Read an Excerpt
Madisin
By MION NG
Trafford Publishing
Copyright © 2012 Mion Ng
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4669-3045-2
Chapter One
Joni
As a young girl growing up in a small logging town, there wasn't really much one did to pass time. Aspee was a nondescript community that sat divided on a couple of old railway tracks which carried the freight trains twice a day between Lostar in the north and Berwoth, located at the edge of River Tyne. Berwoth, at the time, was being developed as a fishing port, connecting the strait between the north of the country to the capital, Cayelle. Aspee, being at the periphery of the logging activities, simply thrived.
By all account, Aspee was a small town. A single main street, which was parallel to the railway tracks, ran the length of the town. Gram and I lived in one of the shophouses along the street. The town's police station stood guard at one end and the local supermarket at the opposing end. A bakery, a car repairs shop, a haberdashery, a bank, and other daily convenient type-stores made up the balance. Residential streets ran perpendicular to the main street, and each evening, the town would come alive as people gathered outside to catch up with neighbours or to simply gossip. During the day, Aspee maintained a peaceful presence, the main income-generating activity located slightly on the outskirt of town where logging took place. Pretty much every one of my friends' dads worked at the sawmill.
After school each day, Caycee, my best friend, and I would race each other down to the railway tracks. The school was located on the other side of the tracks where we both lived. The afternoon freight train, timed at 3.20 p.m., would pass the little crossing carelessly gated by a wooden frame, its hinges long separated from the metal bar. The school bell rang at quarter past three. We usually had a five-minute window to make the two-hundred-metre dash to the wooden gate and safely cross the tracks before the freight train barreled its way to Berwoth. I won most of the time.
Barging through the back door of our shophouse, Gram would always be there, both hands perched on her ample hips.
"Oh! Just look at you! That's not how I raise you, young lady," she grumbled while wiping the sweaty grime of my face with a wet cloth. "Why is it that you won't take the school bus like all the other kids." It wasn't so much a question, more a statement of fact.
"But I am not normal, Gram. You said I am special, and God gave me to you to look after," I chirped back and hugged her close to me. Gram always smelled of flour and tangy spices, and as I breathed the goodness of her in, I always held on just a little bit tighter and wished I never had to let her go.
"That you are but not until you get yourself properly cleaned up." She would cluck away at me like a mother hen from the kitchen but not before she hugged me and quietly affirmed, "You are indeed special."
"I love you, Gram."
That was our routine. Although Gram continued to pay for the school bus throughout my years at primary school, I rode it home. I hated being boxed in with the rest of the kids, screaming and shouting. I'd much rather enjoy the freedom of racing down the hill and beating the freight train to the tracks. Caycee followed but not because she craved the freedom as I did but out of sheer loyalty to me for being her best friend our entire life.
Things changed the summer we turned thirteen. For my birthday the previous month, Gram bought me a shiny new red bicycle with a bell that went ding-ding-ding each time I wanted people to move out of my way. It was the most melodious sound ever, the sound of freedom as I could now ride to and from school. Caycee took the school bus home, and I would race right alongside while repeatedly clicking ding-ding-ding on the bell as the bus and I sped down the hill. I think she was secretly pleased to be inside the cocoon of the air-conditioned bus. Running wasn't really an option anymore, and although we didn't want to admit it, our adolescent breasts were beginning to feel sore and uncomfortable as they rubbed against the school pinafore. So while Caycee shouted and waved to me inside the confine and comfort of the bus, I'd chased alongside in my swanky new red bicycle. The brown earth would churn around the wheels of the bus before splashing on my face and my school pinafore, but I didn't give a damn. I was free.
The first time I got home from school on the bicycle, I had never seen Gram look more livid.
"Joni Satch, just look at you! Don't you dare step into the house until you have hosed yourself down outside!" She waved the baking spatula frantically at me, and with all her four feet eleven inches, she pushed me and the red bicycle (which by then had turned into the colour of brown rust) outside the house and into the backyard.
"No ... No ... Gram ... No!" The next thing I felt was a jet of icy cold water, stunning me back to reality. I stood there as the brown water dripped down and puddled around my white sneakered feet. Then I laughed.
"Don't you come near me!" Gram shrieked as I grabbed the hose and began to chase her around the backyard. Soon we were both drenched wet. I did only what I had always done after school each day, I pulled Gram in and gave her a big tight hug.
"I still love you, Gram."
"What am I going to do with you, Joni Satch?" Gram sighed.
It wasn't always just Gram and me. My granddad, whom I'd not met, died before I was even born. I am not sure what I would've called him if he was still alive. Perhaps Pop. That's what Caycee called her granddad. So it would have been Gram and Pop. I liked the sound of that. Gram carried a picture of Pop inside the pocket of her apron every day. I had seen her take the picture out, now and then, and smiled at it wistfully. I never mentioned it to her. Something should just remain private between her and Pop.
