Chapter 3 – Remnants of the Unfulfilled

Thursday, 14 July 1999

Eva sat alone on a bench outside the hospital under the torrential rainstorm, sniveling and hiccoughing uncontrollably, numb from the cold. The rest of her family is inside, weeping and grieving for Mr. Frederick Rosalene, her father.

It happened so suddenly; one minute, they were enjoying lamb chops and a vegetable side dish, the next thing they know, mum was at the wheel, exceeding the speed limit, her seatbelt unbuckled, her youthful face creased with panic and trepidation; Eva restlessly ensconced on the passenger's side, phoning everyone on speed dial; her dad prostrate in the backseat with his mouth agape, his glasses askew, his eyes bulging, every muscle in his body rigid, his breathing shallow and his heart barely functioning.

He was immediately brought to the ICU and there was nothing much they could but wait anxiously and pray with all their hearts behind the closed hospital doors. Eva caught a glimpse of her father get careened away on the gurney: whey-faced, frail, an oxygen mask covering his breathless mouth and nose. She implored and beseeched and entreated with God so that her father would weather the storm and survive.

She was her mother contending with the doctor and nurses to let her in and be with her husband. Eva need not ask why; she knew her mother was going to perform the wish-granting fulfillment on him.

But alas, the doctors prohibited her from seeing him until the surgery was complete and they left her racking in irrepressible sobs in the corner, her face buried in her hands.

The rest of the family arrived later, their faces red and senseless from the heavy rain, their eyes bloodshot. Aunt Annabelle, Mr. Rosalene's younger sister, came bursting through, her petite frame trembling violently. When she saw Eva's mum, she was inconsolable. Nobody blamed her. Uncle Martin and his children—Eva's cousins—Maria and Mikey sported deadpan expressions.

Then Mr. Rosalene's co-workers came rushing in, looking like they've just come out of the swimming pool, their eyes also distended from crying.

The only ones who weren't there were Neil and his parents.

Waiting for the doctor to come out with news was the longest half an hour in Eva's entire life (and everyone else's for that matter), that by the time the sound of shuffling footsteps were heard, everyone leapt out from their seats and dried their eyes with their hearts in the throats.

"D-Doctor," Mrs. Rosalene rasped. "H-How—M-My husband?"

The doctor shook his head forlornly. "I'm sorry, we tried out best," he whispered, agony in his voice. And Eva's world came crumbling down.

The Watts came bustling in, huffing and puffing and bitterly cold, just like everyone else. Normally, the sight of Neil permeated in rainwater would be hilarious, but after hearing the news, Eva couldn't even look at him.

"Oh God," Mrs. Watts panted. "We're so sorry, traffic held us back. Is it—How is he, doctor? Did he make it? Please tell me he made it!"

But the grim look on his face says it all, and Mrs. Watts backed away, stumbling in her step.

"Oh Lord . . ." she gasped. "

Eva ran out of the hospital, unable to take the sorrow anymore. Tears cascaded out of her eyes and her heart raced painfully. She didn't see where she was going. She kept bumping into people. She just needed to get out.

"Eva! Wait!" Neil shouted behind her, but his words fell to deaf ears. The heavy beat of raindrops had never felt so relieving and suffocating to Eva before. It was heavenly, yet it was not able to wash away the heartache and distress. It was more than she could handle.

Eva weakly sat down and the bench, her legs dangling limply from the edge, and howled in anguish. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped but she went on howling and yowling and shrieking at the top of her lungs. Anything. Anything to rid herself of this pain.

Images of her father flooded her disconsolate mind. Pictures of when she was five, picking apples from the orchard. She sat on his broad shoulders, laughing and clapping at the same time she struggled to pick a Granny Smith. Visions of her seventh birthday. The day she got her first Barbie, even though her mother was quite upset, as she was against it in the first place (she said it creates unnecessary sky-high expectations for young girls).

Blurry, fuzzy snapshots of Mr. Rosalene surged on and on; his warm smile, his orotund, belly laughter, his horn-rimmed glasses, his favorite blue spotted tie that looked fairly ridiculous in the women's eyes. It was too much. Eva hugged her knees to her chest and buried her face. Her tears are burning but frigid. Her heart palpitated, recalcitrant to her brain's commands to calm down.

But she can't calm down. She just couldn't!

Her wails grew louder and the rain poured harder than ever, stinging and burning and biting at her skin.

"Eva . . ." a soft voice said, barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid he was going to hurt her if he raised it any more.

An angel, perhaps? Had he come to take away her father? Eva looked up from under her eyelids; she half expected to see a radiating glow, but her other half wanted to scream at his face to bring his father back.

But all she saw was a pair of scruffy tennis shoes and two skinny legs.

Eva looked up, her lower lip quivering. "N-N-Neil?"

"Hey . . ." he said, still in the same voice, and took a seat quite apart from Eva and set aside the black umbrella he was holding. "I'm so sorry . . ."

"D-Don't . . ." Eva croaked. "You're just g-gonna . . ."

She broke down again, clutching Neil's shirt in her fists, her loud sobs racking her tiny frame. She felt a secure hand on her back and Neil pulled her into a hug, which made her cry louder.

"Why did he have to go, Neil?" Eva moaned in anguish. "Why did God have to take him away so soon?! Why?!"

"I-I don't know, Eva," Neil said, stroking her hair consolingly. "I'm so sorry. I guess there are some things that aren't meant to be known."

Eva ululated on, with Neil by her said, holding her, safe and sound.

But it just didn't feel the same.

"W-What'll b-become of m-my life, N-Neil? Dad's g-gone! M-Mum w-will have to go l-look for work now, a-and we c-can't pay our d-debts a-any-anymore. I-I think w-we're g-going t-to have t-to move ou-out and s-sell e-e-everything."

"Hey, don't say that," Neil comforted, his voice sterner now. "You don't know what's going to happen tomorrow or for the rest of our lives, for that matter. Don't just directly assume that this is how your life's going to be like just because something takes a turn for the worse. Have a little faith, and after all . . ." Neil looked up, a small, kind smile on his lips. "You've got me. I'll always be here for you, no matter what. I promise I won't go dying young on you." He raised his pinky. "Pinky swear."

Eva couldn't help but return that altruistic smile with one of her own and held up her own little finger and linked it with his. "Pinky swear."

"Great," Neil said with a huge grin and pushed away Eva's damp hair so that it doesn't cover her face. "Now let's go back; your mum's waiting. And we're probably going to have to explain why our clothes are so . . . wet."