"Hurry, up!" Takuya shouted impatiently while getting on the taxi.
They ran to the door and threw their selves in, feeling as though they might as well be wearing a black stocking over their head.
"Sheesh, Takuya," Koji complained.
"We're not in a hurry, are we?" Koichi questioned.
The interior was black leather, and the windows were tinted black/ it felt safer inside, like nighttime.
"Follow that Taxi," Takuya pointed the Taxi where Zoe was in. "The important question," Takuya corrected, "is whether we could lose Zoe, and I don't think so. We're lucky if we don't."
"I'm sure that will be very comforting," Koji relaxed on his seat.
Koichi thrilled a laugh. "Trust us, Takuya. You'll talk with her in no time." The driver hit the gas then, as Zoe's Taxi drove.
The gag watched out the windows as landscapes flashed past.
"What's the occasion?" Takuya asked.
"What's going on?" Koji muttered.
"Some kind of festival?" Koichi wondered.
The streets were full of people.
"What's the date today?" The driver questioned, smiling.
They weren't entirely sure. "The thirtieth, maybe?" Takuya answered.
"Well, that's ironic. You didn't know that it's International Festival of Dance and Music?" The driver raised an eyebrow. "Oh, right. Tourists."
"International Festival of Dance and Music means?" Koji asked.
The driver chuckled darkly. "Designed to position Bangkok as a cultural centre for world-class performing arts in Asia, the capital hosts the International Festival of Dance and Music every year." His smile was sardonic. "Each year, the star-studded festival presents an impressive program of world-class dance and musical performances bringing together the finest international artists and dancers from countries around the world like Italy, Spain, the Netherlands, Russia, and France, as well as celebrated Thai artists and performers, many of whom have gained international fame."
They were realizing what he meant when he's said ironic.
"I'm sure Zoe's going to attend the festival…she loves music," Shinya gulped.
"I'm not going to be very happy about this," Koji muttered.
"I'm not going to be very happy if I mess things up for Zoe on International Festival of Dance and Music, am I?" Takuya smirked.
Koichi shook his head, his expression grim. "No. We'll have to act very quickly tonight."
Takuya looked away, fighting against his teeth as they tried to break through the skin of his lower lip. Bleeding was not the best idea right now.
The sun was terrifyingly high in the pale blue sky.
"What time will the program start?" Koichi checked.
"The mayor's still planning on noon," the driver answered.
"What are we going to do?" Koji asked.
Takuya kept his eyes on the winding road.
"You don't have to do anything. Zoe's just going to pay his grandparents a few minutes visit, so Koichi and Shinya will follow her. Then Koji and I will have a few minute chat with the oldies."
"How are we going to work that?" Shinya questioned.
A small red car seemed to be racing backwards as the driver zoomed around it.
"Get close to Zoe as close as possible, and then you're going to convince her to talk to me."
Koichi and Shinya nodded.
"Try not to lose your cell phone. Make sure it's not battery empty. Or call us if there's a problem or something," Koji added. "We don't' have time for a concussion day."
Takuya groaned. That would be just like Zoe—in a moment of klutziness.
The sun continued to climb in the sky. It was too bright, and that had the gang packing.
"There," Takuya said abruptly, pointing to a simple but elegant house.
Takuya stared at Zoe, jumping out of the Taxi; Takuya was feeling the very first time hint of a new kind of fear. Every minute since yesterday morning—it seemed like a week ago—when Koji had spoken Zoe's name at the foot of the stairs, there had been only one fear. And yet, now, as he stared at his ex-girlfriend, he felt another, more selfish kind of dread thrill through him.
"Her grandparents' house is very beautiful," Koji commented.
"It absolutely terrified me," Koichi shivered.
"Let's go," Takuya announced in a flat, icy voice as Zoe entered the house.
Zoe began the steep climb to the stairs.
"There house is really big than I remembered," Zoe moaned. She could hear the clock. "And pretty quiet," she added. "Gran," she called over what she calls her grandmother. Her comforting voice echoed at the hall. "Pop?"
"Zoe? Zoe?" Gran called. Zoe sprinted to the door, to the sound of her voice.
"Zoe, is that really you?" Pop's voice continued as she ran into the long, high ceilinged room.
She stared around her, trying to find where the voices were coming from. She heard her grandparents laugh, and she whirled to the sound.
There they were, they hadn't changed much; their face looked just the same as Zoe remembered it. Their skin was soft and withered, bent into a thousand tiny creases that clung gently to the bone underneath. Like a dried apricot, but with a puff of thick white hair standing out in a cloud around it.
