A/N: Hello y'all! I hope everyone's week been well. Yesterday was great for me because it was Moonpie's birthday haha! Again, I've never leave any commentary from your sides; both compliments suggestions. It's been very constructive to see the different pinpoints that you shared with me, and I am glad to receive them. There were two similar things that have been mentioned to me, and I do not want to go past it without going over it. First of, Lizzy, I see where you were coming from: Sheldon would never think that Amy does not succeed his idea of beautiful. I may have made a misunderstanding. It is not of through his view that he was saying it to be, but through his resolve from society's standards (because yes, this IS Shelly– there is no one who he'd think would top Amy, plus these are simply things that certainly do not occupy his mind). And next, Kathy– yes! Amy does have a stunning figure. I imagine that this emphasis may be disconcerting, but it was at the time when the world was keen on women's femininity. Traditional gender roles had been stressed beyond all else, and it was the norm for them to be shown as an attractive full-timer. The reason I have underlined this is because it shows that Amy's beauty exceeds the notions of others, and this part will play as an important factor in my story. (I also want to apologize because I may be a culprit in this as well– I can't stop being proud of how both Amy and Shelly are set apart from the crowd with their own identity! Our unconventional, groundbreaking duo).I hope it makes sense, and that my intentions are clear.
.
/ Disclaimer: I own nothing of The Big Bang Theory. This is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended. /
.
.
~Chapter 6~
.
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were— I have not seen,
As others saw— I could not bring
My passions from a common spring,
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow— I could not awaken,
My heart to joy at the same tone
And all I lov'd— I lov'd alone,
Then in my childhood— in the dawn
Of a most stormy life— was drawn,
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still,
From the torrent, or the fountain
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by,
From the thunder, and the storm
And the cloud that took the form,
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
— "Alone" by Edgar Allen Poe
.
.
.
The swaying motion of the taxicab and the sounds of the steady engine had brought Dr. Cooper to seldom reverie. He peacefully watched as the automobile passed by the numerous mundane, brown trunks of colossal trees. The gorgeous pine and mint green fronds sparkled under the gleam of the sun — giving off a blinding celestial sight. The faces of his parents unconsciously came to mind. He had not seen his family since his graduation from university as a young boy. Heavy melancholic feeling drowned his placid demeanor, and a slight bitterness gnawed at him. Since then he had not thought of his family as he buried his head in all kinds of fields of study possible.
Till this day, Dr. Cooper knew not if he took that calloused route in an act of unconsciousness– or solely of a purpose to bury any heavy, sorrowful leftover thoughts from the memory of his father. With barely saying a proper farewell, his poppa, Mr. George Cooper, sailed on a ferry to Sweden for his businesses with well enterprise– a printing factory and automobile company. His father fought in the First War and sacrificed a thumb and two fingers to that conflict in Fromelles, a catastrophe that in no way thwarted his manhood.
He came home six years later to his wife in Galveston, Texas and later conceived three children; Cooper being the middle child of his older brother and younger-by-nine-minutes sister. His pious Christian mother, sired by a pastor, brought her God-fearing religion to the family. She married in her early twenties as his father's pure, innocent, virgin bride. So he grew up in a traditional southern baptist home; helping around in the house with chores housework such as cleaning, cooking, laundry, and purchasing.
After his departure to the different part of the country, Young Cooper was left alone with his uncle's seldom visits. It seemed that the scrawny relative agreed to send him money… to his liking of not seeing his nephew. The reason why he was ousted far from home, he had not given a thought, nor did he believed that he'd care the least.
The image of his young mother's face appeared on the window before it bled into the transparent window and the fading obstacles moving outside. Has mother aged a lot? Is she now undergoing the gradual process of dying pigment cells in her hair follicles? Dr. Cooper could not help but wonder, traveling back to how his precious mother used to sing lullabies with her soft caresses on his hair. It was a rare occurrence, but he did remember once when she joined him in his undying love for trains, playing with him and his small figurines.
With his father customarily leaving young Cooper by himself in his workplace–since the burly man would often have no choice but to bring the little scamp–the little boy had fallen for trains and the rooms of paper and ink.
Mrs. Cooper had always wanted for her son to be closer with his father, however, due to unabating negligence, he grew a connection with reading instead. Perhaps he was so engaged in the world of ink, he developed an early and passionate appetite for learning. In consequence, he hardly knew his father as his memories of him existed primarily with only unfavorable recollections.
