Based on true events

“Mom, I’m hungry! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” I heard the creaks and screeches of my mom’s bed as she tried to get out of it.

“Okay! Okay! Coming!” She yelled, yawning. “Hey, my love. Did you sleep okay?” She patted my head and scratched under my chin. She always did it as if my well-being depended on it. It kinda did.

“I did!” I hugged her warmly.

In the past couple of months, she said that I was being too clingy for my age. Not that I opposed her intuition, but I always wanted to stay with her. She treated me well from the day she brought me home. I was homeless, and she gave me a home and loved me unconditionally. Dad’s affection was different. But I knew deep down he loved me too, perhaps more than Mom.

Last month, Mom decided that it was high time I moved to another room. My own room. It was filled with all kinds of toys. The vibrant walls adorned with butterflies, the cozy bed continuously bathed in tropical sunshine, and having my own bathroom were all dreams come true. Sometimes I wonder what my siblings are doing. Did they find a home like me? Did they survive? Did they get the life that they deserve?

My mother always said that I was the smallest and the weakest of the bunch, and I was the only one who smiled at her. She needed just one child, and she picked the most fragile because she knew I wouldn’t survive on the road. Sometimes, bits and pieces of my past come to me. How I played with my brothers or sisters and how my real mother would bring me something to eat.

“What are you doing, baby?”

“Nothing! I was just thinking. I love this room, Mom.”

“You like your room, don't you? You barely come outside now.”

“It’s not like that.”

“I hope you don’t mind my decision. It’s just that, you know, you’re a light-sleeper, so you’d always wake up when Dad’s playing the guitar or me doing something silly.” She smoothed my hair from the back of her hand.

“You don’t have to explain. I know. I’m big now. Besides, I know you and Dad need some privacy.”

“You’re getting big, alright.” She turned to leave. But I had one question.

“I wanted to ask something: why are your eyes puffy?”

“What?”

“I mean, your eyes are usually sparkly. They are so beautiful. But, in the last couple of weeks, I’ve noticed that your eyes are always red.” I held her arm.

She was agitated and had an expression of astonishment. Was I too direct? She then gently let go of my hand. She got up, quickly reached the door, and hesitated. “You know I haven’t been sleeping much. These past couple of weeks were… stressful. Your dad is exhausted too.”

“I know, I didn’t mean to—”

“Get some sleep.” She shut the door behind her.

Although she wasn’t that vocal, I had noticed many things. Our home is spacious, to the point that some areas are almost empty. Lately, I’ve been seeing that some of our furniture was being sold. We had an elegant table, a sofa, and a TV stand. All were gone within a week. Different men came on different days and bought them all. Today, one of my dad’s acoustic guitars was sold.

Are we just getting by? Is that why they are selling stuff?

In just four weeks, more things were sold. My grandma and grandad visited us more often. Sometimes, Grandma would cry. She often patted my head.

“Why can’t we take her with us?” Grandma demanded.

“You know why! We wouldn’t even be allowed to go outside.” Granddad asserted.

“We can manage.” Grandma pleaded.

“No means no.” He speed-walked to the dining room.

Eavesdropping is wrong, but everybody talks around me as if I were invisible. The minute she opened her mouth, I knew something was wrong. I had no clue what they were planning. But one thing was clear—they were all sad. Why, I did not know.

“Dinner!” My mom yelled after my grandparents left.

“Okay!” I yelled back. I was half asleep but always alert.

“Eat! I don’t have all day!” My mom’s mood was obvious. Whenever my grandparents visited, she seemed off. Then, my dad and I would get caught in the crossfire.

“Sorry, you didn’t do anything.” She apologized.

“It’s okay, Mom. I know.” I held her arm, and she kissed my forehead.

Another month passed, and suddenly my mom said that I needed to go to the hospital. She had been talking to the doctor on the phone, but I couldn’t understand why. But I constantly complained about being restless. I couldn’t sleep at night. I was lethargic in the afternoon. I thought perhaps she wanted me to get checked. It was bothering everyone after all.

