Sometimes I wonder if everything has already been decided for me. No, I know what you are thinking--fate is sealed. I believe it. But there are moments in your life where you feel like you have changed the course of your fate and have won something. Anything.
My life felt as if it were concrete, somebody else sealed my experiences, my expectations, and my ambitions. Oh! My ambitions never exceeded my concrete destiny of taking care of someone.
Ever since I could remember situations as a child, I remember helping or taking care of people. It could be the drunk, angry dad I remember, my hyper-active teenage friends, or my own siblings who were destined to take after the legacies of our drunk, angry dad. So without my knowledge, or consent, I was navigating my life by looking after people. I don't even know when it became a conscious choice.
I feel comfortable around people who can express their feelings, especially anger. No matter how dramatic they be. If they can express it, I feel safe around them. I am used to people breaking things, throwing things (not at me), and shouting and screaming. I feel glad and at peace when I see them letting go of their emotions with such ease. With that being said, the opposite sort of person terrifies me. They are the ones who hold in their anger and bottle up those emotions that could cause catastrophe and ruin lives if left unattended. That sort of person I happened to meet as a form of my boyfriend.
Whenever he would be angry, I would stay a little away from his personal bubble and coax him into uttering whatever was bothering him. Often times, he would see me flinch at the venomous words that he would spew and stop mid sentence. My heart would feel numb, the brain would stop processing, and I could only stare blankly at his retreating figure.
I know you must be thinking of him as a good-for-nothing, rage-filled man of the earth. But I should mention that he loves me very much. His affection for my presence in his life is priceless. The very reason he always stops himself is to hide the side of him that might scare me. He once said, if I were to unleash his anger, I might never be able to forgive him for what he would do (to me). On normal days, he took care of me, attending to my emotional and financial needs, saying what was his, was mine too. But his anger... I was to stay clear of it.
Impulsively stubborn as I was, I could not let that side of him slide. What if someone more able than I started taking care of his anger. What would that make of me? I had to think of something. I had to do something.
Sadly, or should I say, as fate had it, The thought came after it had taken the course of its action.
...
It was the night of a hot autumn, with no hint of a gentle breeze anywhere in the vicinity, on the 25th of August, to be precise. I usually wear my glasses, but that day, the sweaty face had me take off my glasses and wash my face multiple times, just to get oily within half an hour or so. I had discarded my usual modest top and bottom, roaming in my bedroom only in my boy shorts and camisole. My hair was bunched up in my large claw clip, and stray pieces of hair were held away from my face by small clips. The heat didn't even let me read in peace, so I was feeling restless and remained in the house, drinking water.
The key hole rattled and gave a jump scare considering the pin-drop silence that the autumn night had brought. Even though he wasn't used to seeing me in such scant clothing, I thought it would be alright to be in my underwear and explain the circumstance to him. I mean, what could possibly happen?
