Ephemeris

10 : Dominoes of Catastrophes

A startling honk from the garbage truck shocked Daniel while standing tensely on a stool, tipping on one side. The waste collectors collected and hauled the rubbish out of the trash bins sitting sedentary along the street sidewalks. The clunk and clink of the metallic bins rattled the soundless morning, ruining the soothing peace of San Maler.

The kid was in the withered garden. Its bushes were yellow, and the flowers were brown. He was tiptoeing on a stool, his torso rigid and his arms stretched aloft, trying to grasp the rocking clothesline. Hanging on his shoulder was a washed curtain dripping wet. He tossed it over the clothesline, hopped off the wooden chair, and reached the other end of the curtain, pulling it until both ends were even in length.

The garbage truck engine revved, and tires screeched sharply, leaving their street in a flash. He spun his head and caught his attention by the fading blare of the rusty truck while his feet were sipping from the droplets dripping from the soaked curtain in his hands. For a second, he was lost, blank of what to do next. Move your muscles, Daniel. It's not yet time to take a break, he thought.

He lifted his head and drove the invitation of lethargy away. He playfully wrung the curtain with his thin arms by turning and turning several times, twirling round and round with his feet shuffling naughtily on the ground. Almost all the water in each fiber of the textile was extracted dry. He stepped again on the stool, fixed the fabric wide, reached for the clothespins dangling on the edges of his white shirt, and secured the curtain.

Lying on the withered grass was a huge basin crammed with other multi-colored curtains. Daniel sprung from the stool, eager for another curtain to twist and squeeze. The flat, sewn lips of his curved into a smile. He made hanging washed laundry a fun chore, tossing, twirling, and twisting. "Done!" he smiled, displaying his pearly white teeth, panting from vigorous activity. His clothes were all soaked from the wringing. He was dripping wet like a puppy waterlogged after a bath.

Daniel halted by the main door and looked back outside. His corneas hazed with gladness when he noticed that the curtains he hung made the dying garden alive once more. The monochromic lawn, a worn-out canvas before, magically transformed into a polychromatic masterpiece. The depth and textures of patterns and hues of the textiles somehow lifted the curse. "I bet the neighbors would have been intimidated by our garden," he said as if someone else was listening.

He twisted the doorknob and entered the door. He was dazzled by the intense illumination of sunlight that freely passed through the undraped windows of the living room. His pupils contracted, hurting his sight. His vision got blurry and swirling. A memory triggered from behind his mind.

———————

"Daniel is back!" a girl yelled, leaning on the sofa.

Daniel lowered his head, panting, and saw his snowy sweat-soaked shirt. Halfway through the funeral service, he slipped away and ran several blocks to punish himself. He thought that it could aid him in brushing the tragic night off from his troubled thoughts.

A lovely woman gave him an embrace. "It is not your fault, boy. It is not your doing," she whispered in his reddish ears.

"What's with the downcast face? The baby is safe now and is in a place far from here, without pain and suffering. The baby is up there," another woman said, pointing her finger skyward.

"It's an accident, kid. An accident!" A mustached man said, dusting off his dark brown fedora.

The woman loosened her embrace and let Daniel breathe. He trod his way across the living room, lit by striking brightness. It is supposed to be gloomy. It's a funeral. What irony! It's perplexing. I must wear my mask of grief amidst this glow, he thought.