“Mom…” I woke up after a long slumber. All I remembered was going to the hospital with my parents. The ride was bumpy. I could still feel the warm sunlight piercing through my brown eyes. Then I tried squinting, and I could imagine my pupils shrinking. The rest was a blur. When I finally woke up, my mom was kneeling beside my bed. She was smoothing my hair. Her bloodshot eyes were a testament to her agony. She wept and wept when Dad came to the room. He took her by the shoulders, and she barely walked out of the room, constantly looking back at me. “Will she be okay?” she asked through her tears, and Dad replied, “Of course, baby. Look, she’s perfectly fine.” The voices faded away, and I moved my head around. My vision was blurred, and my head felt heavy, even though there was no pain. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I felt an itchiness on my belly. I tried to look at it, but I was dressed in a different outfit that was fastened around my neck and legs. I smelled different. I couldn’t hold my head up anymore, and I blacked out.

“Mom…” I woke up again. I felt much better. The dress was removed. I couldn’t shake off my discomfort, yet I was no longer paralyzed.

“There’s our baby! You’re okay now, aren’t you?” Mom was happy, energetic.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You don’t remember? You had an operation. Just a tiny one. Didn’t even take half an hour. You’re fine now, aren’t you, baby?”

“Why?”

“You were restless anyway; it’s for the best.”

“Ah yes,” The restlessness. But I didn’t know that it required an operation.

“You should eat now. I’ll get you something. Don’t fall asleep!”

As soon as she left, I looked at my belly, and there was a small bandage. She was right; I had surgery of some sort. The skin around the bandage looked and felt different too.

“Tomorrow we gotta go visit the doctor again so that she can check your sutures.” She came back with a plate of food and booped my nose.

Sutures? Oh, the wound. I see.

A couple of days passed, and I was up and about again. I heard the doctor say my appetite would skyrocket after the surgery. She wasn’t wrong. I was back at my zoomies, as my mom would say.

“Look at her!” she giggled and yelled at Dad so he could catch my mischief, as I ran down the stairs. “Careful!”

Some of the best days of my life had passed. I felt more loved than ever. My mom would hold me and talk to me in the sweetest words possible. Even if I did something wrong, she wouldn’t punish me.

One day, I followed my mom to the kitchen, and she started cooking something. It smelled delicious. Her cooking was excellent, and every day, she made sure that I got a special meal prepared just for me. As soon as she noticed me, she flashed her sunshine-like smile at me. I blinked at her. She smiled even more. Then she started talking, but she was concentrating on dicing something on the cutting board.

“You’re getting bigger, I see.” She paused, sighed, and kept looking at the cutting board. Her smile was fading. “I wish we didn’t have to move.”

“Move?” I asked.

“I wish we could stay here forever. I like this house. I like our lives. I like how things turned out for us.”

“Then, why move? Is that why all the furniture—”

“But we would have moved eventually. It’s a better country. We’ll have better lives. We’ll have more opportunities.”

We’re going abroad?

“Well,” she exhaled deeply, “we’ll be okay; we always have been.”

I turned and slowly walked into my room. The sun was brighter than ever. I hid behind the curtain and draped myself with its silky touch. “So, soon I’m going to miss this view? The tropical sun and the birds’ chirping? The crows on coconut trees?”

“Are you okay?” My mom came to my room and closed the door behind her. “Look at your room. It’s beautiful. You’ve kept it clean.”

“Thanks, Mom, I try,” I said and touched her arm. I needed to hug her, but she was about to say something.

“You’re so innocent. I’ve never regretted adopting you. I hope you never felt that you were an outsider.”

“No—” She cut me off again. One thing I despised about being with them was that I felt as if they never listened. They acted as if I were invisible. I felt so small, like I had no say in anything.

She then tightly smoothed my skin to the point that my eyes felt like they were about to pop.

Eavesdropping is bad. I know. But how else can I get more information on what’s going on in this house? Nobody ever tells me anything. So, today I intentionally snuck past my parents and hid behind the door.

“I posted it a week ago. Why didn’t anyone respond?” Mom was aimlessly walking.

“Two people responded. Don’t worry, someone will call.” Dad said calmly.

“Well, they showed promise, but then they never called again. I don’t know if we can find someone in time. What are we gonna do?”

“Be patient.” Dad hugged Mom and kissed her forehead.

They have another problem.

Parents keep so much stuff to themselves. They don’t share anything with their children, do they? Or, is it because I was adopted? If I were their own, would they be disclosing more?

All of a sudden, Mom’s phone started ringing. I almost jumped out of where I was hiding. I never got used to sudden loud noises. I should train myself to be calmer.

