Chapter Two: The Mural on the Wall

With Father gone, I immediately took over his daily tasks, to the surprise and admiration of everyone. People who had been whispering, "Poor lad" and, "Can't cope on his own" were now cheering me on with praise such as, "Such a good little chap!" and, "The best son a mother could have!" I loved every second of it.

Every morning I would attend to the chickens and every afternoon I would get groceries for Mother, who was beginning to slow down. I was excused from school and everyone remarked on how good I was. It was certainly good for a thirteen-year-old to care for his mother and his sister at the expense of much of his own life.

Psychiatrists are fascinated by these turn of events in my life. The whole lot are unanimous that this is where it started. Family role confusion, they call it. Pah! Nonsense! I was simply looking out for my family. I had no desire to supplant my father as head of the household. But perhaps there is some truth in the suggestion that Mother had dwindled to the status of a family member such as a live-in grandfather; someone who is loved and looked after, but not actually important. Now I was the man of the house and every man needs a woman…but that is yet to come.

Karen was still there for me. Our love had heated up as we hit puberty. How many times we rolled in the hay – literally – making out. We were never discovered, but sometimes it was pretty damn close. We were both excellent runners, which made discovery even less likely. I guess the danger of discovery kept the relationship exciting, a relationship with a zenith that would last for four years.

And where was Popuri in all of this? She had never really grown up, either physically or mentally. She was still as bratty, child-like and stick-thin as ever. She was dirty, like all children are, but to be going on fourteen and retaining the appearance of an eight-year-old was quite worrying. Nevertheless, Popuri's figure was not a subject of interest to me.

Four years had passed and Father still had not returned. Mother was getting very worried. She feared that he would not return before she died. Taking me aside one day as I came home; as my young sister trudged upstairs to bed with her dirty, matted hair, her acne-marked face, her poorly-developed figure and her smell of the salty sea, she said, "Rick, tomorrow I want you to go and find your father. I don't care how long it takes, how much money you have to spend, just find him and bring him home." I promised I would.

The next morning, before Popuri got up, Mother saw me off as the sun rose in the sky, a glowing ray of hope for my mission. I took my wallet, with 50,000G in notes. Mother expected me to be away for a long time. As she couldn't go very far, I walked alone for most of the way. To my surprise, Karen was waiting at the docks. She ran up to me and said, "Don't be away too long! I love you and want you to come home soon, so that we can be together always."

I was touched and replied with, "Of course Karen, how could I ever leave, knowing that you were still here?"

We kissed and I was tempted to bid her farewell with another hefty lovemaking session, but my desire was cut with the loud, raucous call of the boatman.

"Come on son!" he shouted, "I haven't got all day!"

I quickly said goodbye to Karen and hopped onto the small boat. I sat down on one of the seats and watched her until she was out of sight. It was the spring of 2002 and I would not see my family or my friends for a full year.

My first stop was Leaf City. Mother had said that Father would stay there on his way home, so that was the most logical place to start searching. I looked through all the hotels, but no mention was made of my father. Unwilling to miss him, I hunkered down in several cheap motels for the next three months, afraid that I might miss him by a day.

After my stay in Leaf City, I began to search further afield. Rainbow Town, Star City, Yellow State; I searched them all looking for my elusive father. I travelled to many strange and diverse areas. Once, I even crossed the border into a neighbouring country and searched for a week. However, by January of 2003, I knew that Father would not be coming home. My money was running out and I was concerned about my family. Reluctantly, I turned and headed home, hitchhiking and walking most of the way.

Finally, in May 2003, after travelling over five thousand miles during my tour of the outside world, I was back on the boat and approaching dear Mineral Town. A relaxed, contented smile crossed my face as the beloved green island came into view. I was home, but sadly with nothing to show for it; but home itself would reward me for my pains.

As I stepped off the boat onto the good sand of Mineral Beach, my ego silently complained that there was no welcoming party. Shrugging it off, I walked home, trying to keep my spirits up, but lamenting that Father had not been discovered.

The Poultry Farm came into view; nothing had changed much, at least on the outside. I was glad for that, no change outside usually meant there was no change inside and I was hoping that Mother was as well as she had been a year earlier.

I knocked on the door and after a few moments it opened. There was Mother, looking slightly frailer, but not nearly as bad as I had feared. In surprise and joy she fell into my arms and I hugged her warmly. Through her tears, she whispered in a cracked voice, "Is he here?"

"…No," I managed quietly.

"I see…" was the disappointed reply. An uncomfortable silence permeated the scene for a brief moment before it was washed away by Mother saying, "Well, come on in! You've missed so much!"

Taking my arm, she led me out into the garden. As we walked down, arm in arm, I noticed that apart from one extra chicken coop and a few more chickens, nothing had changed. Or so it appeared. At the bottom of the garden, in the clearing, there was a huge mural on the brick wall which separated the old man's farm from our own, very pretty and colourful. But before I could comment on it my mother shouted in joyous tones to someone outside my vision, "Popuri, your brother's home!"

I turned and fell in love. There she was, whoever she was, for it was not Popuri, at least not the Popuri I had known, sitting on the ground, enjoying the beautiful weather with a basket of flowers decorating her lovely left hand. The old Popuri was a scraggy little creature, but this nymph, this goddess, surpassed Aphrodite in loveliness. Yet, through the hazy mists of passion, I could see that it was Popuri. Astounding!

In place of her thin, matted and lustreless hair was a head of vibrant, radiant glory; pink and yet not shockingly pink, simply a wonderful, very light reddish hue. Gone was her acne and left in its place was pure, porcelain skin. Vanished forever was her set of stained baby teeth and now she possessed a set of pure white teeth. Her stick-thin figure had been replaced with feminine curves, with rounded buttocks and perfectly formed breasts. She was wearing a red skirt, with a white blouse supplemented with a black bodice. She saw me and flashed me one of those pearly smiles. The last fourteen years wavered in my mind one last time and disappeared forever. A few individual stabs of morality tried vainly to point out that what I was doing, contemplating, was completely and utterly immoral, but they were brushed aside easily. Never in my life had I witnessed such beauty – never…

But Mother had finished pointing out Popuri and was now talking about the mural she had painted. It was of the Virgin, the Holy Mother. My own mother had always had a religious streak which she had failed to pass on to either of her children.

"I did it myself to pass the time," said my mother, "Isn't she beautiful, if I do say so myself?"

I was not looking at the painting, but was fixed in admiration at the sight of young Popuri tossing her hair and enjoying the slight breeze that was in the air on that glorious day.

"She most definitely is," I replied, shaking my head in wonder, "She most definitely is!"

If you've made it this far, I applaud you. Thank you for taking the time to read. Please review, it really helps me with my writing skills. God bless you all and Merry Christmas!