Author's Note: Well I see that this story has been gaining some traffic so I've decided to continue! Keep in mind I started this 8 years ago and it still isn't complete haha so the earlier chapters are probably cringe, but I'm glad you guys are reading anyway! I just finished two new chapters today so I will continue uploading the older chapters I have already completed. Thanks again!
"Mr. Fa?" I asked. "What are you doing here?"
He jumped a little, startled, and shakily put the tea on the table.
"I-I-well-I"
"I invited Mr. Fa over for tea," Momma said, her voice piercing the air like a dagger pierces the bark of a Banyan-Grove Tree.
"Wow," Akash said.
Momma looked beautiful. Her hair was tied up into a neat bun, and her face was painted with just a touch of makeup. The red tint on her lips accentuated the curves of her face, and she wore a tight pink kimono that hugged her body; an ancient relic passed down from her own grandmother.
She came over and pinched Akash's cheeks before turning to Mr. Fa.
"Well Mr. Fa, it has been a wonderful evening," Momma said, her eyes twinkling.
"Yes ma'am, it really has. Thank you again for inviting me for tea," thanked Mr. Fa, bowing to show his respect.
"And feel free to come over anytime. It's the least we can do, isn't that right my little spirit?" Momma asked, turning to me.
"Yes, Mr. Fa," I obliged.
All three of us bowed to Mr. Fa. He bowed once more and left the room. My mother sat down on the couch, sighing.
"I like Mr. Fa," Akash said.
Momma nodded in what seemed like a trance, her eyes twinkling with a strange sort of happiness.
"Me too," she murmured, looking up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes.
Something was going on, and for once, I wasn't against it. If Mr. Fa's presence made Momma happy, who was I to get angry over it? Maybe, just maybe, fate was real, and was working in our favor. I smiled at the thought.
Maybe we could finally be a real family.
Seiji almost never came home, but Mr. Fa filled his place. And he was so much nicer to be around, so much friendlier, even though he had lost so much. He had true courage. While Seiji hid from his problems behind the veil of alcoholism, Mr. Fa faced them head-on, and with a smile on his face.
Sometimes, I heard Momma and Mr. Fa talk for hours into the night before he finally went home.
I loved Mr. Fa. Even though we had only gotten to know him over a few weeks, he was so charismatic and optimistic about life.
"Jia's death changed me. It made me learn to appreciate the little things. Because that's what life's about. It isn't about being poor, or rich, bender, or non-bender. True happiness comes from the people in your life. Don't ever forget that, Akira," he once said to me with tears in his eyes.
I could tell that Jia's death still caused him so much pain. But the fact that he could openly talk about it with me made me admire him even more. He was more of a father to me than Seiji could ever have been.
Mr. Fa was also very handsome. I had never noticed it before, but his face was so perfect, it seemed as if he had been blessed by the most benevolent of spirits.
His hair was tightly pulled back into a topknot, held together by a silver band. His hands, although scarred and callous, were strong, and helped my mother lift boxes of laundry clothes she had to sometimes carry to and from the shop. His pale, powder-white skin contrasted heavily with what Jia's used to be, and his angular facial features were accentuated by a somewhat small nose, large forehead, and lips with just the right amount of plumpness.
Mr. Fa loved to make people happy, especially Akash.
He taught Akash some of the bare basics of martial arts "just in case his bending is incapacitated," he had said. Akash practiced day and night, and squealed with joy when he learned the basic forms.
And, surprisingly, Mr. Fa even paid attention to me. He taught me all about life.
"Do you see those cherry blossoms in the park, Akira? Way out there?"
"No. Where?"
"Out there. Right above the pond."
I squinted, and was finally able to make out the faint tints of pink in the distance. I nodded.
"They go wherever the wind takes them. We are those cherry blossoms. Life is the wind. And you must have faith that, in the end, the wind will take you wherever it feels you must go."
"You mean in the water?" I giggled.
He laughed. "Not necessarily. But do you understand what I am trying to say?"
I nodded.
"Good. It is always important to have faith," he said, ruffling my hair.
But the main thing I loved about Mr. Fa was how happy he made Momma.
On Momma's 34th birthday, he gifted her with a gorgeous painting of cherry blossoms floating off the branches of the tree into a pond below.
"Blossoms are scattered by the wind and the wind cares nothing, but the blossoms of the heart no wind can touch."
That was what the carefully crafted calligraphy spelled out.
Momma cried tears of joy that night, and from then on, kept the painting by her bedside always.
I knew Momma was falling in love with Mr. Fa. Who could blame her? He was so gentle, so kind-hearted, funny, loving, clumsy, and wise beyond his years, and supplied us with money to pay our rent, since we only had one income. And I knew Mr. Fa loved Momma, too. He looked at her with such genuine eyes, and always made her laugh. Seeing her happy made him happy.
One day, as I was passing by his apartment on my way back from babysitting, the sound of a beautiful sitar found my ears. It was accompanied by singing.
The loveliest singing I had ever heard.
Her beauty is not even rivaled by
the blooming of the blossoms in Spring.
Her kindness shines upon everyone,
even the most feeblest, most disgraceful of men,
like the rays of the sun.
They are indiscriminate, just like her heart.
As gentle as the autumn breeze,
I will never ever be worthy of such splendor,
such humanity,
such love.
And yet,
my foolish heart still grips its dreams
and my mischievous mind
keeps telling itself:
I love her…
The chords of the sitar halted abruptly, and the tunes of the song slowly faded out of existence.
But the tears in my eyes continued streaming down my face.