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It all began when Vel, who was wheelchair-bound, remembered the old apartment she and I used to live in as faux rich assholes. “Ven, please… go back to our old apartment!”
Day after day, her pleas had never ceased, until I decided to tell her to cut to the chase.
“Vel, get straight to the point. What do you want from me revisiting there?”
That was when she caused me to raise an eyebrow about something she had never revealed to me previously, not even when we were reckless teenagers. “Neither of us were able to retrieve anything when we got arrested. I know instinctively that there’s something or lots of things I had buried underneath the floorings! And I really need them back!”
I remained skeptical. “But Sis, most of our possessions had been repoed for paying our tax debts-”
However, in a rare instance, our eldest brother took my (rather sickly) older twin sister’s stance. “Venny, perhaps give Vellie the benefit of the doubt. I doubt our sister is lying this time.”
And to be fair, Vel’s request wasn’t too demanding like her previous ones from our teenage years were. “...Look, just please, Veneer. I really want to use the thing I hope to regain, in order to teach my son and daughter something that I used to be able to do in my healthier youthful days. It’s not a huge favor, even though I’ve emotionally owed you everything, which I’m truly sorry for…”
I was also curious to know whatever secrets she had been concealing in the repoed apartment for a long time, so ultimately the choice to quit was nonexistent in the first place.
I turned to my oldest brother, who was tending to my paraplegic sister’s needs, as I caved into her request.
“...Fine. Marv, you have the spare key for that apartment, which you had managed to acquire?”
Marv grinned the toothiest smile at the question of me desiring his very regal help, and playfully tossed a spare PIN into my surprised hands’ catch. “Cerise and I manage 80-98% of our country’s finances and housing. I got this in the bag, Lil Bro. Here ya go!”
****************
“Venny, babe. Call me when you’ve gotten something heavy, so after your collection is complete I can get up and deliver the heavier components to the motorcycle’s additional pulling compartment.” Gloss dialed me for a call of reassurance after Floyd and I had entered the building. “I’ll be waiting for you outside!”
“Love ya too, honey.” I gave my husband an air kiss over the phone, before Floyd and I resumed scanning the long aisle on the floor we were sure we were in the right place of. From beginning to the seemingly endless end of the corridors, I had been gripping onto the spare card Marv had given to me, my eyes never leaving their attention from each flat’s etched number.
Apparently, the only ones traversing the mostly vacant corridors of this very long aisle are Floyd - who is on my head - and myself. The only items we have equipped ourselves with are some cleaning tools (bleach, gloves, you know the gist), a large basket that I’m sledging with both arms, and some snacks stored in my waist bag (that we can eat in case we’re hungry).
I’m not too worried about Velvet at the moment. She’s being accompanied with FJ and Sparkles on her lap (from what Floyd and I could determine before setting foot into the building’s lift), and Marv and Cerise are keeping a close eye on her - perhaps both my brother and sister-in-law are currently entertaining her as much as FJ and Sparkles do.
“Veneer… Are you certain that your former apartment is still intact? I am still considering the possibility that it’s been sold and the rest of the left behind possessions have been discarded into the trash…” Floyd is a bit skeptical about the apartment’s state.
“Don’t worry, dude. Fun fact that’s also not so fun in the housing sector? Most Mount Rageons detest purchasing properties attaining to infamous figures, which includes me, and they won’t clear off anything - as long as those stuff are deemed NOT valuable unlike most clothing and furniture - to prevent themselves from attracting bad luck by implicitly being associated with a fraud. Also, Marv and Cerise’s previous investigation at me and Vel’s abandoned residence has deduced that most of the leftover stuff there cost very little monetary value unless we are scrounging them for sale under anonymity.” I shrug casually, and Floyd seems to buy this explanation as he ponders thoughtfully while looking up at the ceiling.
“Hm yeah, by selling those items you can find and no longer need at that flat… we can definitely help gather up some funds for your kids’ education in the future, or pay off the medical bills.”
“Yeahhh… Dr. Nia said she had done her best with using some of the endorsement she had to pay off part of Vel’s treatment bills, but the rest are up to me and my extended family…” I can only draw a sigh longer than the longest river I once read from a geography book. (Curse the racking-up medical bills…)
Too bad my miniscule friend and I aren’t the only ones around. Apparently the janitor, who is still wearing those gaudy headphones since the last moment I saw him years ago, has the spunk to laugh at us (or more specifically, me) boisterously while being stuck in his dead-end job. “Why don’t you just go back to prison, ya fraudster? I’m sure the guards miss having you there already!”
