where are the birthday candles, mother asks me, the drawers fling open, the balloons scatter across the shiny white tiles of the house you are seeing for the first time. come in, i tell you, put your bags down and help me find my candles. who is that, mother asks, her eyebrows burrowed, focused, unreadable, i feel your breath on my neck, it’s my friend, i say, and i step away
i’ve not seen her before, mother says, but her tone betrays her, she has decided what you are, and for a moment i wonder why i have let this collision happen. your hand brushes my back and i jolt, forwards, into a show i have hosted since childhood. no, you’ve not, she’s from university, i lie through my teeth, performing as the person my mother wants me to be
where are the candles, she asks again, and now you begin to fling drawers open, and the balloons bounce out of your way as my head sweeps along the space which you traverse with her, a dangerous dance of fire and smoke, i step backwards, close my closet doors, and come out donning the skin of the shameful person i once was
here, sit down (get away), just over there by the tv (let’s not do this), i’ll find my candles (i’m so sorry), my other friends will be arriving soon (please forgive me)
i fling the drawers open, but the candles are nowhere to be found, and neither am i. in these four walls, i remain missing, and you watch me skin myself alive, bless your heart you’re still here, do you still love me? will you forgive me? this is the price i pay for fragile authenticity —
yes here the candles i have found them!
later when the drawers have closed and the balloons have scattered and the friends have arrived, my mother inches forward, her hand shielding the flame of the candles, and like a lost puppy i scan the room for your face, but you have hidden yourself, amongst the ordinaries, amongst the life i have been dealt, the life you have embraced
make a wish, mother says, and when you refuse my stare with your glistening eyes, i replace it with the incandescence of the fire and i wish
and i wish
- Micah Seiri
(Illustration by Miles Munich Montreal Jimenez/FEU Advocate)