Their mouths—theirs a wizened pucker—spread into the same surprised half-smile at just the same time. Apparently, they hadn't been expecting to see her, either.
They paused, too, and then they smiled at the little awkwardness. Zoe ran into them to give them a big hug.
"Zoe?" Gran called her name.
Zoe sniffed. "I've missed you guys so much," she sobbed silently.
Pop smiled politely in welcome. "Well, Zoe, you've grown," he said. There was surprise in Zoe's face as she glanced at Gran and Pop.
Zoe nodded. "Gran, Pop, I'm glad to be back here."
"Welcome back, Zoe," Pop responded, embracing his granddaughter. Then he looked at her.
"What' s with the visit?" Gran noted, looking at Zoe. "You didn't even try to call us, so we prepared food."
"Nice question, Gran," Zoe commented. "Surprise!" Zoe jumped happily.
"You seem in a better mood," Pop noticed.
"Marginally," Zoe agreed in a flat voice. They glanced at Zoe's hard face, and wondered how her mood could have been darker before.
Gran chuckled. "What's the cause of going here?" she asked, skeptical.
Zoe only smiled, his expression contemptuous. Then she froze.
"Is it about someone special?" Gran said casually.
Zoe touched Gran's arm. "Technically yes—but—"
"I will be pleased to talk about that," Pop interrupted.
"Let's not talk about it," Zoe suggested.
Pop and Gran nodded once.
Pop and Gran, holding hands, led the way down yet another, wide, ornate hall.
They ignored the doors at the end of the hall—doors entirely sheathed gold—stopping halfway down the hall and sliding aside a piece of the paneling to expose a plane wooden door.
"Zoe, dear one, make yourself at home!" Pop cried in evident delight. His voice was just a soft sighing.
Zoe drifted forward, and the movement flowed with such surreal grace that she gawked, her mouth hanging open.
She was only astonished. She couldn't decided if she would act normal or properly. She supposed her grandparents' life were perfect here.
"How long are you staying here?" Gran asked after she ordered their maid to cook.
"I won't be staying here for long." Zoe smiled; the expression made her look like an angelic child. "Just checking if my grandparents are still okay, and her you are!"
"Ah, Zoe." Pop smiled, too. "We hope you could stay longer."
He turned his misty glittered, and the smile brightened—became ecstatic.
"You look just like you're Mom!" He rejoiced, clapping his hands together.
"This is a happy surprise! Wonderful!"
Zoe stared in shock, as if this is the first time Pop saw her.
Gran turned to their hulking escort. "Sometimes, Zoe could be really stubborn, I don't know where she gets it from."
"I'm sure you miss me," Zoe laughed.
"Why not?" Gran chuckled.
"You see, Gran?" Pop smiled like a scolding grandfather. "She could frame our daughter."
"Yes, Pop, I can," Zoe agreed, joking.
"I love a happy ending." Gran sighed. "They are so rare. I guess Pop and Gran's story is officially almost finally over." She turned to gaze at Pop with curious, misty eyes. "There were mistakes at the beginning, but, in the end, they were fixed by us only."
"Oh, I'm far from infallible." Pop flashed a dazzling smile. He looked perfectly ease. "Zoe," Gran asked. "What if you screw up, will you regret it or forget it?"
"Well, that doesn't make sense, Gran—of course, both of them," Zoe snorted.
"Regret is a better word than forget isn't it?" Gran questioned, folding her arms across her chest. "Why?" she grinned mysteriously. "Because all of us make mistakes. None of us is perfect. If we screw up, sometimes we regret it, sometimes we don't. We never forget it," Gran explained.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Zoe asked. "I'm completely contented on what I am, who I am."
Gran and Pop sat on the couch while Zoe decided to stand while she talks.
"The reason you're here is because of a boy, isn't it?" Gran almost sang in her feathery voice.
Zoe drifted away. She paused where she was standing. Zoe snorted very quietly, and she looked at the picture of her mother, hanging on the wall, curious.
"You're quite interesting than we remembered," Pop said to Zoe.
Zoe realized, a second late, that she just looked like her mother, except for the hair.
Gran and Pop look interested.
Gran was shaking her head. "Would you like to share your love story to us?" Gran asked.
"I broke up with him, period." Zoe answered.
"Well, that's amazing," Pop said. "Absolutely amazing."
Zoe's expression was frustrated. "What's so amazing about that?"
