My dreams were becoming more pronounced each day like it’s been pushing me to remember memories that I have forgotten with urgency. I woke up with same feeling of dread and emptiness pushing me in a lonely silence in the confines of my home.

            “Tehru-chan, daijobu?” a woman’s voice asked.

            “Okasan, he’s leaving.” the kid cried.

            “He’ll be back. He promised you right?” her soft voice said soothing the child.

            “Who will I play with?” the child whined.

            “Okasan is here.” the woman smiled.

            “I will miss him.” the child said wiping her eyes.

            “I’m sure he will miss you too.” she said the child’s hair. “How about you give him a gift so that he’ll remember you while he’s away?”

            The girl stopped crying and smiled. “You’ll help me pick a gift?”

            “Hai.”

            “Okasan.” the girl called. “This is beautiful.”

            The woman looked at the thing her daughter is holding a white scarf with an intricate Japanese design on the edge. “Do you want that one?”

            “Hai. It’s white like a snow.” she beamed.

            “Yes, indeed.”

            “Okasan, do you think he would like this?” the little girl asked waving a white cloth.”

            “Of course, Tehru-chan.” her mother smiled.

            “Are we there yet?” the little girl asked.

            “We’re almost there, honey.” the mother said. “Check your seatbelt.”

            “I’m tucked safely, okasan.” the little girl smiled.

            “Tehru-chan, I think we should go back the rain is building.” the mother’s voice said worriedly.

            “But okasan, he will be gone tomorrow and he’s waiting for me.” the girl protested.

            “We’ll catch him in the airport tomorrow, dear.” her mother explained, trying to focus in front of her.

            The little girl started crying, “I won’t see him again.”

            “Oh honey. That’s not true.” her mother said.

            My dreams always ended with a deafening car crash and me waking up in the middle of the night, screaming. What frustrates me more is that I don’t know who the boy I am talking about in my dreams, the boy I am supposed to give the scarf with. I wanted to know who he is, I’m certain that he’s the key to all of this.

            I’m in the kitchen drinking coffee pondering the meaning of my dreams. The white scarf lay on the kitchen table mocking me. I thought about calling Misaki but dismissed the idea. I don’t have to bother her all the time.

            A sudden thought occur to me and I eyed my phone warily. I know I shouldn’t have refrain myself for even considering it but I know I should’ve done this a long time ago.

            I picked up my phone and dialed my father’s number.

            The day is cold and damp, a feel of emptiness matching the occasion. Weather fit for a funeral. Endless crying sailed in the background while I stare on my mother’s tomb. ‘She’s not coming back.’ I thought.

            I remember her promises that she’ll never leave my side. All gone. Empty.

            “From now on it’s just you and I.” my father told me from behind setting a heavy hand on my shoulder.

            Tears trickled on my eyes. “I will never see her again.”

            “You have to say goodbye.” my father murmured.

            He left me alone, standing in my mother’s grave. People around me murmured condolences and empty parting words. I heard shouting behind me but I ignored it.

            “Tehru-chan, it’s time to go.” my grandmother said.

            “Why can’t I remember the accident, obaasan?” I asked helplessly.

            “Sometimes dear, it’s better to forget the bad memories.” my grandmother explained.

            “I want to remember.” I wailed. “Am I going crazy?”

            “No, dear. Your brain just doesn’t want to accept in now.” she said kindly. “In time dear, it will all come back.”

            I was ushered away from my mother’s tomb and the next thing I know I was in a white office. A doctor was pacing in front of me explaining things I don’t understand.

“…you’re in shock. It’s normal don’t rush yourself to remember.” the doctor is saying.

I’m five years old and I just lost my mom. My father and I grew distant. I’m sitting here dealing with my own grief with a doctor telling me things I don’t want to hear. I know I am missing something, like a picture snatched away from me. All I have is myself, a lost memory, a necklace and a white scarf.

I was pulled back to reality when my father picked up the phone. He answered on the nth ring.

“Tehru?” my father’s rough voice answered.

“Otosan.”

“Is there something wrong?” my dad asked immediately.

Yes dad, my whole life felt wrong. “I’m just wondering if I can ask you something.”

“What is it? Do you need anything?” he asked.

I winced inwardly; to my father the problem is always the material things. “No dad. I just have a question; I won’t take your whole time.”

“What is it?” he asked cautiously, his secretary in the background.

“I was wondering if you know what happened…the night of mom’s accident.” I finished nervously.

Silence.

“Tehru, we’ve talked about this a thousand times.” he said coldly.

“I need to know, dad.” I pleaded.

“I don’t know anything.” he replied. “I need to go.”

“But dad—.” I started but he cut me off.

“It will be better if we leave your mother’s memory at peace.” he said.

What about my memories? I wanted to shout. “Dad please, I’m having these dreams—.”

“I don’t have time to talk about this.” he barked. “And about your dreams I can always recommend you to doctor—.”

“Forget it dad.” I said my voice matching his tone. “One day I’ll remember and I know you’re hiding something.”

“Tehru—.”

I cut the call, my heart beating fast. The phone rang but I turned it off completely. I felt a new sense of determination and my dad won’t stop me.

A/N:

Ahh..another bit of Tehru's past. What is it her dad's trying to hide? Better watch out. ^^ Love Yah!!

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