ONE- VIVIAN

“Welcome to your new home, Vivian! I hope you make yourself comfortable. I’ll just leave the fruits in the kitchen, then I’ll show you your room. Will be back!” Aunt Cassandra chirps with a beam on her face, and she trolls her way to her fancy spacious kitchen.

I flop on one of the dining chairs, taking in the scenery around me. The dining hall itself is spacious enough to host an extended family. That thought alone makes me miss my family. I wonder why she needs it when it’s only her and her maids in the house. It might be for the best though.

The walls are coated in dark-brown paint, with the ceiling glaring in its white glory. There is a simple LED bulb where the chandelier is supposed to be; a couple cobwebs adding to the décor. A stack of cartons is piled on the spot where the fireplace is supposed to be, and I guess no one lights a fire in this place, as far as I can tell. The windows are donned with caramel lace curtains, which cast little pretty shadows on the tiled floor. I peer outside, the silver moon shedding ghostly white light. From where I’m standing, an arch way opens into the living room, which is packed with sofa sets and gadgets and stacks of furniture. An open door behind me leads directly into the kitchen which is spotless and I don’t seem to spy any cobwebs on the ceiling. It’s a relief that the cooking area is hygienic and unpopulated by invertebrates.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to pick you up in good time. I’m sure you’re exhausted,” she finally steps out and tosses her keys and purse on the table. I notice that the leather on her purse is wearing off, and the fluffy stuff are poking out. I let that slide.

“Don’t worry about me, really, I’m alright,” I reply with a smile.

“If you say so. Now, bring your bag and let me show you your room,” she says and proceeds to turn on the interior and exterior lights.

It has gotten so dark, and I feel so different. I follow her bulky frame down the hallway and she opens the very last door, steps in and flicks the lights on. My pupils dilate. The room has only sand and cement plaster; no ceiling- no windows; just the frame and concrete for the floor and no bed. A thin layer of mattress stands propelled against the wall.

There is dust in the air, and I continuously sneeze my lungs out, as I drop my suitcase at the far corner of the room, near one of the windows. I offer her a thin smile and she clears her throat.

“Oops, I keep forgetting that this ain’t the guestroom. Sorry, and please come with me,” she attempts a dry nervous mimicry of laughter, and I hoist my suitcase up, trailing behind her as she gets out of the room, leaving the bulb on.

She opens the door on the left, which, I notice, is the only door with an antique handle. It has an aged appearance, with silver ornate decorative designs that make it feel like I'm going to step into a vintage otherworld.

Aunt produces a silver key, its head shaped like an Ace, with faint initials J.M etched in cursive. She sticks it into the keyhole, and a loud click follows as she turns it. Holding the handle gingerly, she opens the door and steps in. I follow suit,

Inside, a low hanging Japanese bamboo chandelier dangles from the ceiling, casting a warm glow. I set my luggage on the white tiled floor, and flop on the bed. It’s got a grey pillow on top of the two white ones, and I immediately feel like sleeping. I like the covers; white and brown duvet which, grievingly so, makes me think of chocolate buns. Now, I feel like eating. The walls are painted brown in woody patterns (I almost thought it’s actual wood), and two bedside bubble pendants hang from each side of the bed, looking like paper lanterns. It takes me a minute to realise that they’re a better alternative for bedside lamps.

“I just have to take care of something. You’ll find me in the kitchen. Take your time!” the lady says and exits the room. I heave out a deep sigh and drop on the floor, hitting the soft black rug that spreads out from the bed. I feel exhausted, but I’m still fascinated by the beauty of this room.

I pull my suitcase towards where I’m planted, and open the zipper. I have to at least take out a change of clothes; a pyjama probably, and pack the rest into the closet which is stationed on the left side of the bed. I probably should head to the kitchen first. Plus, I need to make myself useful in the kitchen. Aunt must be tired after the long drive; I say to myself and trudge my way to the kitchen.