Close one.

“Hello! Yeah. Ah ha, oh my god! Are you serious?” Mom covered her mouth, and tears rolled down her cheeks. “Do you realize how much this means to me? I can’t believe this. Thank you! Thanks so much!”

“What? Who was it?” Dad questioned.

“It was Pam! She wants to take her!”

Take her? Take who?

“Seriously? Did she see your post?”

“Yes! They did.”

“Oh, my god. You don’t know how relieved I am. Now, we know that she’s not going to be living with some stranger.”

I did not understand what was happening. The only thing I gathered was that it was another item that my parents wanted to sell. They’ve been posting about many items in the past weeks, and this must have been one of them. I recall that my mom calls her inanimate objects “her” or “him”. Maybe she’s calling it “she” because she loves it and it means so much to her. Is it her ukulele? Oh my god, it’s her ukulele! She calls it “her”! But why would she sell it? We can bring it anywhere with us.

My mom has been so sad because she has always loved this home. But why would she be this unhappy even with us around? I always thought my home was wherever my family was. Isn’t it the same for her? Leaving your home country for another land is always difficult; I can understand that much. I am no longer a kid.

But we are all going to be together.

A week passed monotonously. However, the usual routine never bothered me. I loved having my meals, getting pampered, and above all, I was feeling my mom’s love more than ever. In the evening, I had a relaxing nap, and when I woke up, I saw a slight difference in my room. Some of my toys were gone. Even my favorite. I started focusing on the surroundings, and my mom walked in.

“Oh, you’re up. It’s almost time. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“We’re going to see my friend. She’s so nice. You’ll see.”

“Okay…” I kept silent. It’s not like I have a choice. Nobody listens to me.

When I walked near the car, I saw that my toys were inside it. Whenever we went outside, I always wanted my favorite toy beside me, but I never wanted this many.

“Go on, baby. Get in.” My mom touched my face and gently patted my head.

I had so many questions brewing in my head the whole ride, but then again, no one ever responded to me. I am invisible to them. It’s not like I am treated badly or something, but as I said, I feel so small, insignificant.

The car stopped at a beautiful home, and my mom’s friend came and greeted us with open arms. She had the most affectionate eyes and a maternal smile. “Oh, you’re so beautiful!”

I blinked. “Thanks,” I said, feeling a little shy, but compliments were never a bad thing.

“Let’s go inside.” She escorted us all inside.

When I stepped in, I saw that this house was pretty cramped. It was nothing like our house. Ours is spacious, and I could play however I wanted. But I couldn’t help but notice that everyone who lived there seemed loving and caring.

We stayed there for like an hour and had some snacks. I watched my mom giving her friend some notebooks and instructing her on some specific things that I couldn’t wrap my head around.

“We’d better get going. I still have so much to do.” Dad spoke with a smile. Mom looked at him and sighed. I could see that they came to see her friend because we were going abroad, so she could say goodbye to her. I empathized with her. It isn’t easy to leave people you love behind.

My mom and dad kissed me and hugged me tightly, and my mom started crying her eyes out.

“Oh, don’t cry, Mom.” I tried consoling her. But nothing worked.

“Tsk-tsk,” Granny, my mom’s friend’s mom, made a sound with her mouth. No one responded, but I was watching her intently.

“Tsk-tsk!” she made the same noise again.

“Auntie, please don’t do that. Call her by her name. I don’t want her to forget her name.” Mom said with slight irritation in her tone.

“What did you say her name was?” Granny asked.

“Marble, call her Marble,” Mom replied through her tears.

Then, my parents walked out of the house, got into the car, and left. I was paralyzed. I was still in that stranger’s house. But I couldn’t even move because Pam was holding me. I screamed and shouted.

“Mom! Mom! Don’t leave me!”

The gate was shut behind them, and the vehicle disappeared. I cried, cried, and cried. I couldn’t believe my eyes. How could they do this to me? They left me. “She” was me.

“Please!”

Pam was holding me tightly so I couldn’t run after my parents. Then Granny shut the front door. I heard Pam’s words the whole time, but I blocked most of them out. I couldn’t breathe. I no longer had the will to scream. I was invisible.

Then Pam said, “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll take care of you. Just the way your mom did. Okay? Now, Marble, be a good cat and eat your food.”

“Meow!”