Gran smiled. "So convenient," she repeated herself. Then she spoke to Zoe. "It means, this is just the beginning. It takes a quiet a bit to surprise you, we can assure you."
Zoe looked at Pop's alive face, and she didn't believe that. Her love story is already 'the end'.
"It's just so difficult to understand, even now," Zoe mused, staring at her mother's solo picture. "How did Mom fall in love with Dad?"
"It's not without effort," Pop answered calmly.
"But still—it was called love at first sight. You're father was her first and last love," Gran explained.
Zoe chuckled once without humor. "Where did they first meet?"
Pop was skeptical. "Your parents. Camp Annawanna. Catskill Mountains, 1984. Your father was nineteen and a star sports counselor. Your Mom was a CIT."
"People say she reminded them of Sissy Spacek," Gran commented. "What happened under that harvest noon that summer…that's the stuff of legend."
"Now that's a real love story," Zoe laughed. "Sometimes, I can smell their memories. I've felt anything like that myself…but I still don't believe in first love."
"Is this boy your first love?" Gran asked, her voice sarcastic now.
Zoe laughed again. "Ah, you don't wanna know."
"You remind me of your mother—only she was not o stubborn." Pop said.
"Your mother outshines me in many other ways as well," Gran added. "Just like you."
"I certainly never thought to see Mom bested for self-control of all things," Zoe agreed.
"Hardly." Pop sounded patient. As if he weren't tired of the preliminaries. It made her confident; she couldn't help but true to imagine what her grandparents expected would follow.
"We are gratified by your success," Pop amused. "Your memories with your Mother are quiet gift for us, though they astonish me exceedingly. I am surprised by how it…pleases me, your success in this unorthodox path you'd chosen. We expected that you wouldn't waste, weaken with time. Yet, somehow, I'm happy to be wrong."
Zoe didn't reply.
"But your restraint!" Gran sighed.
Zoe gazed back at her grandparent's admiration with no expression. She knew their faces well enough—time had not changed that—to guess at something seething beneath the surface. She fought to keep her breathing even.
"Just remembering how you appeal the boy…" Pop chuckled.
"I hope I didn't disturbed," Zoe reassured Gran and Pop. "But I am so curious, about one thing in particular." She eyed them with bright interest. "Why do unfortunate events happen to good people?" she asked, eagerly.
"Ask her," Pop suggested in a flat voice.
"Things happen for a reason!"Gran exclaimed.
Their filmy eyes smiled down at Zoe's, and it was impossible to look away. They were mesmerizing in an odd, pleasant way.
Pop's face altered as Zoe watched. The confidence wavered and became first doubt, then incredulity before he calmed it into a friendly mask.
"So very interesting," he said.
Zoe's eyes flickered to Gran, and, though her face was composed.
Pop stood with a thoughtful expression. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes flickering between Zoe and Gran. Then abruptly, he shook his head.
"I'm starving," he said to himself. "I wonder if lunch is served…Gina, dear?"
Gina, the maid, smiled up happily to Pop. "Yes, sir?"
"I was wondering, my dear one, if the lunch is served."
Gina turned toward Zoe with a beatific smile.
"Almost done, sir," she answered.
Gran pulled Zoe's hand into the dining room. Following the maid.
Zoe smelled the delicious food. "Yummy!" Zoe shrieked, her voice echoing in the silence.
"Gina," Pop recalled her in a tranquil voice. Gina looked up quickly, still smiling with pleasure, her eyes questioning. As soon as Gina served the dishes, Zoe was still.
Pop inclined his head toward Zoe.
Zoe turned her smile in Pop's direction.
He didn't even meet her gaze. Zoe watched as her grandparents sat. Zoe smelled the fresh mushroom ravioli.
"Mom's favorite," Zoe whispered in a tight voice. As she spoke, she sat and they began scooping up ravioli and popped it in their mouth. Zoe's eyes met her grandparents. They looked relaxed into relief.
Zoe looked at Gina, too, and she no longer smiled. She glared at her, then went back to the kitchen.
Pop stared to laugh as Gina placed a plate of 'moon cakes' on the table.
"Moon cakes?" Zoe chuckled. "I haven't had moon cakes since Mom…died."
Zoe grabbed one piece of moon cake, then tossed it in.
"There's still plenty of moon cakes, Zoe," Gran said in a comforting tone. "You confounds us all."
"Ha, ha, ha," Pop chuckled.
"It tastes wonderful than I remembered!" Zoe hissed, grabbing another moon cake.
