Gill-or-cupine

..--..

Embark on this journey not to discover the world but to find yourself. Do you understand, son?

Right-o. He understood. He understood it very well. To find himself. As if he was a padlock and didn’t know where his own key was. Fancy words from a man who’d never stepped two feet out of their family home.

He’d left for the journey with ninety pounds jingling in his pockets. Now, all he had was eighty cents. He bet he couldn’t even buy a loaf of bread with that, let alone ‘find himself’.

A shrill whistle sounded in the air like the cry of a banshee. As soon as he stepped on to the platform, all he could see was a wall of bracken surrounding the forgotten junction. He looked around and wasn’t surprised to find himself alone on the station. Well, except for an over-enthusiastic stationmaster, that is. The flagman chirped an exuberant ‘Good evening, young master’ and he returned it with a sardonic smile. The walk to the town took him through sights of old relics, a forlorn ship dock and a rusty old theatre.

Eripios. A small town, comfortably settled in a valley along the river Tamelis. There was nothing memorable about the place. It was as inconspicious as any other small town- brick and mortar houses lining every street, rugrats building sand castles on the river bed, colorful banners draping the lintels of shops that sold everything from rabbit meat to the local favorite- ‘sweet corn porridge’.

Gillian jammed his hands into the pockets of his tweed coat and shifted through its contents. His fingers tinkered with the few spare change left and a thin brow creased. Food seemed to be a luxury in this town. Everything was so pricey. He gave one last longing look at the porridge store. Tipping his beret down, he turned to walk away with a loud sigh.

An empty stomach and an empty wallet never go together, son. That’s what his old man used to say.

His stomach grumbled loudly in disagreement.

The sky rumbled in deep cacophony and drops of water hit him on the face, tracing the sharp path down his nose.

What his old man should have said was, to never forget to carry an umbrella.

..--..

It was raining that day... just like on all days when something ‘eventful’ was bound to happen. That was what Marty believed though she didn’t understand the mystic connection herself. Her older sisters never missed an opportunity to call her childish but what did they know? Sometimes, she did quietly wish that she had a brother instead. But truth be told, she didn’t want to end up like the queen in that fable. What was it called again? Oh yes. The Twelve Wild Geese. She didn’t even know how to sew sweaters yet.

That evening, Aunt Xylese put on her heavy rubber boots- the ones that went ‘chunk-chunk-chunk’ on the gravel pavement outside and frightened all the neighborhood cats away. She also put on her large overcoat and stepped outside to take out the trash. Marty watched her with her face glued to the stained window. Rainy days were usually mundane with nothing better to do than watch her sisters whine or stalk Aunt Xylese. The goodnatured old woman took it in her humor when Marty watched her do all the boring chores while clinging on to her coattails.

The little girl wiped the dew from the rain-splattered glass and squinted through it. She watched as Aunt Xylese yanked the lid open and stashed the garbage into the bin. The stout woman was about to turn around when she froze in her steps. Her eyebrows drew into a thin crease and she bent down. A curious expression dawned on Aunt Xylese’s face as she nudged the figure lying on the ground. Before Marty could alert the others, the door slammed open on its hinges and Aunt Xylese arrived in a panicked frenzy.

“Goodness gracious,” she exclaimed. “Natalie, - bring the stretcher! Aubrey, bring the first aid kit! Hurry!”

While the eldest complied and hurried to fetch what was asked, Aubrey who’d been busy reading a novel, sat up in confusion.

“But why? Who’s injured, Aunt?”

“No time to explain. Go, get the kit!”

“But-“

“AUBREY!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Aubrey said hesitantly, before setting the book aside and running off.

Marty looked outside the window again and stared at the figure barely revealed by the fence. “Aunt Xylese, what did you find? Is it a dying cat?” she asked, her mouth parted open.

“No dear, a boy! A boy! And he’s unconscious... the poor thing is drenched from head to toe. We need to get the hot water ready. Lin? Oh dear, where is Lin now? Where does that girl always disappear off to?”

“A boy?” Marty echoed enthusiastically. “Are we finally going to get a brother?” she asked cheerfully, bouncing on the couch.