I carry the last pile of dishes to the sink, multiple thoughts piling in my head. Worse still, my eyes are hurting and I can still taste bitterness in my mouth. Aunt Cassandra is tapping away on her fancy cool Samsung Galaxy S25 smartphone, and she has put on headsets to shut the world out, I guess.

For someone who cooked food only for two people, she surely has a knack of messing up lots of dishes.

I was starving today, and seeing steak and rice in a plate was enough to make me forget my misery. I wonder why I had to get to this state…

 It started last year when I was a freshman; second semester of my Bachelor of Science in Computer Science program at University of Arkansas, Little Rock. We had just resumed learning, after a mid-semester break, and as usual, I was hyped up for school. My grades were fine- excellent in fact- and I had a project underway. I wasn’t necessarily the smartest, but I was good enough to not get withdrawn. I had a tiny social circle around me. In fact, I only had two people that I regarded as friends; Ingrid and Karl. Ingrid was that short, a little chubby, well-to-do friend people have, caring at most but not clingy either. Whereas Karl was that loud mouth extrovert who would skip classes and beg you to write his assignment when it is two hours before due time, all for a treat, of course. The rest were acquaintances. So, on this hot afternoon, as we were strolling down one of the corridors in the campus, Karl suddenly chirped, “why don’t we go grab lunch before class? We got like, an hour to go. Plus, I didn’t get to pay you for yesterday’s report.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes and grunted, “it’s useless talking to her about food. She barely eats anything.”

“You’re right. She can just come along,” Karl said dismissively, as if I wasn’t there at all.

“It’s the second floor we’re talking about. I don’t wanna go up there,” I grunted, dragging my feet along.

“Come on,” Ingrid looked at me, eyes pleading, and heavens knew I wouldn’t say no to her doe eyes.

“I’m actually gonna eat today. What are you guys having?” I said and watched them exchange looks.

“Really? Let’s go! My treat. You get anything you want,” Ingrid sang and danced her way to the Cheddar’s Scratch Kitchen. I could tell she was happy. And famished.

“I’m gonna get a smokehouse burger,” Karl announced, drool in his voice. We hadn’t even gotten in yet.

“That was for Vivian, not you, Karl. You buy your own food,” Ingrid barked and continued to tap dance her way down to the glad doors.

“Ughhh, you’re so terrible,” Karl whined and followed her, with me trailing behind.

“How many times have you ever been here this semester?” Karl whispered to me, a smirk on his face as we perused the interior, looking for an empty spot.

It was clouded, and the brown and woody decors made the place feel … natural- comforting.

 I kinda liked this place.

The potted plants and natural lightings added something to the feel, but the idea of sitting in public and chewing till your stomach gets full was unsettling. Everyone was busy with something; phones, chit chat, a football match debate, menus, loneliness, assignments and whatever people do when they’re in public eat outs.

 Karl was set to teasing me though.

He was on his usual game; annoy me till I attempt to hit his head with a book or something; a mission that never worked because the guy was taller than me.

I mean, I’m tall too, but he’s just a couple inches taller.

“I don’t recall stepping my foot in this terrible place,” I replied and glared at him.

“Oh, you forgot that time when we bought chips and you almost- “

“I was doing school work. Y’all dragged me along,”

“How about the time when we bought you a burger and you wouldn’t ea- “

“I suspected the spinach was not healthy. It had a sickly yellow colour. You can’t expect me to eat that,” I countered and proceeded to scan the place for an empty table. There was one at a corner, and before another bunch of people could claim it, I zipped my way towards it and sat down on the chair that faced the corner, giving the rest of the world my back.

“I called dibs on that one,” Karl whined and sat opposite me.

“Just go away,” I replied and took out my phone in an attempt to ignore him.

“Hey guys, what’s it gonna be?” the waitress came in just in time, because I was getting enough of Karl.

“Smokehouse burger for me, and… the fruit cup. Eating health, y’know,” Karl winked at her, and the rest of us rolled our eyes.

