Year 3 Diploma in Mass Communication

Module: Creative Writing – Short Story

 

“Rowan!”

 

I spin around. “Yes?”

 

“Don’t forget to take your coat with you,” Mom reminds me, frowning slightly. “You don’t want that…Wolf catching sight of that hair of yours.” She eyes my hair for a long second, and I’m starting to think that she will start going on about Nan again, as she does without fail when I’m about to leave. She wants to make sure I return home, unlike what happened with Nan. I remember her hair vividly. She used to always complain to me about how it was so unapologetically – annoyingly – curly. I would giggle in response, but would think it resembled flames licking her face, and made her look ready to be engulfed any moment.

 

To my surprise, Mom does not say anything this time, and turns away to pry my coat off the hook by the door.

 

Taking it from her, I give her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

 

The door groans on its hinges as I push it.

 

“Cover your head before going outside!”

 

I stride out the door, muttering just loud enough for her to hear me say, “I’m covering it, I’m covering it.”

 

A bead of sweat starts to form at my hairline. The humid air feels sticky against my skin. With weather like this, how can you expect me to wear that suffocating coat for hours every time I step out of the house? I cling to my stubbornness for a bit. But after a few more steps, sensibility wins over, and I finally pull the hood over my head.

 

The sole reason I have to wear the damn thing is to conceal this ridiculous red hair that neither of my parents have. I’m the only one constantly walking around brandishing an “I’m Here” signboard, like those placards people use in the airport to be recognizable – a neon one.

 

But it might not last for long. A hum escapes my lips as I imagine a redheaded newborn in the cradle of my mother’s embrace. I’ve always wanted a sister.

 

I reach the middle of the tune I’m humming as the huge tree with red flowers that never bloom comes into view. The convenience store is just around the corner. I’m already hearing the familiar jingle, and my heartbeat seems to hasten with my footsteps, a conditioned reflex.

 

A figure jogs up to me as I approach. Although I’m not the one crossing the distance in such a short time, another drop of perspiration falls down the side of my face. It seems to get impossibly warmer. It’s been five years since we first met, under the Giant Tree – as we like to call it. All it took was a single online post, a common interest, and we’ve come this far.

 

“Nico, you didn’t have to run,” I tease, but I’m smiling.

 

“I wanted to make sure you’re safe, you know. Who knows, if I reached 5 seconds later, the Wolf would have gotten to you first.”

 

We start walking, so Nico doesn’t notice when I roll my eyes. He knows I don’t like it when he jokes about that. “Yeah, right.”

 

With a toothy grin, he hands me a wrapped sandwich. “I got you the usual.”

 

I meet his grin with one of my own. Quickly I unwrap the packaging. It is extra red today. I’m about to look up to praise him for listening to my prior request when someone crashes into me, knocking the sandwich out of my hand.

 

“Sorry,” the man grunts and moves to pick up my sandwich, the red sauce spilling onto the asphalt. His nose twitches and he drops it in my palm as if it burned him.

 

“It’s extra spicy today, just as you wanted it. Aren’t I good?” Nico continues, already leading me away.

 

I smile and nod, blowing the sandwich off as if blowing away the germs and taking a huge bite.

 

We fall into silence as we continue our way to our destination, the dead leaves crushing beneath our feet the only sound filling the air. Before I know it, my sandwich is gone and we’re here.

 

Past the glass doors, the lift dings to welcome us in. Illuminating the flaking wallpaper patterned sparsely with handprints and footprints of the many lizards and pests living here, the lamp, for once, was not flickering.

 

We pass four doors on either side before stopping in front of the one with its unit number plate dangling on one hinge. Deciding to finally break the silence, I start as Nico turns his key in the lock, “You know, my sister will be born soon.”

 

Nico tugs at my hood so a wisp of red hair peeks out. “Yeah. I hope she’ll look just like you and your grandma.”

 

Turning to the apartment, my gaze was met with dots of red, here and there, everywhere. A wave of familiarity and anticipation tickles my stomach.

 

I smile at the head on the shelf directly across me, looking almost as if it was on fire.

 

“Oh, I’m sure she will.”