My Unconventional Friend

I was a real Daddy's Girl. I thought the world of him. I loved his blond curly hairs and how his blue eyes gleamed when he looked at me. He was perfect in every way. I adored him. I was his little tail, followed him everywhere. In fact, he could never take a single photo because I always wanted to be in the same frame with him. Even if my face didn't show, one could still always see my foot or hand in the background. I had to be there - I had to be a part of him. I was the princess and he helped me make my own armies of all the boys in my areas. 

And then, just like that, I lost him. No warnings. No preparation. In the morning, he kissed me goodbye on my forehead as he dropped me to school. By evening, he was gone. Forever. 

My 6 years old heart couldn't understand or process the pain. Suddenly, everyone was sad, everyone was crying. And everyone suddenly kept patting my head. Or kept taking me away to different rooms and outside. 

Have you ever lost someone who meant the world to you? Watched as their body went down the ground, listened to that first splash of mud fell on your heart until they completely buried your whole soul? Ever walked back feeling like a zombie - your body continued to function, everything continued mechanically but you were no longer there - you were buried deep into the ground, your soul rotting where the world had forgotten. 

In one day, I changed overnight. I suddenly grew up. I had to be the strong one. 

My grades excelled. I won all awards. I was the perfect student. The perfect daughter. I was the model student. I became the pride of mom. 

But through it all - nobody saw me. 

Nobody knew what I hid in plain sight. 

I was a gravestone coated in fresh paint. I developed my lifelong obsession with cleanliness. 

But then she saw me - in the most unlikely places. 

She was caught yet again for prostitution and was behind bar. I was a kid visiting my mom at work. I strayed and walked to where they held her. I stood there watching her in her seat. She looked up from her seat and stared at me. I stared back. 

We just watched each other in silence for a long time. Then, without a word, I went closer and held out my hand to her. She didn't move immediately. And then, she gave me her hand and we shook/held(?) hands. 

She was everything the world warned me about. She was an alcoholic and had too many men abusing her for their pleasure. She was in too deep, she could never get out. Every time she tried to get out, she failed. Over and over. Again and Again. 

She got herself beaten so many times she lost her teeth, her nose broken so many times, she had problem breathing. She was so desperate for drinks that she couldn't even be discreet in her trade. She got herself arrested so many times, I lost count. Had her head shaved, shamed, ridiculed. She got men used her in all sorts of ways. 

She always chose the wrong men for her, always going for the bad boys. It was like she had a magnet to pick up the shittiest douchebags in the room who would treat her worse than her last lovers. It was like she was addicted to getting her heart broken. It was like she enjoyed starving herself, changing herself to please the men who never treasured nor respected her. 

And through these all - I was there. I was her witness. As she was mine. 

Through it all, she would tell me the same thing over and over again, "I make these mistakes for the both of us. Watch me carefully. I am never going to get out. I am going to die in here. But you are never to going to get in here. You are going to succeed for the both of us. I am the black. You are the white. I am the failure. You are the success. Go and fulfil your destiny."

In the end, she drank herself to death. She was hospitalised and the doctor warned her that if she had even a drop of alcohol, she would die. She headed straight for the liquor store after the hospital and drank alcohol until she coughed up blood, fell unconscious and died few days later. 

I couldn't save her and it wasn't because of my lack of trying. In the end, she only wanted me to watch her. To witness her life. So, I learn the cause, action and result. 

She was hellbent on killing herself and making sure I never follow suit. She did all the bad things and let me sit on the passenger seat as she drove herself to death. 

Now that I am adult, why did she pick me? Why did I pick her? Why did I gave her my hand, stretch it out to her as she sat in the prison cell? Why did I have to touch her? And why did she have to touch me?