CALL ME TARA
CALL ME TARA
Mellow.
I’ve not met Nectar or Yolie since they left for Country P. I never planned to. But the news of Christopher united us.
Two years ago, I was in a terrible place. Betrayed by my staff. Harassed by the public. Forced to seclude myself. So much more.
I got rid of my phone, then pulled away from the city to live in a rural area, in a house where only Zeath and my kids knew, and only them could contact.
However, early this morning, Zeath suddenly visited the house after being busy in the city throughout this week. He showed me the painting Blank did and posted online. And I knew without even thinking twice that he was Christopher, and he was speaking to me.
He had probably tried to contact me several times and failed, then decided to use this method to get my attention.
Now I’m sitting in Yolie’s house—a place I never knew I would ever step foot into—eagerly waiting. Watching the flower pot resting on the window sill. Replaying the moment when I saw the artwork over and over in my head.
“Hey, Mellow,” I hear Yolie’s voices from behind me before she comes around and hands me a cup of coffee.
“Thank you,” I mouth as I receive the cup, instinctively drinking from it.
“How have you been?” she asks while sitting at the edge of the couch adjacent mine.
I nod. “Zeath told me several times that you asked after me. Thanks for caring.”
Yolie smiles weakly. “With all the rumors that crawl into the internet once in a while, I knew it wasn’t easy.”
“I haven’t sent a response to your letter. But I want you to know how much it healed me. And thank you for telling us about Christopher.”
Yolie chuckles. “I literally only complained to Zeath about Nectar.”
“Yet the complain helped.”
I had tried Christopher’s previous number after hearing the news, but it seemed he ditched it.
He has a social media for his artworks, yet I’m so sure he doesn’t operate it on his own. Plus, we aren’t following each other. Literally, any message I send to him there would end up in spam.
We could have still contacted each other one way or the other through all these ways, but it would have taken quite longer. Traveling to Country P was the easiest way to meet him today. I’m sure that Zeath will convince Nectar to come around, she’ll spill Christopher’s address.
Speak of the girl, she suddenly screeches. I glance back to see her gleefully hugging Zeath.
“It’s scarce to see her this way,” Yolie says while staring at the girl with eyes drowned in a mother’s love. I shift in my position to properly look at Nectar too. Seeing her jumping while hugging Zeath from the side, I can’t help but remember Eryis.
She would have been around the same age as Nectar if she were alive, and I would have been trying to maintain one young adult while battling with three teenagers.
Zeath and I had one more girl and two boys. It’s been a thrilling experience all these years, and more better with Zeath by my side.
Nectar skips to my couch and rests her weight against it, handing me her phone. “I copied Blank’s phone number from a contract I signed with him, aunt Mellow. But we haven’t exchanged calls yet. I don’t even think he would copy mine as well. And I heard he doesn’t pick calls from strange numbers, but do try your luck.”
Christopher truly hasn’t changed. I should have noticed the similarities between he and Blank Patriarc, their love for the same kind of things, and their attitudes toward social exchanges.
“Dial the number,” I softly tell Nectar. I kind of feel guilty for using a harsh tone on her earlier.
She does as I say and gives me the phone. Christopher picks the call on first ring, which is quite shocking unless he had saved Nectar phone number as well.
However, I don’t find the courage to say anything. I tried to speak once, but I had the feeling that once I said even a word, I would burst into tears.
Christopher doesn’t speak as well. He still has his habit of remaining silent on a call for the other person to speak first.
Once, he told me he did it with me so he could hear my soft breaths. But now I think it’s just him having a mind competition—a sort of who talks first thingy—unless he knows it’s Nectar calling him and wants to hear her breathing too.
“Mellow?” his voice finally comes through. No stutter. No hesitation. More of anticipation and excitement.
I couldn’t help but break down instantly, pressing my palm against my mouth and I quickly cut the call and throw the phone on the couch.
I only calm down a little when I feel Zeath’s hand snake onto my shoulder before massaging the point where my shoulders meets my neck.
“What happened, Mellow, why did you disconnect the call?” he asks softly.
I sniffle, my voice muffled as I speak into my palm. “He’s coming.”
“He said that?”
“No.” I shake my head. “But he’s coming.”
I burst into crying again. No matter how I try, I couldn’t stop the tears from coming down. They’re not tears of sadness. They’re tears of joy. Tears of relief.
It took me years of grieving to finally accept that Christopher was no more. Finding out he’s alive only sort of lifts a weight off my shoulders. So I succumb to it, determined to let it all out.
It’s only ten minutes later that I finally get to calm down. However, I still can’t find the mood to talk.
While Zeath sits next to me and holds me in his arms, Yolie remains in her position, and Nectar still stands behind my couch.
However, when the doorbell rings, our formation breaks.
Yolie quickly stands to get the door just as fast as Zeath and I turn toward the exit.
The moment the guest shows up through the door, I don’t know when I slowly stand up. And if Zeath hadn’t held me, I would have fallen back into the couch.
“Chri… Christopher?” I mutter, my voice barely heard beneath the croaks of my emotions.
Christopher huffs a smile. “I thought this was one of those moments where you’ll likely chew your tongue, Tara.”
He stressed the ‘Tara’, and I burst into laughter and tears at the same time. “You don’t know how much I missed hearing you call me Tara.”
Christopher smiles. Even that hasn’t changed. “Come here,” he encourages while spreading his arms wide.