Chapter 2: A Promise and a Knit

    When I was five,

my Mom used to take me to various affordable tourist spots in our

city after school.  My father won’t give any penny to my mother when it comes to leisure, in short, he doesn’t give

a flying **** about my happiness. All he wanted was for me to stay home after

school and learn to do chores because I’ll

be staying and taking care of the house when I get married anyway, that was he

said. So in order to be exposed to what adults do during their daily lives, Mom

takes me to different places every other day. I guess this was her way of

erasing my father’s belief in my mind that women belong in the house where they’ll

do nothing but housework.

     One time we visited this famous park with a

playground that has an enormous slide. I played so much with the other kids and

befriended them even though five year old me knew I’ll never see them again. I

remember having so much fun until this certain boy I didn’t even befriended

that time decided to lift my skirt up and showed everyone my underwear while we

were waiting for our turns in the slide. That day was the first time I decided

to wear a skirt, not my mother. I didn’t cry nor threw a tantrum, I just walked

my way to my mother and said that I wanted an ice cream. I remember how warm

her hands were when she held my little icy hand. We sat on a bench and ate our

ice cream while observing strangers having fun in the park. Young as I was, I

asked my mother why does boys think they can do anything they want just because

they’re boys or if I really looked that frail and weak because I wore a pastel

pink skirt. She looked at me, smiled and said,

No honey, you aren’t weak. Boy or girl, wearing pants or skirt, gender

or clothes, neither of the two define your place in this world. What you treat

others as a person does. So when you grow up, I want you to treat everyone

equally with respect regardless of their gender nor race. But when you come

across with that kind of boy in the future again, punch him hard on the face

okay? I giggled and made a pinky promise with her that I’ll do what she

said especially the one where I’ll punch every guy who can’t keep their hands

to themselves.

     Our happiness were gone soon enough as we

got home. Father was angry at both Mom and me because it was already dinner by

the time we came home. No, he wasn’t angry his five year old child was out

late, he was angry because he was hungry and Mom wasn’t there to cook for his

dinner. You know, I can’t understand how a fully grown man with a high-paying

job and two functional arms can’t cook nor call a pizzeria to order some pizza

or pasta to eat for dinner. Mom just sent me upstairs to change and said she’ll

give me my dinner later in my room. When she came, her eyes were puffy and red

but she still smiled at me. After that day, I never wore a skirt again, wearing

a skirt reminds me of that boy in the playground. A year after, Mom and I

stopped going to different places after school when she found out she was

pregnant, with a boy. Father became much stricter than ever when he found out.

My routine revolved around the house and school only. To ease my boredom at

home, I just read everything I need for school and help my mom with the chores

since she’s pregnant with my brother.

     Hours after I left the house and visited

the places we used to go, I went to the park, sat on the same bench and ate the

same ice cream while hoping to see Mom. While I was reminiscing our promise, I

giggled a bit because I never told her I punched every boy who said I should

wear a skirt because I will look good in it, and no they didn’t say it as a

compliment. My punches never landed me a place in the principal’s office. Why

you asked? Well I spent my time observing people or places when I’m bored at

school and I heard multiple secrets spilled on various places I was present at.

A little blackmail saved me from having a record, but it’s a win-win situation

though. They get to keep their secrets, I get to keep my record clean. But that

doesn’t matter now because I ran away from home and I’m skipping school to find

my Mom.

     The note wasn’t the only thing Mom left for

us, she left two bankbooks for me and my brother. Each was hid under our

pillow. She must’ve hidden it and kissed our foreheads goodbye while we were

sleeping. The bankbook contains an enormous amount of money, I was shocked

because I have no idea how Mom saved that much for the both of us. Maybe she

already predicted that I’ll come and find her once we’ve discovered she left.

My brother wanted deep in his heart, to follow Mom. But he knew hell will break

loose once father found out he ran away, father will blame Mom and Luke doesn’t

want that.

     The sun was setting already when I decided

to find a place to crash. I could’ve gone and checked myself in to a five-star

hotel with this amount of money I have but instead I chose to stay in a hostel

near my old school. My Mom always talked about how she liked the architectural

design of the hostel when we passed by it on the way home from school. She said

it was her style. You see, Mom was an architect, a famous one, worked in a hit

architectural firm. But then she met father at the firm, I guess they really

loved each other deeply at that time because when father made Mom quit her job

to be a housewife, she agreed. Mom really did waved her career goodbye for an

***.

     Mom has a good eye for buildings though,

the inside of the hostel is as aesthetically pleasing as its design on the outside.

I checked myself in hoping to find Mom, she liked the hostel maybe she’s here.

I showed the staffs Mom’s picture, asking if they saw her. One answered no,

another answered that they can’t give out client information unless I’m a

police or investigator. I thanked them and made my way to my room. As I was

passing by the lobby, a lady who happens to be crocheting suddenly said out of

the blue, you have your mother’s eyes.

     I immediately stopped on my tracks and

asked the lady if she knew or saw my mom.

You were so little the last time I saw you, who knew you’d grow up to be this beautiful

with such fiery eyes, was she said. It was a weird thing to hear especially

from a lady you can’t remember you’ve encountered years ago. Then what she said

next, made my brain think harder than I did in school.

You see, your mother chose knitting over crochet, thought that was the

best option but then everything unraveled with one wrong stitch, strings of

yarn got tangled and the only thing left was to ditch the knit.

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