From the loud screams inhabiting the next door of his parents' room, he sought refuge in his little world of studying. From the teasing and taunting of his classmates, he confided in his solace of writing. From the sardonic smirks of everyone he knew in his town, he balled up in the comfort of darkness and shut himself off from the world. Escaping to his thoughts and dreams where he knew it was only he who appreciated the boy who was once small enough to be eaten up by the world yet whose mind was bigger than everyone and everything in it.
He had always been the one who was simply different from everyone since he came forth to living. For they did not understand him, nor was he able to reciprocate those feelings with others. What came so easily to people was things he could not approach just as certainly like recurring events and challenges. And one with his father was something he could never forego like his mother and his siblings. No. He was simply not like them.
Now here he was– going over back to his hometown in Medford, Texas to visit his family. He usually did not take leave from work, but this was an exception as his mother sent him a letter, calling for a reunion now that his sister was recently engaged. The taxicab rocked to and fro — like a crib for an infant — his eyelids grew heavy, his movement became still, and he eventually drifted to a long slumber.
x
x
"Darling!" A girly cry came from the woman with a two piece gown ensemble of sunflowers and pearly, white teeth.
On her knees, she dropped the gardening tools in outright shock and joy upon seeing a dark-haired man approaching the front of the porch.
"Mother?" The man said in quiet disbelief, his hands themselves almost letting go of the bouquet of flowers.
Rising up to her feet, Mrs. Mary Cooper ran across their small fleshed out garden, hurried towards him without a moment's thought and leapt into her son's arms.
In bewilderment, the young man looked down at her smaller form, amazed to see the once big and mightier person found perfectly fitted beneath both his arms.
The woman who fed him, dressed him, and tucked him in bed.
How time had passed.
Dr. Cooper usually hated hugs, but for those long two minutes, he let her finally cradle him in her arms like she always had long ago.
.
.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
.
.
He has scorned the dictation of getting engaged in the flowery age and then wounding up with kids and a mortgage later in life. The man in science was enjoying the freedom to pursue his passion rather than being tied down by kids and a wife.
And so, he shook his head as the absurdity of the situation hit him for the hundredth time. His mother had relayed him the message during his short appearance. Personally, he thought Mr. Williams, their oldest neighbor, and many others were mad for forcing their daughters down his throat. He'd try everything to sway the old man from the aim to see his daughter married off... to him. It was a good thing that Mary had already taken care of it. Josephine was a sweet enough girl, but he doubted anything would last between him and another civilized being.
Ah, Dr. Cooper thought. He could not, for the life of him, imagine being in her position. Looking at his sister across the table, it was evident by the protrusion of her abdomen that she was harboring a little addition to the family. He had not a clue of how Melissa Cooper is still living now that she was in their mother's presence, after brandishing the attestation of bearing a child out of wedlock. Perhaps Mary slipped this notion against her beliefs in the wake of seeing her two most precious gifts in her life. Sneakily giving her brother a crafty glance, Melissa stuck out her tongue at him for the sake of good old times.
"Charming," he spoke dissatisfied.
"This soup is as good as all git-out, Mama." The young woman said, her Texas twang consuming her delivery.
Watching the two young adults slurping her homemade black bean stew, Mary chuckled.
"Ain't it salty or too sweet?"
"Nah, it ain't."
"Well, I'm only over the moon to see y'all loving my food once more."
The familiarity of their quaint, tiny, and chippy house overwhelmed Dr. Cooper and old memories were flooding in.
Their cottage contained a distinct style– a small home intended to house a single family. Since he was five, he had used to point out how asymmetrical it was and would earn himself a pull on the cheek by his older brother, George. It was a one-and-a-half story dwelling with thatched, low-pitched gable roofs and small covered porches. Indubitably, the chimney was its central feature there, taking him back to that cozy charm it was known for.
All the windows there led to its great countryside scenery. His childhood idyllic summers were spent inside, even though it would've been ideally relaxing to lay on the grass in the shade of the tree below the sun (this was what the neighbor kids did throughout the years). For most people, they kept their old homes as a special place in their hearts. In contrast, Dr. Cooper was not onboard to think this establishment as a piece of cherished treasure he'd bid to keep.