I didn't know much about my parents either. I used to ask Gram about them, but she would only get teary eyed and waved me away. This much I did know: my mother was Gram's and Pop's only child, and she died six months after I was born. My father left me in Gram's care a few months after. He left a note on the kitchen table one morning, and that's the last time Gram ever heard from him. The only picture I have of my parents was on their wedding day. Gram said it was only right that I kept it.
Caycee came from a big family. She was the youngest of five children. Her dad said she was a welcome "mistake". Her older siblings were all boys, and by the time she came along, there was a good eight years separating Caycee and her fourth brother, Matt. In fact, Caycee was born in the same year as her eldest niece, Sue-Ellen. Tasha and Mark (Caycee's oldest brother) were expecting their firstborn when Caycee's parents welcomed their last child and only daughter into the family. Caycee's mum had always wanted a princess and in one year she had two—a daughter and a granddaughter.
Caycee's parents might have wanted a princess, but her behaviour mirrored that of her brothers. Unfortunately, she also had me as her best friend. Gram and Aunty Nunn (that's Caycee's mum) used to despair together. As young girls, we disdained dolls, preferring trees and being covered in mud. Aside from the school pinafore, Caycee and I seldom wore dresses. Perhaps if Caycee didn't have her brothers or me in her life, she would have turned out like a princess. That wasn't the case with me. I was born spirited and carefree, needing to see how high I could climb and how far I could run. I was always curious about being on the other side. In our friendship, I led. Caycee was the faithful friend and follower.
There is a saying that "all good things must come to an end". Nothing could be truer. Aspee continued to boom and thrive as logging activities intensified throughout my high school years. The brown dirt road which connected the school and our homes was replaced by asphalt. Soon the school bus sped down the hill faster than my legs could pedal on the bicycle. New shops opened on either side of the railway tracks. The broken wooden gate was replaced with a shiny stainless steel bar and traffic lights got installed. We now had to wait until the light turned green before we could cross over. More cars came through our once small town and new homes and families sprouted overnight. The idyllic chaos was no more.
If I had been allowed to just float along the current of change, no matter how fast it went my life would have turned out differently. But no river is ever straight, and at some point, there lies sharp exposed rocks that cause one to change direction for hope of land and safety. I came across two such exposed rocks just at the fork of the river, and I had a split second decision to decide whether to veer left or swing to the right.
Gram died, and Lewis came to town.
Chapter Two
Caycee
"How are you feeling?" I squeezed Joni's hand as she turned her mournful eyes towards me.
My entire life's experience of eighteen years had been spent with Joni. We were seldom apart except when we had to go to sleep, but even then there were frequent sleepovers. There was the one time when we were both caught smoking our first cigarette behind the hockey field. Until today, we do not have a clue how Joni's grandmother found us, with Mama just right behind. We had turned sixteen that year, and Joni said it was time we grew up and started behaving like adults. Smoking was to be our first foray into the realm of adulthood. We were grounded for a week and forbidden to see one another. That wouldn't have been so bad if school hadn't closed for the summer break. I felt like my right arm had been severed; it was that painful not seeing Joni for the entire week.
"I'm okay." Her reply was such a soft whisper. Then she grabbed me tight, and I felt her shoulders heaved and wracked with sobs. This was more like it—this was the Joni I knew. She had never been the quiet type, every action of hers was expressive. Joni didn't know how to giggle; she bellowed out her laughter.
"Sorry, I guess I needed that."
"Don't be sorry, hon. It's okay to miss her, you know. I miss her too." I wiped the tears still streaking down Joni's cheeks.
"Gram was the only family I ever knew, Caycee."
At that comment, I turned her face so that her big brown eyes were leveled to mine. "No. Joni, that's where you have gotten it wrong. My family is yours too. Mark, Mick, Mo, and Matt, they are your brothers as much as mine. Frankly speaking, they have always treated you like their kid sister. And I know Mama and Pa love you as much as one of their own. You are better than any blood sister I could have asked for. You are my sister, my best friend. Do you understand?" I said with as much vehemence as I felt.
"Thanks, I know. I am sorry I even said that."
I gave Joni's hand another squeeze. "C'mon then, let's see what the rest of the family are up to, eh?" With that, I pulled Joni to her feet, just as Mama called out, "Dinner girls!"
It had been three months since Joni's Gram died in her sleep. She was just shy of her seventieth birthday. Joni had nearly yanked our front door from its hinges as she pounded and shouted for help. Mama and Pa had hurried over, and by the time the ambulance arrived, Joni was hysterical and had to be given sedatives to calm her down. Ever since then, a light had gone out from her eyes. She hadn't laughed in months, and when she smiled, it was almost as if she did it out of obligation and not because she wanted to. Mama said it was Joni's way of dealing with her grief. I desperately wanted the old Joni back.
