For those of you who don't go to high school in New South Wales, Australia, "Belonging" is a compulsory unit of study for all year twelve students. As part of the final exam, there is a writing task, usually requiring a short story of some kind. As I recently finished the last Belonging exam I'll ever have to do, I decided to post my first ever Belonging story.
This is dedicated to the class of 2013. If I can do it, so can you guys.
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She watches the rain beat against the windowpanes and tries to lose herself in the symphony of lightning and thunder in the sky. Each roll of thunder seems to reflect the troubles of her mind. However, the storm outside is incomparable to the one in the next room. She hears the words, just meaningless words, yet they are carried with a venom that poisons the heart to the point of no return. Tonight is different though, for it is usually her mother who shouts and screams about the honour of the family, of reputation. She hears her mother tonight, crying, wailing, asking him to see reason, to see that God is only testing him. After these words, there is silence, but for her mother's sobs. Then, the words, heavy from all the times he has held them back, and bit his tongue. "You say God hates me?", he says through gritted teeth. "Well, I hate God."
Her mother wails louder, when suddenly, there is the sound of fist hitting flesh. She sits upright against the wall, for however much they fight, it has never come to blows. She hears her father's voice, yelling at him to get out, to take his abnormality, and stain of dishonour away from the house, away from the family, which he is no longer part of. Her brother walks through the door, and she can see his swollen lip, and the beginnings of a black eye. She looks at him, wanting to know what happened, and trying to make him feel better, However, his jaw is set with the sense of grim purpose that precedes an impossible action.
For an hour or so, there is silence. She stays by the foot of the stairs, waiting for her brother to come down for their secret midnight snack, as he usually does. Tonight, he comes down the stairs, fully dressed, and carrying a suitcase. She looks at him with questioning eyes. He explains that he can no longer stay here, that he can no longer live two lives, and pretend to condone his parents' grave unacceptance of people like him. She cries, on hands and knees, begging him to take her with him. He tries to decline, telling her of the difficulties ahead, but she does not listen. She will not be apart from her brother.
When he finally relents, she too goes upstairs to pack her things. She packs very little, just a few clothes, and a few books, as she knows they have far to go. The last thing she crams in is her teddybear, the first gift he ever gave her, on her first birthday, when he was only eleven years old.
She grabs her bag and runs, falling on the last few stairs with an almighty crash, waking her parents in the process. Realising her mistake, her brother grabs her hand, and together they sprint for the car. She hears so much noise, her father yelling, her mother screaming and crying, like only a mother can, for the loss of both of her children in the one night. The last thing they hear of their parents is their mother's hysterical screeches as they drive away, her voice grossly distorted by emotion. "He's taking my baby! The fucking bastard is taking my baby!"
They drive for hours, or so it seems, her brother checking constantly in his rearview mirrors to see if they are being followed. It is near daylight when they stop at a lonely motel. For the first time tonight, there is complete silence, as he pulls her into a hug as they both cry for the sheer magnitude of the night's events. In his arms, breathing in his familiar scent, she knew that she had made the right choice, and that whatever happened from here, she would be fine, as long as her brother was here.
He fell asleep, long before she did. Carefully extracting herself from his arms, she looked around the motel room for his bag. With her tiny fingers she turned the key in the lock, and opened his bag. She looked through, to see what he had brought. There were birth certificates and passports for the two of them, letters which looked to be from his lover, and a few photographs of friends. At the very bottom, there was a large framed portrait of their family. She gasps as she realises how he has altered it. It is now a portrait of two smiling, joyful children, playing at the feet of two faceless, nameless adults, who now mean nothing, and are nobody to them.
When she wakes, the sun is high in the sky. They quickly get in the car again, and begin to drive. The desert scenery melts into a blur of colour outside her window. Late that afternoon, they stop at what looks like an old shed, made of corrugated iron. Her brother gently nudges her awake, and tells her they need to get out of the car, to do some paperwork before crossing the border. Still half asleep, she does this all in a daze, not even registering her brother's lie to the border control personnel, telling them that he is her father. They go back to the car, and she is asleep the second her head hits the seat.
She wakes later, when the sky is glowing orange. Whether it is dusk or dawn she cannot tell. She is in a strange room, which looks like it was decorated just for her. She walks outside, and sees her brother, holding hands with a strange man. There is laughter in his eyes, and happiness shining from every inch of his tanned face. He sees her and smiles in greeting, and she turns to her brother with eyes full of questions. He nods, and she understands.
Understands that this man with the smiling eyes is the reason they have left their home, and left the country they have known all their lives. As she sees the smile beginning to grow in her brother's eyes, she knows that this strange man with the smiling eyes is worth it.
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