"You have no idea how much I missed you, honey." Mary told him, her face holding a wistful tone. She wore a yellow apron around her waist that reminded him of his seeing her in the kitchen twenty years ago. Right there, in their dining room and their kitchen. The place that always smelled like her baked goods and fluffy, buttered rolls with cinnamon that the three children would often cause scrummage for the last bite.
It was surreal to be in this setting once again. To be put in this set of mind that he had not visited for centuries. It was eerie and jarring.
Feeling a light touch on his shoulder, he looked to see her worn hand placed there. Placing the spoon down on his napkin, he dragged his hand over hers and said, "It had certainly been a while; fourteen years."
Mary looked at him with dubiety. There was something in his answer that was out of place and the way his movement of his hand instantly released hers.
"It really had been." She agreed nonetheless compliantly with a smile.
"So, Cooper Smelly Pooper, how have ya been?" Melissa asked, toying with her spoon and twisting the utensil around her plate.
"I have been well. I'm on a one-day sabbatical instead of a month.. so I am on the least of my worries," he replied, not surprised to hear this nickname resurface. He was no stranger to mimetic epidemiology. At his former elementary school, the phrase dispersed like wildfire.
"You're using your mid-Atlantic accent? Oh come on now, where's yer Texas spirit, bubba? This household demands our roots."
"I am a new man, Missy, my life in Pasadena has changed me. And I am all the more glad for it. Over the years, I have found the language of Texans to be rough, clumsy, and unintelligent to be used in conveying important details."
It was tucked away in one of his deepest chambers, yet it was easier for him to believe that his southern accent was beaten out of him at school. He remembered it came up later in college– it was a disadvantage to have southern accents for the long run in his education. Moving to the new city, Dr. Cooper fully dropped his once he found that the majority of people who had won a Nobel prize were intellectually spoken. Nevertheless, without a saving grace, his speech was now being compared to the two women in his life.
Melissa made a sharp click with her tongue. "Bless your heart! You shan't lose your touch– besides, c'mon, Texas shouldn't be looked down upon. We have been an independent nation for those nine years. Those folks should know that we ruled them down!"
"I am well aware of that, but I could tell you've already missed the major case." The man indicated, hinting that she left out the nation's tremendous issue.
"There you go again, bespouting how oafish one thing can be," his sister said with an exasperated smile.
Emerging from the kitchen, Mary appeared with a cherry pie and two mittens over the heated baking pan.
"It's wonderful to hear you children both picking on each other like you've always had," she dolefully said before turning to the young lady, "Child, you better be careful with your diet, ya got that? Now that I've said this, dig in. My food is only an exception."
"Oh, don't you worry, Mama, This kind of thing ain't my first rodeo. I've know I've got enough space in my stomach to take down a blue whale before I lose this smackin' figure."
Dr. Cooper wanted to interrupt her for her false implications, but then guessed that he did not catch the figure of speech within. So he simply followed, "Well, at least you got one thing right about eating cherries– they're providential in nutrition for pregnant women."
Melissa puffed out her cheeks at him. "I'm getting married and I have a child on the way, do you not think I know that? Plus, when did you began spouting about what's good for pregnancy?"
He gave a nonchalant shrug.
"I had unfortunately overheard the stories from a "committee" of ladies outside a coffee shop one day. You thought tooth fairies existed and the earth was flat, who am I to know that you'd comprehend another fact to your delusions?"
His sister rolled her eyes. "That was long ago when I was a child."
Then their mother joined in.
"Oh, sweetheart, you should hear your sister's story of her meeting her soon-to-be husband. It's awfully endearing! Her husband is a warehouse worker in the east region. A really brawny, exquisite fella who'd weekly bring his mother-in-law some delicious basket of fruits from their area." Mary said, dusting off her hands on her apron before taking a chair out for herself.
"Firstly, it started when your sister was crying her eyes out and sniffling for some clod, I don't even know his name, who broke it off with her."
"Ma– no way in hell did I cry and secondly, I was the one who left the sorry halfwit chowderhead."
"Missy, Missy...," their mother started seriously, "you do remember I dragged your drunken buttocks off the road."
His sister laughed, embarrassed. "Just.. please continue."
"You have no idea how mad I was when that horrible fella made my baby peanut look so awful. So when that sonny came back to the restaurant, I whomped him good!"