“Lets just hope he survives, hun...”

..--..

The boy had a tall and lanky frame, making it all the more difficult to carry him in. His earthly possessions consisted only of his beret and a featherweight bag that had become drenched and soiled from the water on the pavement. The first time Xylese saw him, she mistook him for a sleeping stray. His head was a ball of white hair- messy, unruly and dipping wet. But once they got him inside the warmth of four walls and a bedside fire, the tame silver mane dried and turned wispy, sharp at the ends and ready to sting anyone who tried to get too close. The face, though, remained calm and asleep. His jagged breathing was audible in the room.

“How old is he?” Aubrey asked aloud, rubbing off the soreness in her hands.

“Must be fifteen atleast.”

“Big bro!” Marty added enthusiatically, bouncing her way into the room after the rest.

“Marty!” reproved her elder sisters in unison, motioning for her to keep quiet.

The four girls huddled into a corner and watched the boy in silence.

“What was he doing out there?” Lin asked, pointing to the storm brewing outside. Dark clouds of fury hovered over their town. The girls shuddered when the sky brightened momentarily with a flash of lightning.

“Perhaps, he is a traveler. Aunt found him unconscious on the pavement. He looks frail too... I wonder whether he’s been eating properly,” Natalie said worriedly.

“I just hope he isn’t another orphan. I dare say there is no room for one more in this house. Especially a delinquent boy,” Aubrey emphasized pointedly.

“What makes you think he is a delinquent?”

“I found a pack of cigars in his bag.”

“You went through his personal belongings?” Lin asked with wide eyes.

“... err- I shouldn’t?”

“But that’s wrong.”

“Since when is it a crime to snoop a little? Well, if it will help you sleep at night, I should let you know that I didn’t steal anything,” Aubrey hissed, biting her lip furiously.

“Don’t be so mean, Aubrey. On the contrary, I think he looks as harmless as a lost kitten,” Natalie said, giving a half smile.

“You mean, lost porcupine?” Aubrey reiterated with a grin. “His hair is wild...”

“Pocupine? Aw! Natalie, can I pet him to sleep? Please, can I? Can I?” Marty suddenly asked, settling next to his elbow and patting his hair to set it straight. With her face puffed like a balloon, she scrutinized the unconscious boy. The eldest had to drag her away to a safer distance.

“He is already asleep, Marty,” Aubrey said, with a roll of her eyes.

“Why does he have white hair?” the little one mused. “Is he old like Aunt Xylese?”

“An albino?” Aubrey questioned.

“He could be,” answered the quiet Natalie.

“Does he have a name?” Marty asked relentlessly.

“Everyone has a name, child,” Aunt Xylese chided as she entered the noisy room. The old woman held a pan of steaming, hot water and a bunch of towels wrapped around her shoulder. “For now, lets just hope he makes through the night.”

..--..

Gillian didn’t have a pleasant dream. He felt nauseated and pale. Drained of all energy from his travels, he distinctly remembered collapsing on the sidewalk under the weight of the rain. On what happened to him after that, he had no memory. Not even a faint thread. Although he did remember the gentle touch of soft fingers ruffling his hair. He did remember a childlike voice praying by his side and asking him to get well soon. When he woke up, the warmth of the alien room was uncannily familiar and so was the tiny arm wrapped around his. He sat up groggily, grimacing at the slight pain in his forearm. He stared at the little girl who had her head buried in his mattress. When he moved, she whimpered in protest... rendering him completely still. Dressed in a night gown, she was sleeping in an awkward position with snot blowing under her nose.

Gillian traced the warm towel around his forehead and removed it from his skin. Glancing at it for a long time, he sighed.

He wished these strangers hadn’t bestowed him with such kindness and hospitality. It wasn’t fair on him since he had little money to return their hospitality with.

But the question etched in his mind was... Where was he?

His eyes moved in the direction of the open window. The sky was a dark shadow of what he’d last seen, lit by a few stars scattered along the north. The moon was nowhere to be seen. Night, he said to himself drowsily. His vision faltered and his mind tempted him back into slumber. He laid back against his plump bolster and drifted off to sleep again, the bed squeaking under his weight.

