“Mommy, can I have some more candies?” Luna
squirmed desperately under her mother’s feet.
“No. Honey, you already had several today. Wait
until tomorrow”, said her mother clearly. Then, the girl’s face started to redden,
and her eyes which were about to explode with tears were directly fixed on her
mothers.
Her mother, who first seemed firm in her
decision, eventually succumbed to the kid as soon as she started crying in a
shrill voice. The mother gave the little girl a candy in her hands, but the
girl who was not satisfied with it continued crying.
“Luna, I will give you some more, but
promise me that you will stop crying. Ok?” Luna stared at her for a second and
expressed her acceptance by gently nodding her head. When her mother brought a
handful of candies, Luna stopped crying and was perfectly content. She gave
some of them to me as she unwrapped some of hers in her hand. Whenever I went
to Luna’s house, I could always have a lot of candies in this way, which was
the best thing about her house. Her mother was always vulnerable to Luna. Luna always
gained everything she wanted. Yes, she was always like that…crying.
Thom grabbed his notebook, and started to
write and draw things as usual. He was obsessive with it. He never let other
people including me to look at his journal. He was very sensitive in keeping it
very secret. So I asked him what he was doing on his notebook, but he didn’t
say anything in silence. Thom was a quiet boy. He preferred to keep his
feelings inside. When he spat out the word “mother” four months after his birth,
I was pretty much delighted because other mothers don’t get to hear it that
early. I thought Thom would grow to become an active and talkative boy. But as he
grew up, he became silent. I first doubted that he didn’t properly attained
language. He is now six but he still doesn’t say much. I was really surprised to
see him writing something on the notebook for the first time. For sure, he was
writing in English, and even in the form of a long prose. My concern for his
deficiency in learning language was completely relieved since then. And another
new concern came into my mind, which kind of made me feel more anxious. If he
knew English, why wouldn’t he express his feelings verbally?” Once, I talked over
this to my husband Jim.
“You know he keeps a little journal with him.
He just won’t let me read it. I have no idea what he is doing on it, but he certainly
wrote a lot so far. How can he do that? You know how old he is?”
“Yeah, he is turning 9, right? Then, he is
now a third grader.”
“Are you kidding me Jim? You can’t even
remember our son’s age? He is six, damn it.”
“I was kidding, yeah, he’s already six!
Phew! Time flies. Maybe our cute little six year old boy has a lot of things
going in his mind, I guess? Come on, what would he be doing with it? He’s just playing
with it. I used to scribble things down too when I was young.”
“You know nothing about him because you are
always outside working. As far as I remember, I couldn’t do that when I was
six. He is like, writing a lengthy prose! And also he never talks first. All he
says are simple “yeses” and “noes” to my questions.”
“OK. Let’s suppose that Thom is a…genius. You
know that geniuses are kind of like that. They just have so many inner thoughts
in their head. Leave him alone. He also has his right to keep his privacy.”
“I know, that’s why I didn’t try to look at
it, and instead feel almost dying to know what’s inside!”
“Just, don’t worry about it too much. Maybe
you’re underestimating kids. They also have things to think about.”
There was another problem with Thom, which
I didn’t talk about to Jim. Thom slept a lot. When he was not writing, he was
usually sleeping. Even though, he usually went to bed at the right time around
10.p.m, he frequently dozed on the table. After I had prepared the meal, I
often had to wake him up to make him eat. He is indeed sleeping more than he is
awake. When I wake him up, he often gave me a glaring look of those black eyes.
It sometimes scared me. He extremely hated others waking him up.
One day, I saw him lying down on the
backyard of the house. I ran straight to him with a great astonishment. But I
found him sleeping quietly as if nothing had happened. I found him sleeping in
weird places for several times after that, and I realized he suffers from
narcolepsy. I couldn’t even send him to kindergarten for that reason.
The real world looked almost exactly the
same. The only difference was that it was more “real”. There are real people,
real houses, and real streets under the real sky. I left my house and treaded
along the street. The sun was shining brightly high up above. The weather was
just perfect. People passing by seemed all happy as they gave me a pleasant
look of smile on their faces. They were all real. When I reached the park, the
great oak trees and the robust grasses greeted me. I went under the shade of
the biggest tree, and sat there in peace. The nice green summer breeze blew
over my head, and I took a deep breath to feel the freshness of the air. The scenery
was just mesmerizing. People in the surroundings seemed to feel the same way. I
hoped I could stay here forever. But I knew I couldn’t. Soon after, as I
expected, the sky started to turn darker. The massive clouds were coming at a
fast speed. People all ran off and disappeared. It all just happened in such a
short time. Heavy raindrops fell from the sky, and I was left alone in the rain.
I felt so queer in this world.
After a long contemplation, I came up to a
conclusion that I must look at Thom’s notebook. Thom was still sleeping. I went
to his desk and pulled out the first drawer in which he keeps his journal in
store. The first cover of the notebook said “The reality”. Certainly, this was
not like a title that a 6 year old boy would give to his journal. I opened it
and on the first page it said,
“This
is not reality. It’s a fake.”
“What does he mean by that?” I wondered. I
flipped through several pages, and came across a drawing that just made me
speechless. The drawing depicted the house right across the street. It was not
at all like a picture drawn by a 6 year old boy. Every detail of it was fully expressed
through delicate touch of lead. I never knew that he drew so well. It was just
remarkable. I felt good about Thom’s genius talents at art. Besides the
drawing, on the adjacent page, some words were also written down.
Luna’s
mother is so vulnerable. Luna gets everything she wants. The best thing about
going over to Luna’s house is that I can have as many candies as I want. I want
to visit her house more often. Luna is my good friend who is definitely real.
I grew really curious of this girl. Who is
Luna? Is she his girlfriend or something? I sometimes left him alone at home, and
I never knew Thom went over to the house across the street. Probably, Luna is
the name of the girl living in that house. But still I had no idea what that “reality”
thing was all about? The next page contained even more awe-inspiring picture.
It resembled the central park of the town. A boy in the picture was sitting
under the shade of a tree. I looked at the face of the boy closely, and was
surprised to find that it greatly resembled Thom. He looked happy in the picture
as expressed. I now had a firm conviction that Thom was totally a genius at
art. Then on the next page, the park was drawn in a completely different weather.
It was raining and the boy seemed rather alone in the rain. Again, a few words
beneath it said, “THE REALITY”. I turned to the front pages which I had skipped
in precedence. A lengthy prose read,
Since
it was hard to differentiate them due to its great similarity, I keep this
journal for reminding myself the truth. I must not forget that everything I am
seeing, hearing, and feeling here are not real. It’s all fiction….What is life?
Suddenly then, a violent rush came behind my
back with a screaming sound. Thom urgently took his notes from my hand, and
started pounding me as hard as he can. He yelled at me crying:
“Don’t you dare touch my notebook! You fake
horrible ghost!”
“