“You won’t be laughing if you’re the one who's been in the slammers. Then you’re going to realize being missed by the guards ain’t an honor.” I nonchalantly comment while Floyd and I pass by them. That’s enough to deliver a shudder down their spine and make them resume their work in silence.
****************
Eventually, my restless blue eyes - which have been behaving more listless than a hare fearing for their own skin in the wild - realize the moment for them to quit darting around has arrived, when Floyd has to pull a strand of hair to catch my attention. The subject matter is one single three-digit room number etched onto an embedded tag on that smooth, almost unblemished wall.
“Ven, look. Is this Room [XoX]? It’s been a while since we were last in it.”
The very same three digits that signifies a bygone past of fame and debauchery Vel and I once indulged in.
The fact that she had hidden something so important yet probably not fame related is something that bemuses my logical mindset to no end. Of course everything she was forced to leave behind that has the least possibility to get sold would be none other than her exorbitant perfume bottles and dried up lipsticks, nothing else.
“Yup, that’s it. Here goes nothing with re-traumatizing ourselves, I suppose.” I swipe the PIN card at the apartment door’s swipe bar. (Damn, is everything security related all about PIN swiping nowadays for all those automatic doors? I’m really getting old.)
The automated door slides itself wide open to disclose a… war zone aftermath of bottles, boxes, shelves, and closets all being sprung into disarray, akin to soldiers’ corpses from those historical war films. Much of the messy room has already been emptied of its furniture from couch to beds, and not even Vel’s favorite dressing table got exempted from the fate of being sold. Even wigs and apparels have all vanished within the period this place has been abandoned and unable to be rented or sold.
True to the predictions that Floyd and I guessed beforehand, there are only those scattered less-than-valuable belongings of ruined accessories, broken hangers, dried up cosmetics, if only for me to name a few.
“Vel must’ve been making a fuss… none of these that are ditched by sellers who had trespassed and stolen things for sale have any sentimental value for us to retrieve for her!” I kneel to inspect the damage, while starting to also mask myself and whisk out my cleaning supplies. “They are only for us to resell after we provide a massive clean up for this hellhole.”
“Don’t jump to premature conclusions. I think your sister isn’t lying to you nowadays. Her tone sounded very imploring from the sounds of it.” Floyd plays devil’s advocate - as much as I disagree with him here, I still feel I can trust his judgement, before remarking, “I can help you pry up some of the floorboards and walls. Many people discreetly store their most valuable belongings in those places, because most of your kin don’t bother checking those nooks and crannies from the looks of it.”
“How do you know?” I raise an eyebrow while spraying some corners with vinegar and lemon juice to get rid of the smoothie stains (that Vel and I might’ve left behind a long time ago).
“That was how John and later Branch sneaked into this apartment through the pipes and ventilation system, you silly pal.” He smirks to check out my shocked face.
“Ohhhhh. Riiiiight.” I chuckle out a rather nervous laugh, and believe it’s best to not embarrass myself further by immersing myself fully into the cleaning and scouring. Apparently John’s brag about having memorized this apartment’s ventilation system truly isn’t just a bluff…
****************
One hour has passed. And there aren’t any productive results during this scavenger hunt.
Another perfume bottle is added to the pile. Another fractured utensil is on the list for disposal. Another stray straw needing to be sent to the dumpster.
The only good things Floyd and I have found so far are those large portraits Velvet used to hang on the walls. So obvious. Most buyers won’t want to purchase a splitting image of an egotistical fraudster on their walls, anyway.
“Fuuuck. Another tube of evaporated skincare product… Jeez, how much had Vel coerced me to buy back then?” I end up having to add a tube of wasted aloe vera facial gel into the junk pile.
“Don’t tell me about how many snapped hair curlers you’ve uncovered.” Floyd agrees, having found a broken hair curler that almost clipped his hair tip.
“I was such a shameless shopaholic, what the actual fuck-” Just when I’m about to toss one more sac of dehydrated facial skincare pack into the junk heap, my foot is met with an unusually mismatched floorboard beneath me, and I feel that my balance has been thrown off. “WAHHHHHHHKKKK!!!”
“Veneer!!” Fortunately, Floyd is nimble enough to lasso me back into a straight pole. I can’t help but continually sweat the fuck out of myself as if I had just been drenched in a downpour, despite being indoors. Such a narrow save thanks to my good old friend…
Until the flaked-up floorboard comes off during Floyd’s close call of saving me, unearthing a dusty box that we’ve never seen before that’s marred with dirt and some minor stains.