Gina left the room with her upper lip curled back over her teeth as she continued to glare at Zoe.
"Ha, ha, ha," Pop chortled again. "You're very childlike when you see a moon cake, Zoe." Zoe shook her head in admiration.
Gran glared.
"So what do you do after this?" Grab sighed.
Zoe stiffened. "I suppose attend the program. Have some adventures here in Bangkok. Relaxation." Zoe answered hopefully. "My journey would be an excellent story to Dad."
Pop hesitated.
Zoe seemed to with each word before she spoke it. "I'd…be…home…for…Christmas."
"Really?" Pop asked, still hopeful. "Would you perhaps be interested to study here instead?"
"No, thank you," Zoe said. "Besides, I'm in the senior year."
"Would you want to stay here for dinner?" Gran raised her eyebrows.
"What? It's not like I'm not coming home for Christmas," Zoe hissed; her voice, though no more than a whisper, was flat.
"Zoe, surely you see the potential here," Pop chided her affectionately. "It's going to be a long time since we won't see you again."
Zoe looked away with caustic expression. Zoe's eyes sparked with indignation at the comparison.
"No, thank you," Zoe spoke up in a barely than a whisper.
Gran sighed. "That's unfortunate."
"This is not the last time we'll see each other, won't it?" Zoe hissed.
The tone of her voice surprised them. She sounded irate, but there was something deliberate about her delivery—as if she'd chosen her words with great care.
"Of course not." Pop blinked, astonished.
"Gran," Zoe hissed. "If someone says sorry, how will you know that they mean it?"
Gran glared at Pop. "Actions speaks louder than words," she answered.
"What if I believe someone and do it again, should I give him another chance?" She demanded. Her voice was papery thin, just like her skin.
"Take your chances on the boy you're talking about," Pop reminded her, Zoe thought of the pretty moments Takuya and her had.
Zoe's face twisted into a new expression. Was it supposed to be a smile?
"Yes," Gran agreed. "But when he's no longer useful to you, he will serve to sustain you. That is not your plan your this one. If he betrays you again, are you prepared to leave him again? That is up to you but I hope not," she scoffed.
"I can do it—," she began, still whispering. Pop silenced her with an icy look.
"Therefore, he is vulnerability. Though, it is true, love will keep you alive. You may leave if you wish," Gran continued.
"That's what I thought," Zoe said, with something akin to pleasure.
"Unless…," Pop sighed. He looked happy with the way conversation had gone. "Unless you do intend to stay for a while."
Zoe pursed her lips, hesitating for a moment before she answered. "Well, a few minutes won't hurt.
Gran smiled happily. "Why, then make every second count here." Her expression turned more hesitant.
Zoe lips tightened into a fierce line. She stared into her empty plate, and stared back to her grandparents. She felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach.
"Is Mom's grand piano there?" Zoe asked.
"Yes. It's upstairs, second to the right," Pop answered.
And then Zoe stepped away from the dining room, forward to the upstairs. They turned to watch her. Zoe didn't say anything.
When Zoe opened the right door leading to the grand piano, her eyes wandered to the beautiful instrument. She remembered her childhood memory with her Mom, they were playing the grand piano together. They were both really good—they played for themselves during they have time and during special occasions—they loved to watch their hands play. They were happy, absorbed—they both seemed like a new, mysterious being to themselves then, someone outside the "mom and daughter" persona they took for granted.
Zoe rubbed the grand piano before she turned to the keys. And then her fingers run promptly across the ivory and the room was filled with a composition so intricate, so flourishing to believe only one set of hands played. And she began singing:
Everybody needs inspiration
Everybody needs a song
A beautiful melody
When the night's so long
Cause there is no guarantee
That this life is easy
Yeah, when my world is falling apart
When there's no light to break up the dark
That's when I, I, I look at you
When the waves are flooding the shore and I
Can't find my way home anymore
That's when I, I, I look at you
You, appear, just like a dream to me
Just like cyledoscope colors that
Cover me
All I need
Every breath, that I breathe
Dontcha know?
Your eautiful Yeah yeah..
When the waves are flooding the shore
And I can't find my way home anymore
That's when I,
I I look at you
I look at you
Yeah yeah..
Oh oh..
You appear just like a dream to me..
The song she was almost done playing, Takuya's song, drifted to an end. The last note hovered poignantly in the silence.
She realized there were tears in her eyes. She dabbed at them. She laughed, taking herself away from the piano.