Melissa's chest gathered a big inhale, scratching her the patch of hair behind her ear without the feeling of itch. "When she says that, she means by pummeling him with her straw hat and giving him a proper kick down there below."
Dr. Cooper gave an involuntary wince by the thought.
"I know it was gruesome."
"I don't follow," Cooper began, "This.. well— excruciating action you had performed that time, does it not contradict the expectations of teachings in your religious upbringing?"
His mother rested her tongue on the side of her jaw. "Well, honeybun, sometimes we just can't understand things. We're all humans and sinners, so I'm bound to pull something of an evildoer. Lord, forgive my soul, but let that hellish man rot."
Their then mother unsurprisingly looked up at the ceiling with her praying hands.
"You know, Ma, this story that you're telling is starting to sound like it's just about you and my fiancé."
"Too bad, it would've been put a little differently if you weren't busy being drunk on the side."
The physicist sat between them in the background, a little dazed.
"Moving on, it turns out that I had— accidentally, mind you— punched a poor guy who happened to come to help my crying baby."
"I wanted to pass out right there," his sister mouthed at him dramatically and then spoke, "He was severely candied and cute and very thoughtful to help someone covered in snot."
"Goodness me, I wasn't up and about to let another man go near my daughter just yet, but John's goodwill and love for your sister somehow warmed up to me. It was incredible, and for them to give me a grandchild soon, it's like a gift from God." His mother rested her hand over Melissa's on their small dining table.
"Uhuh," the woman added with a bright grin, squeezing back her mother's, "With him, I've never been happier."
Dr. Cooper could not morph the emotions he was wielding, if he had any just then.
The mirthful view displayed in his very eyes took hold of him in a tight grip; it untowardly contrived him to hesitate in trampling upon the most private of memories. And this old, whole house of theirs was full of them. Ever since he walked inside the living room, his movements were hyper-vigilant and his feet trod lightly on the carpet.
Sinking his teeth on his last bite of bread, he yet to say a word, but hadn't. The women turned to see the man in their lives still in his chair, not reacting how they had expected to this buoyant circumstance. In a matter of time, the kettle behind them whistled loudly.
"Oh, the water has boiled," Mary announced needlessly. "Need anything as I'm headin' to the kitchen?"
She looked at the two of them for an answer.
"No thank you," Dr. Cooper replied, his eyes somewhere else.
Melissa shook her head. "It's fine, Ma."
"Do you need any help, mother?" Her son then offered as he started to shift in his seat.
"Nah, you are to sit there and let me serve you, kids. There's some herbal brew fixin' to do. And young lady, you better not move an inch one bit because you're holding my whole world right there." The old woman gave a direct point of her chin towards Melissa's belly.
The lovely yet firm order made the young woman laughed. "I've got that, crystal clear."
"So, well, well, well… dear bubbs, is it true that you've got acclaimed for one of your successes in your job?" Melissa crossed her elbows beside her plate, leaning over.
"You're correct. Few months ago, I have recently determined the equivalence of two formulations of quantum electrodynamics; Feynman's and Julian Schwinger's."
He stated, not elaborating in his description.
"Is that all?"
"Is that all," he repeated with a temper. Clearly, this was his earthly-brained sister who shall never see things the way he did. Like all the one-way brains of this town.
"I little believe that you would understand, so I simplified it."
Melissa's smile grew thin. As expected, this was her know-it-all brother who seemed to not have changed his overbearing retaliation and ruthless feedback in every possible aspect of life. She could effortlessly see the boy she had once lived her childhood with in that very space, on that very chair.
"I was so very proud of ya when ya made it to the big headlines in the newspapers!" Mary exclaimed, wholeheartedly from the other side of the cottage.
"My boy chasing after his science-y dreams." A content sigh was heard. "All over town, I could not stop talking about you with everyone. To think of how proud a mother can be, I was just beyond that for days and weeks on end."
He looked at the wall as if he could see right through it, picturing his mother behind it with that little dance of hers. Was he smiling? Perhaps he was not. Could his sister see?
"Then I guess work is doing really good for you," His sister said with an acidic edge in her words.
"The whole town must be sizzling with envy for my bright little boy who has now grown into a man, and gracious me, have ya grown so much as a corn-fed country boy." Their mother came back with the tea set on a silver tray.
He was unsure of how to respond to her gushing of him, hence he decided to appeal with his polite, verbal gratitude.
