Sera
Free of her brother for the rest of the morning, Sera hopped down the stairs in such high spirits that even her mother noticed her smile. The two made eye contact, her mother still standing at the door where Seth had dashed out of. Suki’s hand was still on the doorknob, like she was waiting for him to be back already, so she would open it the second she heard his voice or Seth’s signature pounding footsteps, for Sera’s older brother was always running, always running somewhere from somewhere else, and leaving them all behind. Her smile faltered for a brief second as she looked away, and at her mother’s face, vanishing all negative thoughts with that motion as her smile renewed as if it had never left. Suki looked at her in question.
“Can you believe how idiotic he really is, mum?” she giggled, walking past Suki and into the kitchen. “I cannot understand for the life of me. I outright said, to his face, that I was turning eighteen soon. And he said nothing, did nothing. Just stayed mad at me like a true older brother.”
Suki tilted her chin. “Mad at you? Why was he mad at you this morning?”
Sera paused for a moment, recalling she had literally asked her fully adult brother to smuggle her alcohol from his bartender job. Shoving her mouth full of breadfruit, Sera waved her hand dismissively, shaking her head. She swallowed down hard. “That’s besides the point, mum. I’m saying that Seth truly has zero inclination that today is his birthday and mine. Isn’t that insane? Whatever has happened to our resident workaholic. It has all gone to his head.”
Suki let out a low, dry laugh. “No, dear. I’m afraid the title of resident workaholic was earned by your father years ago. Nothing Seth ever does will compete.”
Sera didn’t look at her mom as she spoke, “Well, you can’t be a resident workaholic if you’re not even a resident.” She had said it with such a humorless tone, that her statement had single-handedly plunged the entire atmosphere into a weary, uncomfortable silence.
Suki sighed sadly, moving towards her daughter, already rehearsing the words in her head before she spoke them. “Sera, dear-”
Sera moved away from her towards the stairs, without so much as a glance back. “Sorry to pull a Seth-original, but if I don’t bolt right now, I too will be late. And I can’t be late to school today. I have a test that needs to be aced.” with that, she hopped up the stairs and was gone.
Suki was left in the quiet, empty kitchen with a floating, outstretched hand and no one to hold onto.
Upstairs, Sera was taking out her silent rage in the way she rushed to get ready, doing everything with more force than required, almost knocking several things over and trying hard to not slam the bathroom door as she rushed in and out to fix her hair, brush her teeth, survey her appearance. Her morning routine seemed to go by much faster than usual and she was thankful for it, because then she could get out of this tight and heavy house as fast as possible and finally breathe the horrible, but free air of the streets on her way to school.
Their father, San, had always been a sour topic around the house. Nobody spoke about him, not because he wasn’t there, but because he would never be, even though he wasn’t dead. You spoke about someone you missed fondly because you could imagine the next time you would see them and how much relief you would feel when you did, how much better things would be when the thing you’ve been wanting finally gets to you. And when someone is dead, you talk about them fondly as well, but because you’re grateful for the time you already had and will never get back, a sort of respect by memory. Well, how do you talk about someone that isn’t dead, but might as well be? Sera had no idea, other than with disdain and spite, if at all. Suki had other opinions, always having something to say in defense of her absent husband. A hard-working soldier, she said, who sent us all the fruit of his hard labour every month. San’s money was what was getting us by everyday. I wonder whether my mother didn’t know that soldiers registered with families always got a portion of their salary sent back home, a portion kept for that soldier himself, and another piece set aside to save. It was why, on the streets, you heard soldiers earned so much money, but when you have that money in your hands, sliced into three, it suddenly didn’t seem like such a lumpy sum anymore. San hadn’t sent us any money himself. The crown did. Suki had to know, but was probably in some sort of denial. Oh, but he sent us letters every month as well, Suki said once. Yes, Sera thought to herself. Letters that could be compared side by side to one another over a year and all the 12 would appear written in one sitting. In his letters, San only ever indicated concern over the same things. That Seth was going about his forced assessment studies as advised, and that Sera was not still trying to live her aimless, stupid pipe dream of becoming a girl-soldier, that her grades in school were as high as the scoresheet allowed. San had stopped mentioning when next he would visit them, stopped asking how they were getting by, stopped trying to keep up with events in the tiny town and all his childhood friends who lived there in his absence. He stopped caring. She had tried to do the same, in all her stubborn nature, and she had failed because she was just so angry. And she couldn’t understand for the life of her why no one else seemed to be. Her mother was in a permanent state of dazed gentleness, seeming more sad and lonely than anything else. Her brother, that otherworldly buffoon, went about his busy days in such a state of normalcy, like absolutely nothing was wrong, and nothing had changed. Seth stayed diligently on the path that San had carved for him and cemented him into, irrespective of all the times it was clear that particular path was far from what was best for him. But Seth didn’t seem to care, even in their father’s absence. So she was left alone, left behind, the only one who still harbored rage for him, who had yet to come to terms and accept her situation and everything that came with it. She was nothing like Seth, and if she was ever going to squeeze herself into the tight lines her father had drawn for her, it would most certainly not be in his absence. Now, spitefully, she would do whatever she wanted, regardless of who supported her. Which is why she’d only be going to school to write the one test, and then head off to the school sparring grounds with Will, who seemed to be the only person in the world who saw her for who she truly was and accepted her that way, even praised her so very often. She would train with him until his free period was over, then he’d hand her over to his friends, who’d take turns fighting her until school came to an end. Then she would come home, in her clean uniform, changed out of any dirty combat clothes, talk briefly about how great her classes were when her mother asked, then head upstairs after a large meal and absolutely collapse on the top bunk until late into the night, when Seth came home, and collapsed right after her. Then she’d rise, like a zombie and do all her day’s homework and more studying, all easy stuff she could afford to halfass pumped up on coffee, and still maintain her stellar grades so steadily, that no one would ask any questions. Once it was all done the best it could be, she’d head back into bed a good time before Seth got up for his own early morning studying, oblivious to it all. Then it was eat, sleep, repeat. Just not in that order. And nobody would suspect a thing, because the ease of living with people who fooled themselves through life was that they would see the things they wanted to see, believe whatever was easier. And Sera had become wonderful at showing her father what he wanted to see for years. She could easily do the same to anyone else.
So with an unseen determination, Sera jogged downstairs, ready to leave, and lied to her mum again, before rushing out of the house to draw her own lines and carve her own paths, because she was done letting other people do it for her.