“Wow, now that’s a new continent that you didn’t consider.” Floyd expresses his surprise - he has essentially read my mind. “Though in all honesty, I wouldn’t have thought of a box being found beneath our feet. Thank god no one has found it and then dumped it.”
Cautiously, both Floyd and I heave up the box (me via my hands, Floyd via his prehensile hair) from its dirty ass bedding, and take away the lid to figure out what kind of treasure chest it is. What we come face to face as its contents has indeed caught us by surprise.
Inside this rather old box is a magenta covered photo album with Vel’s distinctive cursive signature, and another gaudily made pink covered notebook labelled ‘Velvet™ skincare guide’ overloading with notes and memos spilling out from its seams.
Abruptly, what Vel alluded to as ‘being able to teach FJ and Sparkles things from her healthier days’ all makes sense now. No doubt that these treasures are what my sister had been yearning to retrieve the entire time.
“Now I also remember. Your sister used to be so fussy with getting her skin all preened and pampered! Heh, as much as the bottle thrown from her hurt a lot for me, she was hilarious whenever she panicked over a black head mask backfiring on her delicate skin.” Floyd tries to ease the increasingly suffocating atmosphere with a joke on the plight my sister and I once put him in. He’s such a persistent optimist, which is why I always admire him.
“Yeah… it was funny. Such a drama queen she was…” I reply, some wistfulness teeming while I use a duster brush to get rid of most of the skincare guide’s dustiness. Then I start examining the tattered pages. It’s surprisingly intact despite the photos and ink words being dimmed by age.
‘How NOT to use a black head mask: not adding some lotion or additional layers of similar properties before the pasting.’ This tagline has gotten a chuckle out of us dudes. So specific of her to highlight such a trivial incident…
Subsequently, I take out the equally spotty photo album. Again after another round of dust-brushing, I flip open its pages to examine. And it doesn’t fail to surprise me either… with how my heart is suddenly squirming more than sugar melting and caramelizing in a heated pot.
“Selfies… between me and her…? How come she’s been obscuring these from me?” I feel that my breaths have shortened in frequency, with how I’m recovering from the sheer shock of realizing that Vel had been collecting selfies that she and I had either photographed together, or some that were taken without my knowledge as some sort of surprise for me.
There is one selfie about her teasing my sleeping pose being so widespread more than melted butter on toast. Another one is me sleeping on the (now gone) couch with cucumber patches and a facial mask.
To be fair, when she wasn’t being power mad or abusive, she was sorta fun for me to be with…
But the last one on the last page is the one that is making my tear glands commence an overdrive. My tears are doubtlessly welling up and ready to blast through the dams now. It was presumably taken by Vel in our shoulder pads and ridiculous hairdos, before she and I decided to take off to the Rage Dome.
Goddammit Vel. Why do you have to be so two-faced and dishonest with me and even YOURSELF for decades…?
“For someone who once treated you like trash… she really just wants to be with you at the end of the day.” Floyd sighs, probably getting sentimental like I am right now. He must’ve noticed that my waterworks are constantly needing to be rubbed away by my frantic hands as substitute hand towels…
“I know right…? Maybe that’s why my deadbeat assholes of two parents had the gall to name her after the ‘velvet etch’ dental technique to seal her fate…” Gosh, I despise the two dentist assholes that birthed and soon abandoned me and my two older siblings… Had they not been unapologetic assholes under the guise of indifference, me and my siblings would have escaped from their toxic influence much sooner and gotten the chance to be a complete family…
And then FJ and Sparkles wouldn’t have to be losing their mom soon…
“They certainly have no remorse telling her to never be able to be a happy person through and through… even if she has someone with her. Someone as loyal as you.” Floyd bounces himself onto my shoulder to gently pat my neck.
I nod. I surely am at a loss of words and just grateful that Floyd has spoken on behalf of myself, as I am only sitting there choking on my own tears.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
This compartment used to house two lonely souls who were codependent with each other in order to survive the man-eat-man world called Mount Rageous.
Now that his companion is about to move on one day, the lone heartbeat resounds even louder than it used to be, enough to override the crisp sound of a pin drop.
And that lonely heart’s heartbeat… is none other than myself.