Mary sat back down and had poured them each a drink before finally opening up, "Now, darling, have ya not been seeing anyone, yourself?"
The inquiry caught him by surprise. Well, not entirely, for it was a common thing for people to circulate this age-long form of question.
Perhaps he was taken aback by the thought of his mother hoping for him to settle down with a mate once and for all. It was a wish of any mother's.
"No," Dr. Cooper plainly said. "I have not."
"Was there a woman before?"
"Likewise. I have always kept to myself." He again stated truthfully. "I don't see it possible with all my time reserved for the university."
"Oh," his mother said, her smile dropping a bit but wholly kept up still. To Melissa, the impression of someone falling for her brother was very difficult to imagine. The idea of a person's existence to be able to put up with his indifference and rather harsh behavior, she found it hard to believe.
"Then do you mean you're open to the possibility? If you have the time?"
"Not by a minuscule of chance, and it is not about the time, mother." He began with the longing ardor to show them both what they were missing from his take.
"It is about more important factors out there. It is about the things I could do to make true, proper changes in the world. I –" He closed his mouth shut, stopping from saying his name aloud. Then he slowly resumed, "I, a physicist of thousands, can and will only wish to bring forth another semblance of life to this world. And this 'life' is not one to create with a partner."
His sister could already see their mother was now following her train of thought as that smile had fully fallen.
Mary could not think of a response; she was slightly stoned and disappointed, though the tenderness for her son did not waver.
Dr. Cooper shook his head as if to physically confirm her dejections. "Hence, I do not dream of marrying."
She only nodded when he added, "What good will it be to fulfill this never ending cultural discontent and frittering away my life with another individual when the future needs my support?"
"With that attitude, I guess any time soon, a woman will see through this wall of good meaning." Mary commented with sass and a hint of mordacity.
Even after all those years, she could read her son like the manual papers of a tractor.
Yikes. Melissa was about to witness a prize match between them; her mama was seemingly preparing herself in nagging him to tie the knot despite knowing full well that he was incapable of loving, while her brother readied himself in automatic onguard to put down the curious cat and extinguish for what was to come.
Mary received a knowing look from Melissa with a warning: this talk will scare him off.
I'm only going to warm that idea up to him, the undeniable message from the older woman's face gave off. He cannot stay single forever.
The older woman was dearly hoping to see her son find that 'special someone' as she did not want to leave this earth, without the relieving peace that he was not going to walk on with his life alone. She knew he had already done so, for the great portion of the beginning of his life, yet it was by her deep yearning that he shall not continue the rest of it by himself with no one by his side. He may have had the blessed friendships back from college, yet even those three gentlemen would grow old, find their other halves, and build their own families. Ultimately, in the end.. he would have no one. And if she were honest with herself, she did not know how much time was left for her. He may not know now, but he may regret it later.
"Perhaps you've not met the right person." Mary carefully remarked, twirling her teacup.
He did not say a word, so she gently braved forward.
"Ya know, hon, I know that you and I… we have different beliefs, and you might say you do not believe some things— love being one of them— and think you don't have the potential to offer your heart to anyone, but you should not be closed off from everything. You might lose something that cannot be retrieved, lose time that cannot be reversed, and lose that one in a million whom you can't take back."
Still, no reply from him, however, he was now looking at her.
"Who knows, there may already be a person in front of your very nose... yet your eyes are not seeing."
.
.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
.
.
"What can I say, marriage is just not in the cards for him," the woman was rubbing her belly as they stood outside Mrs. Cooper's front porch of limestone rock and cream walls. They watched him depart and journey on his way back to the closest train station.
Mrs. Cooper let out a sigh.
"Sometimes it takes a good push for that little chick to fly."
"Unless that chick falls flat on its beak before realizing. The next thing you know, he's throwing a meaner tantrum than a two-dollar rattlesnake."
"Ya know that I mean well, Missy. I care about your brother so much, and just because he's really well off, it still doesn't mean I don't worry about him to death. When he was just a kiddie, and he got all tough with me, I only got tougher with him. I guess it was a way to straighten him out."
"Don't start blaming yourself. We all knew how bubby bub was ever since. His little self had always been an odd one out and having no business with anyone else."
This did not appease her mother's somber gaze at the man's fading back.
"I'll head back in to wash up," she patted her daughter's back before going back inside.
At that, Melissa heard the last crack of her heart tearing apart when she witnessed the last evidence of her mother's devastation.
