~BOOK FOUR~
(11/2 10.29pm)
(11/2 10.29pm)
Mr Sneezy.
The girls, both in their middle age, got on their slippers. It was uncommon for one of them; Zoe, the artist, to see someone in just plain slippers. You see, she has this obsession for shoes all her life. Marc Jacobs, Gucci, Prada, Christian Louboutin, Jimmy Choo's were some of her tastes. Almost four to five of them in every colour, Zoe is the kind of woman you don't want to talk about footwear. Let alone showing yours to her.
Sarah on the other hand, the journalist, who writes for Socks every fortnight is a woman where you see at those bazaars with a list and a pen. She keeps herself as simple as possible. Sarah is the kind of woman sometimes you wonder, how is it that she lives with Zoe.
"You got apples right?" Zoe requested as she tidied up her quite messy blonde hair.
"Er, there were no more apples, so I got those close to apples. Erm, appricots?" Sarah replied reading the label on the gift basket she purchased together with the tarts.
"Apples, appricots. Appricots, apples. I guess they'll do. After all they do get along with soft marigold teas, do they?" Zoe declared.
Sarah smiled agreeing to her girl friend. Both of them were heading to their new neighbour. It was a white house with round pillars at the front. Frangipani and lilacs bedded the garden outside the house. The large tree on the right hand side of the house gave shades to the lemon grass below. The rays of sunlight too was blocked though some did cut their way in landing themselves on the little buds of the yet to bloom grass flowers. The pathway made of little wood planks, made by Mrs Valley reminded Zoe of her childhood.
* * * * *
"Zoe?!!"
"Yes, mama!" the 5 year old cried form their lawn.
Her tricycle was left there lying. Mr Sneezy, her plushy elephant was also left. Zoe Miranda ran to her mother as quick as her feet took her.
"What is this?!!" the woman in her late 30's cried showing the kid a small scribble on a small plot of wall in the kitchen.
Crayons.
Crayons.
"What have I told you about your crayons and drawing? Never bring them to my kitchen! Now see what have you done! You think you're gonna pay for the paint? In this house, I work all alone and your father only sits on his wheelchair and do nothing but stare at the black box! What do I do to deserve such a life?!" her mother yelled.
She was furious. She was annoyed. And she got fed up. She ran up the stairs and brought the belt. Zoe Miranda who had been silent and feeling guilty all this time only saw the rage of her mother. She started trembling and tearing. Her mother got her. Zoe was like a tied up puppy. Only knowing how to cry and tear, she did nothing else. Every stroke from the leather made her tear and bleed even more. Zoe could only cry asking for forgiveness.
"Forgive me mama!! I promise I shall not do it again! Please, stop it please. Its painful," Zoe trembled in fear and pain.
Her mother never stopped. Her father could only sit there in the hall. Drops of tears damped his cheeks and as how much he tried to not to hear the cry of her own daughter, he could do nothing.
"Mama!!"
The tricycle was outside. Mr Sneezy too. All under a big shady tree with little frangipani and white lilacs.
* * * * *
"Zoe.." Sarah called softly after noticing her staring at the big tree and those flowers. Her eyes were wet and so were her cheeks.
Sarah knew. She wiped her tears. They reached the front door of the house and ranged the bell.
"Yes?"