Floyd then again succeeds in confirming how I feel and letting me have a way out of this shitty place that only reeks of painful floods of memories. “Let’s get the badly damaged junk into the two different types of bins, get the usable junk sold, and just get outta this lost paradise with the paintings and portraits and… these irreplaceable treasures of yours. Shall we?”
I nod once again, while still grasping onto the two old booklets Vel will get to see as to grant her wish. My reddened cheeks are wetted by the waterworks already.
“The honor is all yours, my friend.”
****************
“Babe. You okay? Your eyes look…?” Gloss wipes off his sweat drops with one arm after assisting Floyd and I with carrying those humongous portraits plastered with Vel’s younger faces to his motorbike’s pulling compartment (I wonder if it should be called a sledge?), while actually noticing that my eyes definitely look and feel different.
“Red? Yeah. The treasures tugged my heartstrings too much, in a good way.” I muster up the most forced smile that my perceptive husband can conspicuously see through. It’s no doubt faker than dental veneers being forcibly applied for my shabby teeth (by me and my older siblings’ crummy, so-called parents who’ve already disowned the three of us) anyway.
“So… the box is the treasure Vel has been dying to get back? Like, is it even true that it was covered up by a single floorboard and nobody who had taken most of the items found out about it?!” My husband believes that it’s best to seek confirmation from me and our friend once more. It’s frankly justified for anybody, including him, to be in extreme disbelief that Vel has a soft spot for most people…
“Yeah. Is it okay if I… approach her now? I want to tell her that the mission has been accomplished, and she no longer has to be burdened by the thought of not being able to pass down whatever limited knowledge she has to both kiddos…” My throat is choking again. Darn it… Everything I have to rectify for Vel just has to ache me endlessly… Why does being her younger twin brother never stop hurting?
“That’s okay. You’re her younger twin brother, so Floyd and I won’t want to disturb your moment with her. Go ahead.” My husband is always very encouraging, thankfully.
And Floyd reinforces my spouse’s support as he hops from my shoulders to his, while winking at me at approval.
Looks like facing pain isn’t that bad when you have your guys to back you up…
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The road to hell is often paved with good intentions. Right now, it feels like I’m venturing into the hell of getting emotionally devastated into a pool of nothingness, because of how much love that’s gonna explode out of my damaged chest in particular if she finally reaches her passing.
“...And your Daddy V was like, ‘I told ya, silly sis!’ after that black head applier mask on my nose probably tore some of my skin off! Gotta thank him for his sass of reminding me not to repeat that mistake, not gonna lie!” Velvet is entertaining FJ and Sparkles who are laughing their heads on her lap, while Marvel is equivalently amused - seems like she never told him before until earlier. I’m so glad that my brother and I get to allow both FJ and Sparkles to have some functional, healthy relationship moments with their mama, even if the tenure is gonna be so short…
My sister’s glimmering eyes proceed to shift her concentration onto the box - now free of grime and dirt - in my very firm, yet also shaky, palms that are eager to deliver her this surprise gift. And her blue eyes have then shone brighter than a diamond’s brilliance. Followed by Marv’s gasp, and FJ & Sparkles’ awestruck wowing.
“Ven… you actually found it!” Not offering me any reaction time, just after I have kneeled slightly next to her wheelchair… Velvet yanks me forcefully yet affectionately so, so close to her. Indeed more than a bear’s bear hug just to embrace me as if there’s not gonna be any tomorrow for us to live for in an apocalypse movie’s dystopian setting.
“...Are these the skincare routines and our moments you want to-” And she doesn’t need me to finish my sentence either.
“Yes, you stupid, clumsy klutz… You don’t have to ask for my validation like before… I’m terribly sorry that I’ve broken your heart, and being such an absent, incompetent mom myself… All I want to say is ‘thank you’, and that’s it…”
It’s not just my waterworks releasing my deeply buried sentiments of love and pain for myself and her.
Judging by how my shirt’s sleeves and collars are also feeling soaky - even though today’s not gonna rain until much later, I can correctly predict that she’s crying too.
We’re both crying, for the days that we have once shared then lost. For our youth that is marred and mixed with happiness, regrets and former rage at and with each other. For what we could’ve had similarly with FJ and Sparkles.
We don’t deserve to have a shitty relationship. FJ and Sparkles don’t deserve to have their happiness cut short either.
But all we can remind ourselves is, even with just old, tattered books that are the very few things she had made by herself, and once buried deep within her vulnerable heart…
Vel still has something she can leave behind for the two children she and I both cherish the most…