My mom picks me up from school and drives home in silence. That only happens when she's planning how to defeat someone. Verbally, of course. But who?
I glance at her. It's like the game of duck, duck, goose! She circles everyone in the house with her silence, studying her next victim. Then - "GOOSE!" Too bad if you're not ready for the run.
I watch her hands on the wheel, the way she clamps them feels like she's circling our family in her head, picking the next victim.
And then she taps her chosen goose, and a tap could be a simple "You're going out wearing that? You look like a slut", said too casually for you to even feel the full weight of those words.
Sometimes she 'taps' too hard or even 'punches', where in the end, you end up crying no matter how old you are, you even regret being born. She has a powerful bark, like a sea lion.
The 'taps' and 'punches' can come in forms of rains of curses, flashbacks of what happened years ago, guilt traps, lies, shouting, and manipulation – that's how you shout 'goose' in our family game.
Then, the goose eventually recovers from the 'tap' (or 'punch') and gets up to chase and get revenge. There is always running:
Either my dad running to the bar, my sister running to her house, my mom running to her car, me running to my bedroom, or my sister's cat running to the neighbour's house.
Once the goose catches the runner and feels somewhat relieved for their revenge – it starts all over again, the goose becomes the attacker, the silent one, circling our family, thirsty to release their left-over tension.
And that's how my mom attacks my dad, my dad attacks me, I attack my sister's cat by pulling its tail, and then I feel bad that it scratches my big sister as she tries to stop the whole thing from happening. She gets angry at me but not for too long.
Sometimes I 'counter attack' my dad by standing in front of him while he is angry and drunk, just so he doesn't attack my mom. He doesn't entertain this game of duck, duck, goose, he just swallows everything and ends up drinking to make his problems disappear – they don't. And after all, my dad is not a verbal man – he is a shark, he is silent and with a powerful grip. So in the end, he just accumulates it until the clock down hits zero.
When he comes back there is no lies or guilt traps or shouting. No. There is calculated footsteps in the middle of the night; footsteps that I memorized and know it means danger; the same footsteps that my mom made me pretend to sleep so he doesn't come for me.
He comes for my mother's neck and my presence barely means anything to stop him. Sometimes, when I get in the way too much, I end up getting hit and pushed to the side roughly until I fall on the ground, but if I don't put myself in the way, then what happens next?
I never really put too much thought about it, besides my mom shouting that he wants her dead.
All I could think about is a phrase I heard somewhere I forgot: "Braveness is not about being fearless, it's about fearing something but doing it anyway". I liked that. That's what I would stand on – I would step forward in the middle of them, knowing full well my dad was twice my size, and a man is much, much stronger than a little girl! But with shaking legs and shaky breaths, I would stand firm and let this shark know I am here. I am not invisible. And I am not going to sit and watch my mom get hurt.
I snap back into reality and notice my mom parking the car near our house. Damn it! I have to start paying more attention on the way home if I want to be a big girl and go to school and back home by myself - and not end up lost.
My mom paces inside and goes straight to the kitchen. "Go to your bedroom." She says coldly.
I don't hesitate – good, at least I'm not the goose this time.
I run to the bedroom and finally breathe. I don't know exactly what to expect for tonight but the house is going to shake with shouting, that's for sure.
I try to brush off the growing anxiety. I sit down on my desk, taking out my sketchbook and pencils… What am I going to draw? I start doodling the pencil in circles, this could be bubbles.
I hear my mom starting to cook downstairs, I wonder what she will do for dinner.
My drawing slowly becomes into an angry crab and I laugh at it. He's pinching a shark's tail.
Some hours go by while I keep on drawing random things, I wonder what's taking so long, not that I'm complaining about the silence but my stomach is starting to hurt.
My dad didn't arrive home yet and my mom was still in the kitchen after all this time, I went there to peek and saw that she was doing a whole buffet: Seabreams in the oven with small potatoes, rice, salad, and… was that? – Was that a whole giant chocolate cake?! Is it Christmas? Ah, no, it's still early September.
I widen my eyes and almost drool, I need to ask her why is she doing all this food, although she does look like she will snap at me. Maybe with a compliment?
I give one step forward. "It smells super duper delicious, mom!" I say it with a smile but I was shaking inside. Don't 'goose' me! "Is anyone coming tonight?"
My mom glances under her shoulder at me. "Yes. Your sister; her boyfriend; your aunty and your two cousins are coming for dinner"
I arch an eyebrow. "My cousins?" Which ones? I have loads of them and they barely visit or we go visit them. What's the sudden change?
Bah! Either way, there was chocolate cake, my sister and her pirate boyfriend were coming too.
I walk back to my bedroom.
Her boyfriend is weird. He was tall, scary, bald but with a big black beard! I was not sure if he was fat or if he had big muscles under his leather jacket. If I had to compare him with a water animal, he would be none at all! He would be a pirate travelling the ocean and its creatures fearlessly!
Why? Not only because of his big scary black beard but also because I couldn't think of such scary water animal that is actually a softie inside. Yeah -
He comes with a big motorbike and hears loud rock songs. Wears all black and chains sometimes. But one day when we were having family dinner in my sister's house, I searched under the table to check if my sister's cat was there, but the only cats I saw was on his silly bright-orange socks.
I sat straight and covered my mouth so I wouldn't laugh. The pirate narrowed his eyes to me and smiled – he knew I found out his secret. But he was not mad at me, he definitely was no shark or kraken.
Plus, he was making my sister happy for a very long time, as long as I can remember, and if he could survive our family's crazy side, then he was fit to be called a pirate, fearless and secretly silly!
I think about Ethan. Can a crab survive an ocean of madness? I hope so.