Just pursue your passion.”
I sighed. “Money is tight for us. If I’m to get into UCLA, or UCI, oh hell, any of the UC’s- then I’d have to procure 200,000 dollars. I mean, what the hell. How am I supposed to get that kind of money with singing, you know?”
“No. No!” She exclaimed. “Why does it have to be UCLA, or UCI? What are you going there for?”
“I’m going there because it’s a good college!”
“But for what?”
“Computer sci-”
I stopped myself. I saw what she was trying to say. She knew.
I swallowed down a lump of embarrassment. She knew exactly what I meant. I was just a coward. I only wanted to go the UCLA, or UCI, or any of those fucking UC schools just because my parents told me they were good schools. Hell, I didn’t even like computer science, and my parents didn’t want me to go to community college to save money either because it would be an embarrassment to them. And so, they expected me to be perfect in school so I can receive scholarships.
She looked extremely tired all of a sudden. “You see what I mean?”
I grimaced.
“Sometimes I wonder why we even go to school.”
I looked up at her again with a questioning gaze.
“I mean, come on. People are going to school, not for an education because that crap’s propaganda, but to get into college and to make money. People used to go to school to learn. To learn!”
She sounded exasperated, and I saw where she was coming from.
“But now, it’s just to accommodate a path that everyone’s forced to walk on.”
“Yeah.”
And what she was saying was the truth. I think schools were originally created with the intention to encourage people of all levels of society to gain education for their own personal gains and for personal advancement. But now, all we’re doing in school is trying to get good enough grades not for ourselves, but for our parents or society or just to get into a college where we’ll repeat this cycle endlessly until we get a job. Which then we will work for money to save up to settle down and live all of our lives in a meaningless existence, not doing anything that will mean anything because we will eventually die.
Fuck.
That thought scared the living daylights out of me. My chest constricted like a viper, and I too felt as if a literal corset was being forced over my body. God, I dunno how people deal with this. I used to think that I was the only one to ever think like this, that I was an anomaly suffering incognito. Damn it, and then I found Claire, and I started thinking things so freaking differently.
I literally only knew her for two whole days, and that was it.
I looked over at her, the sky had darkened even more, and then a shadow fell across her face, giving her a sad kind of aesthetic that struck me to the core.
She really was like me.
No, I realized, she was better than me.