“A chicken sandwich, please,” Ingrid said with a smile on her pretty spotless face.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” I muttered and glared at Karl, who was looking at me like I was a medieval someone from outer space.

The fries hit my tongue, and my stomach lurched. Rancid metal. Like licking a car battery (don’t ask how I know. Just, don’t).

I gagged, clamping a hand over my mouth. Across the table, Karl was already halfway through his mountain of a burger, ketchup smeared on his chin and the tomatoes threatening to fall off.

“Dude, you okay?” he froze, mid-chew.

“It’s…” I swallowed acid. “Does this taste normal to you?” I slid my plate towards him, and Ingrid leaned over, stealing a fry from my plate. She shrugged.

“Tastes like Cheddars. Why?”

Karl snatched my burger. “Maybe you’re just being a dramatic sucker and- oh, hell no, this is delicious.” He took another big bite, reducing it to nothing, and grinning at me innocently.

My throat burned. The world tilted. They couldn't taste what i tasted.

“So, are you okay?” I heard Ingrid say, a hint of panic in her voice.

“How does it taste like to you? And quit making a face like you were eating lemons just now,” Karl leaned forward, smirking and burping.

 “I don’t know what’s going on, but it tastes so bitter,” I replied, bewilderment overwhelming me.

“Well, children, that’s what happens when you skip meals like you’re skipping Communication classes,” Karl muttered.

“Speaking of which, I didn’t see you in Communication class, Karl. Where were you?” Ingrid changed the subject and Karl went on to describe his hang out with the boys, gaming and how that justified missing a class.

I understood, though. They were not taking me seriously. It was probably just a temporary thing anyway. My taste would return, wouldn’t it?

I sighed and watched my two friends blab about gaming, just like we’d always done. They were the talkative ones, and I liked it that way.

“Vee, sweetheart, are you gonna touch that Cola? Asking for a friend,” Karl chirped at me, smiling like an idiot like he’d always done when he wanted to finish my food, and I tossed the can to him.

“You’re the best,” he said and continued chatting away with Ingrid.

I sighed.

I couldn’t come up with a logical explanation as to why my taste was berserk all of a sudden, but I was sure it was very temporally.

“Hey, we about to go to class. Let’s get going,” Karl got up, holstering his black Nike backpack on his shoulders as Ingrid slurped for the last time and picked the empty carton to dump it in the trash can.

She had worn a blue A-line dress today, which had laced sleeves and little glitters on the front. Blue looked good on her. Her hair smelled nice, flowing gracefully to her shoulders. It was longer than mine and relaxed, but it was lovely and richly dark.

For someone who always dressed smart and elegant, she loved slurping a lot.

“Looks like someone is zoning in and out today,” Karl snickered and made his way out.

“Aww, poor baby. You really fancied lunch today, didn’t you?” Ingrid tried not to laugh.

“I’m taking the stairs once we reach school,” I growled and headed to the long flight of stairs just to avoid those two devils.

“We can buy another sandwich for ya,” Karl snickered and let out a loop of laughter.

“Unlike you, I have calories to burn. I don’t even know why I’m friends with lazy hooligans like you,” I said and walked away.

“We love you too, Vee,” Ingrid laughed and I dismissed her.

As much as they joked around and tried to annoy me, I couldn’t scrub away the worried looks in their eyes.

                                                                                      *

 I rinse the last plate and mount it on the drying rack. Aunt Cassandra has already retired to bed, and the only sound loud enough, apart from the little drip-drip of water from the faucet, is that of crickets and hoots of owls.

I feel exhausted.

Tomorrow, I will have to go to the hospital first thing in the morning to start my therapy sessions. I wonder what it is going to be like. What I don’t get is how a therapy session can possibly help bring my sense of taste back. Because I’m now forgetting how even citrus tastes like. Slowly, it’s like my senses are being re-painted with a darker hue, and I only hope things get better.

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