Joni's grandmother left everything to Joni, which included the shophouse and every last cent of Gram's life savings. She even had the will done up by some fancy law firm in Cayelle. The lawyer drove up to Aspee to deliver Gram's final will to Joni. The lawyer, aside from acting as Joni's grandmother's legal counsel, had also been requested to assist in the administration of the will. Joni was to receive a monthly allowance until she turned twenty-one. Thereafter, she would be provided with a yearly sum to do as she pleased. Once she is thirty, the legal firm would relinquish the administration of her grandmother's will and the remaining balance of Joni's inheritance would be handed to her.
There was one specific instruction that Joni had to abide by in order to receive her inheritance. Her grandmother had written to St Mary's College, a prestigious college in Cayelle which agreed to admit Joni provided she attained a respectable score in her high school matriculation. It turned out that the college was Gram's alma mater, and it was her dying wish that Joni was accepted into the college. That was never going to be an issue as Joni achieved distinctions in almost all her subjects during the final year exams. But what it meant was a six hundred miles of asphalt separating Joni and me when she left for college that autumn in two weeks' time. The furthest I had been was Lostar.
"You better write to me, Joni Satch," I said for the umpteenth time as we both got dressed that evening. "I need to live vicariously through you. Oh! The big city lights. Can you imagine all the high street fashion. I am so excited for you, but I wish you didn't have to go. Better still, I wish I could've gone with you." I moaned as I plopped onto the bed and stared forlornly at Joni's reflection in the mirror.
"I wish I don't have to go either. I can't believe Gram is making me attend her alma mater. It's payback, Caycee, for all the times I misbehaved."
"I'll just have to go and visit. I'll go so often until you'll be glad to see the back of me!" I laughed as I sprung back to the mirror to put the final touches of mauve eyeshadow to my kohl-lined eyes.
"Oh! Here's an idea. Get Lewis to accompany you. I am sure he would be more than eager to spend the time alone with you," Joni winked mischievously at me. "Caycee is in love ... Caycee is in love ... L.O.V ... eeks!" Joni's pathetic rhyme was interrupted as I pushed her down on the bed. Her laughter was muffled by
Years later, I would recall this moment as the last time I heard Joni laughed. The irony would not be lost on me that while Joni screamed her laugher into the pillow I held over her face, mine instead, would be of blinding searing pain.
Chapter Three
Lewis
The first time I saw her was at a funeral. My dad had been transferred from Lostar to oversee the building of the fishing yard down at Berwoth. The closest (livable) town was Aspee, and we moved in a week before the funeral took place. Our house was just on the next street, and my parents thought it was only neighbourly that we paid our final respects to a remarkable lady who appeared to have touched the lives of many. It didn't matter that we hadn't even said 'Boo' to her before she passed away in her sleep; it appeared to be a proper and sensible thing one did to assimilate into a new town. It made absolutely no sense to me.
Poised. That was how I remembered her to be. She sat on the first pew of the small church, with her head held high and her shoulders rigid and straight. Her long mahogany brown hair was held up in a ponytail. I hadn't seen her face properly, but I caught a glimpse of her proud chin when she turned and whispered to a girl sitting next to her. They made quite a picture; one with a back straight as a rod and the other, the shorter of the two, would lay her head sporadically on her friend's shoulder, supposedly in commiseration and comfort. I didn't think they were sisters. One having hair the colour of earth and the other of creamed honey.
At the wake, it was her friend who led her over to where I stood. My parents had disappeared, presumably to mingle and get to know the neighbours. I thought it was a crass thing to do. Does one exchange baked cookies and casserole recipes at a funeral? I was better left to my own devices, an awkward new kid in town, who wanted to be anywhere else on earth than at a funeral.
"So you've just moved into Baxter Street. Mama said you are attending the local college in the autumn. That's where I'll be going too," the blonde one said by way of introduction. It amazed me that people knew what you could be up to even if you hadn't properly met. In the week since we arrived, my mother must have done some serious chatting about, not just on the street we had moved into but from the sound of things, along the length of five subsequent streets on either side.
"And you are ...?"
"Oh, how rude! I'm Caycee, and this is Joni." Ah! So the remarkable lady was Joni's grandmother. I turned to look at her, the back still straight as ever but close-up, I could see the dark shadows under amazingly clear big brown eyes. I could just make out a tiny diamond-shaped mark, the colour of moss green, just below her right pupil. It mesmerised me. She extended her right hand towards me and whispered a soft hello.
I clasped her hand. Her fingers were so cold. I wanted to continue holding her hand until her fingers warmed up and came back to life.
"And you are Lewis." With that bold comment I released Joni's hand. I looked at Caycee and said the first thing that came to my mind. "My mother has done the introduction it seems. Without me."
"It is a small town after all," Caycee countered and shrugged.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Madisin by MION NG Copyright © 2012 by Mion Ng. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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