The longest dream

Year 11 ENglish

The sounds of eight dogs circling the yard, cars lost in the traffic, school kids savoring the final day of school. The smell of car fumes and cigarette smoke, stagnant water and humidity. Those large sliding doors tinted black, where I had always dropped my bags to absorb the one place in the world where my dreams stirred in with reality. This was the last Summer I’d be spending in the Tan family house before it became the house of another Malaysian family, and I will never forget it.

I toured the house I grew up in wall to wall, room to room, collecting the memories that were made here, after being greeted by the whole family. Undisturbed, as if it was a daily routine for me to roam the house slowly, in silence until I bumped into her, the petite, skinny girl with flowing black hair. I remember her smile tainted with mischief, almost evil. She was a cousin’s best friend, spending her holidays at the house while her parents were travelling the world for their 50th anniversary.
Rachelle was her name and that night, changed my life. I spent dinner telling stories and answering questions, trying to ignore her laugh for the entire hours and a half before moving into the TV room for a movie. That was when the ball started rolling. I remember walking upstairs to be having said goodnight to everyone after the Japanese love story played out on the large TV screen.

I entered the room I had always stayed in, kept the same way it had always been, as if I never left at all. The old recliner on the balcony, the magazines of classic comics tossed on the bed and the lanterns Junior and I made last summer. As I sat on the recliner with a beer on the coffee table and a cigarette in my hand, staring out into the smoggy night sky dotted with tiny glistening stars. She appeared in the doorway of the balcony, sitting on the large, chilled marble tiles looking out into the same night sky as I did. I tried not to take notice until she asked of why I spent so much time sitting on the old black recliner staring out into the night sky. My lack of answers lead her into asking more and more questions, until I told her my name, and asked her why she took so much interest into why I did the same things every summer. I never answered why. Just put out my cigarette finished my beer and crawled into bed with her still sitting on the floor staring at the foot of the bed. I could tell she wasn’t interested in leaving the room so I asked her whether she’d want to read my old comics. The night lead on early into the morning until both of us fell asleep on the same bed, in the same room, under the same covers.

The summer went on and we grew closer, spent more and more time together. Hugs became embraces, embraces became kisses, and before I knew it, there were two old recliners on the balcony. Everyone knew we were fond of each other, yet we never admitted it. The summer of my life went on like a dream, and we both knew my wake-up call was coming very soon. The night before I left was spent talking about past experiences, happy memories, sad memories and figuring out whether fate had a part to play in our meeting. We both silently confessed out feelings, and fell asleep at five in the morning with the first rays of the sun lighting up the grim darkness. As the dinner bell chimed, we both rose to stare at each other before racing downstairs to scoff dinner as always.

The last few hours were spent staring at each other once again, under the covers until she spoke the words “I love you.” My whole world, all the beatings, scratches and cuts it’s received felt whole again because of those three words. All of my regrets, grudges and sorrows were tossed away simply by those three words, the three words that hold me by the throat, screaming at me. Reminding me of how eagerly we wait to each other every summer. How eagerly I wait to find those black sliding doors, ever so welcoming our return.