She stood there in the empty garden with white butterflies floating in the air and settling on nectar.
The view of her brother was disappearing.. and disappearing..
Without thinking through what she was about to do, Missy just knew she had to release her anguish. This time, it shall not be on her mother.
With her three-pound, enlarged abdomen, she moved with all her strength towards Dr. Cooper and called after him.
Turning around to her hollers, the man was signaled to retrieve his steps and he met her halfway.
"When will you visit again?"
His eyelids dropped. Is this what he had come back for?
"We are a backwater place," Dr. Cooper replied. "The train journey to Phoenix alone takes most of a day."
To hear his answer, she had finalized his motives.
"You are trying to avoid us, ain't you?"
His body slumped in question. Where was this coming from?
"What, what are you saying?"
"I see what you're doing here again. You're going back but with no intentions of returning anytime soon."
"Make of it what you will, I am confused as to the origin of your impracticality–"
"Damn it, Sheld–" Then she immediately pulled herself together. "Just tell me the truth." Her trill was given out by the heavy, quavering timbre.
He subsequently saw it in her face. Sorrow.
"For most of the years, I've been trying to get ahold of you, but you never bothered checking up on us."
"I've been kicked into and stipulated with a prep secondary school from the house. What does it indicate for the three of you? Not that I was overset with the events, because all I thought when I was away was that I could've been sent to a better faction." He said, his volume rising.
"Did you think Mama had wanted it? Because if you have forgotten, mother, George, and I did not want you to leave, yet you did!"
"I did not have a choice."
"You did!" She yelled.
The physicist clamped his hands on either side of his hips. His tongue felt like a brick by her words.
"Even if I had, it seems like there was a consensus between all of you, that I'd make things worse." He said.
He looked at his sister's face. It had not changed one bit when she was little. The similar display of the corners of her mouth being drawn downwards and her bottom eyelids pulling up with its dramatic shape of crescents.
"I had needed you. George was there, but you were not… Sometimes, you don't know it but– you do, in fact, underestimate yourself."
Melissa knew she shouldn't but she couldn't help herself. All her understanding and patience ran out with him and now emotions were taking its toll on her. On them both, as word by word, the river that was kept behind the dam for so long was instantaneously breaking through the tiny cracks.
"After those several months, I had no reason to come back," he started, prompting his sibling to shake her head.
"So you are, so you are... You have gone and stayed away just for your selfishness when you made mother think of you all the time, no matter how far from home you were."
"You've never been so wrong, Missy… you do not know what you're saying."
"Really not?" She asked. "And do you know how often.. your mother wrote to ya? And thus far, you've never written back! She has never ever received a single letter from you!"
He held his tongue as he saw Melissa overheated. Initially, he had thought that perhaps it was the hormones that were influencing her mood swings.. but their conversation was beginning to greatly affect him. It was taking them down the border of something he feared to come.
"At least I visit mama now and then! Even when there are a million things in my hands. If you think it's so hard to believe in your not-so-bright sister, I also got a full time job at the florist shop, a partner in my life, big events to come, and a mother who thinks she failed her son!"
The past had driven them all apart, whether they tried to surpass it or not. But Dr. Cooper could not. Oh, he just couldn't.
It is I who have failed her. Failed you all. His blood boiled, his heart in his throat, and his lips dried. A storm, a whirlwind found its way into his brain. Distress was taking control of his body. It was so subtle that sometimes he did not even notice the increasing palpitation in his chest and the blocked air in his windpipe. Slowly and delicately, he was detrimentally suffering inside like he predicted he would before he arrived.
"You are always busy! So carried away that you don't seem to care! And my engagement is no less tossed in the wind like it's nothing but dust to you. Taking it for granted, you have forgotten the family you have left." She did not stop, her volume was inevitably and deeply laced with fire.
"You're almost like poppa!"
At last, the fire burnt him.
"Don't ever compare me with that vile creature, ever!" His outburst put an end to her shouts and the bubbles within her died down.
She chewed her lip. Melissa stopped herself, now feeling sorry for her rashness when she saw his face.
"I am nothing like... I beg you, don't speak of him again."
"But do you not want to know what happened to your father?"
"No, I do not." He snapped. "I do not desire to see him."
Melissa looked away, her hands on her hips and not saying anything more.
