Katrina

The Girl Who Was

The shattering of the china cup echoed throughout the room, its contents staining the white rug yellow. Footsteps approached, the maid rushed in and the shards clinked against the metal edge of the dustpan.

None of this Evelyn heard, nor noticed, as she attempted to steady her trembling hand. The sound of bees hammered through her mind, drowning out the maid’s questions of concerns. It couldn’t possibly be, she thought to herself, as she saw only the plain white envelope on the coffee table, evidence of a past she desperately tried to hide.

At first, she hadn’t recognised the handwriting, for it had been years since she had had to read Chinese. She laboured over each character, over and over again, trying to find the right meaning to match the set of characters scrawled over the envelope. But when she registered it, it was like the impossible had come true.

‘Chen Xin Yi’

***

“Chen Xin Yi!”

Veins bulged from the side of her father’s neck, as his face reddened immediately. Noticing the sudden rise in his volume, he blew out a heavy sigh as he attempted to calm down, in fear of the neighbours eavesdropping, or so he thought.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he whispered angrily.

Xin Yi kept quiet. She knew nothing she said would pacify the hateful glare she longed to disappear. She sat squirming on the small wooden stool, the only piece of furniture in the room apart from a low wooden table in the corner of the room, as she waited for the sting across her face.

“Stay in this room and this room only. Do you hear me?”

Xin Yi nodded meekly, feeling a familiar warm trail run down her swollen cheeks.

“Thank the Lord I decided to register Guo Liang as my child instead of you,” he muttered scathingly before leaving the room, the door shaking dangerously in its frame.

***

The front door closed almost noiselessly, followed by the hustling of footsteps as Anthony Grayson approached the living room. He noticed Evelyn sitting rigid on the sofa, her eyes glassed over as though taken into another world.

“What is that?” he asked bluntly, nodding at the white envelope she held onto for dear life.

Evelyn didn’t reply, her mind still consumed by her memories.

Just as he reached for the envelope, Evelyn roughly pulled it tightly to her chest, but not before he caught a glimpse of the Chinese characters scrawled messily across it.

He nodded at the letter, his eyes burning holes into the envelope in an attempt to uncover the letter within.

 “Probably the wrong address,” she muttered hastily, hurriedly stuffing the blazing reminder behind a cushion.

He raised an eyebrow disbelievingly, but made no further comment.

Evelyn waited until he left, retrieving the envelope from behind the red embroidered cushion.

Her hands itched to open it, but her sanity prevented her from reliving the painful memories of the past. Before she knew what she was doing, the letter was torn into shreds, fragments of the letter peeking out from within the restraints of the envelope. It was alright, she told herself. It was the right decision. There was no need to be tied down by the invisible ropes of the past.

Anthony strode back into the living room, loosening his tie as he sat himself down onto the sofa. Like a daily routine after work, he turned on the television, his eyes instantly glued from the moment he saw a football match.

But over the yells and hollers of the fans, they could hear the desperate calls of a frail voice from outside.

David threw the remote onto the coffee table, the impact of plastic against glass startled Evelyn. Grumbling, he picked it up, pushing the volume up as the commentator’s voice continued to be drowned by the woman’s cries. “Take care of her, won’t you? She’s making my ears bleed,” he murmured distractedly, punching the same button angrily.

Evelyn stood up and left quietly, the blood pounding in her ears, drowning out the sound of her footsteps as she dragged her feet to the front door as though she was walking into the pathway of hell.

The woman’s voice was unmistakable. Even if years of aging took away her strength, the way she called her name was horrifyingly familiar, laced with the sweet venom that had pierced her heart over and over again.

***

Hues of purple peeked out from underneath her mother’s sleeve as she hastily pushed a single lolly into Xin Yi’s hand.

Xin Yi stared at it, rolling the hard candy in between her fingers. Bringing it to her nose, she sniffed it once, twice, indulging the scent of sweet strawberry.

“Put it in your mouth, Xin Yi,” her mother coaxed gently, whilst frantically shooting glances over her shoulder. For anyone in this house, treading into this room was like stepping into the path of a hawk’s eyes.

Xin Yi obeyed, savouring the rare sweetness that flooded her mouth.

“Hurry up!” her mother scolded. “Before anyone sees!”

But even as she said it, she couldn’t escape the breadwinner’s familiar, hostile stare as he appeared ghost-like in the room.

“I caught her stealing our sweets. I was about to reprimand her,” Evelyn’s mother instantly said, her eyes as cold as stone.

Xin Yi’s eyes widened. She tried to speak, to deny her crime, but the rock hard candy prevented her from speaking, but nothing would had faltered his stride. She knew what was to come.

***

“Chen Xin Yi?”

Evelyn watched the old woman who was undoubtedly her mother hobble slowly towards her, leaning heavily on the thin walking stick that seemed to tremble under her support. She realised that it had been raining; the pavement had yet to dry and her mother’s clothes were sodden. How long had she been here?

“I have not heard that name in a while,” Evelyn answered, appearing much more composed than she actually felt.

“I’ve looked for you for a while. Years and Years,” her mother continued as her hands, weathered by decades of housework, reached towards her.

 “Will you forgive me?”

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