He took it as a cue to leave. Before going down the other path, he looked at her engagement band on her ring finger.
"Well, be glad sister. You have replaced me with someone better. A new member who shall better fit to be part of this family and in this town."
.
.
.
.
Blaring noises from inhuman wailings and buildings crashing down from the fire were all faint to his ears as all he heard was the crushing sound of gravel beneath his feet. Everything stirred like a slow motion as if Earth decided to rotate laggardly. A little girl, with her back facing him, was now standing a few meters away. He began screaming, but no sound had left his lips. The debris from shattered buildings were now laying where she once stood.
In a flash, the physicist opened his eyes and immediately sat up, pushing back the duvet. He found sweat stained to his forehead and his pajama shirt damped with sheer sweat. He quickly turned to scan the room and saw nothing but darkness. His body felt benumbed under the sheets.
That god awful dream again. His head laid heavily back on his pillow and looked at the ceiling with a huge sigh. Then once again, he tried closing his eyes, controlling his breath steadily. The visit back inside that forlorned house stirred up wretched memories of the times he wished to forever abandon. Little did he realize that he was compressing his loved ones as a part of them. He did not yield the power to restrain his shadows and separate them from reality, nor did he know how to.
For a scientist, he knew everything from atoms to moving objects, from carbons to the biggest life form on earth… yet he did not know anything. Perhaps he was deluded about who he truly was.
Stripped him of all his fancy degrees and praises, and he was left as just as nothing but an ordinary man. No, worse yet– extraordinary in a negative connotation.
When all he wanted was things to be under his solid authority, everything was out of control. Maybe that was what drew him to love stability so much.
"What's wrong, Cooper? Why ya crying? Did that wittle bite from the doggie hurt you so?" Distinctive childlike speech echoed through his buried head beneath his arms. Laughter ensued. "Hey guys, get a lookie at this baby. Where's yer sissy? Ain't she supposed to protect you like last time?"
It was a tendency for the middle schoolers to repeat certain phrases or use simpler vocabulary. For the beautiful, juvenile seedlings, the youngsters may also express emotions more openly and with greater intensity than adults, which can add to their sweet charm and appeal. They had the ability to evoke innocent quality with their sing-song pitch and convey a sense of playfulness, curiosity, and wonder. But those were not at all how his little self would describe his peers. For, in his juvenescence, the people he knew had the propensity to be so.. heinous. And it was solely he whom they were hateful and evil to.
"Run home to your mommy, turkey turkey."
"Hey, we ought to help him, fellas." Came the phoney suggestion. "But we ain't done with him yet."
He rigidly turned on his side, kicking his comforter off his waist.
His young self had always known his eccentricity was what got the children to make fun of him.
Even then he could never fix his ticks– he always had a thing with germs, a thing with numbers, and he got a lot of that precision in finishing tasks. There were a lot of interesting features to him that make him technically unconventional. With few visits to the doctor, his mother found his ticks to be somewhat a close pointer to obsessive compulsive disorder. His type of behavior was only discovered ten years ago from now by Viennese pediatrician Hans, who observed the individuals who came to be regarded as having unique impairments of imagination, social interaction, and communication. But at the time, treatment for such oddity was very limited, and with closer assessments, his case was concluded to be uncertain.
Most of these children were placed in institutions, far from the public eye, to live out their lives. Professionals commonly held the view that 'refrigerator mothers' were responsible for the symptoms observed in these children.
Thereupon Mary Cooper took it upon herself to shield him from that notion, brushing every skeptic mowing down their way by the public.
"Whose child is it?" The other mothers would whisper to each other.
Perhaps it was not for just his good, but for her own. For she may already have grasped the supposition of what others may discern her as his parent and did not want to demolish her illustrious image she carried in the church and in their county.
They were better off without him.
He had many things that were a can of worms– often it was easy to open them and difficult to close them.
All that were under the umbrella of Dysfunction, for there is truly much in this world that needs fixing for all. That plus his brain that can only do too little to quell his problems. Maybe that was what he had been to them. A mere problem.
He was destined to be alone, and he accepted that fact many years ago.
The devil that lurked, he had come to terms with it.
"I'm glad you're happy," were Mary's last words that noon before he left.
I am.
The soft oscillation of the curtains softly danced to the wind and he alluded to slumber.
.
.
.
And in the end, we were all just humans; drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
.
.
.
.
.