When he woke up again, his vision hurt at the bright sunshine streaking in through the window. And now, there were four pairs of eyes staring back at him in earnest.

Never to back away from an open fight, he sat up against his pillow and joined the staring game. The little girl was wide awake and still by his side. She nudged his elbow.

He raised one brow at her.

“Hello. I’m Marty. What’s your name?” she asked, her smile widening into a grin.

“... Gillian,” he answered warily, shifting backwards as if she were a plague.

“Isn’t that a girl’s name?” she asked, pouting.

“No,” he answered after a long pause.

Aubrey stood up so abruptly, surprising everyone in the room. She folded her arms and glared at him. “Do you always give one-worded replies or is that the way you usually treat people who save your skinny hide?”

He stared at her and let out a long, pent-up breath. “Sorry,” he replied with a smirk. “But if I’ve been too much trouble, I digress. I shall leave right away.”

He threw his legs to the side and realized he was draped in pink pyjamas that had a silly looking floral print all over it. “What in the world-“ he exclaimed, scratching at the horrendous looking thing.

“They’re mine,” Natalie remarked with a simple smile. “We couldn’t find anything else that fit your size.”

He gaped at her before shaking his head furiously. “I thank you for your hospitality. But I must leave. Now, if you could kindly retrieve my own clothes and my bag...”

“You can’t leave,” Marty shrilled.

“And why not?” he asked, her cross-eyed.

“Because we’re having sweet porridge for supper,” the girl announced enthusiastically.

..--..

Supper was a chaotic affair. The clash of the cutlery, he would have liked to amend. It occured to him that they were treating him as part of the family though they hardly knew him and vice versa. He watched them as they said their prayers and dug into their meals like hungry wolves. With a sumptuous gourmet of food set before him, it wasn’t long before he joined the pack. He guessed that he didn’t mind leaving with a stomach full. Why refuse a square meal when it was being handed on a silver platter? His old man would probably agree on this one.

It wasn’t until the last piece of salmon remained on the plate, did he witness the utter ruthlessness of the Amazon women. Lin and Aubrey armed with their forks and knives, went in for the attack. What remained after the brief battle were a few nicely cleaned bones. Gillian stared at them in a mixture of awe and fear. He shifted discreetly to the left end of the table to put more distance between them and himself. It became all the more clear to him that he ought to leave their company as swift as possible.

After the cutlery had returned to their proper places on the table, he decided to bring up the ‘oh-so-painful’ subject of his departure. He turned to Aunt Xylese and bowed low.

“Thank you for the wonderful food. But I shouldn’t stay longer.”

“But Gillian, you are still sick. You need bedrest for atleast three more days.”

“Yes, Gill-or-cupine, you do. Besides, you don’t want to run out on us after taking advantage of our hospitality, do you?” Aubrey suggested meekly.

“Aubrey!” the others frowned.

Gillian felt tongue-tied and didn’t say anything. He just nodded in embarrasment. “... no, I guess I wouldn’t want that.”

Marty patted his hand and looked up at him with doe eyes. “Please stay, Gill-or-cupine,” she pleaded.

He let out a sigh in answer.

..--..

After three days of forced bed rest, Gillian had come to a few conclusions. The girls weren’t related to each other or to their matriach, Xylese. They were all orphans of war. They were an odd set of siblings, as odd as mixing butter, jam and honey. He was pretty sure that Aubrey, the redhead, wasn’t the sweet one. Probably the one who distrusted him the most, she wasn’t even afraid to voice the opinion out aloud at dinner. She was quick at her wits and sharp with her tongue. If she spent less time reading novels, she could actually run for mayor. Pity, he found himself muttering out aloud.

Natalie was a pretty, docile girl and as good natured as the aunt. The oldest among the supposed siblings, she hardly ever raised her voice and tended to spoil the youngest. Lin was the tomboy in the family. Her interests included fishing... as apparent as it was after she spent the whole of last night, narrating how she caught the ‘ol, big one’ off the Tamelis coast. She said it was the biggest catfish anyone had ever seen, amounting to three feet. But he knew better that they never went past sixteen inches.

And then, there was Marty. His phantom shadow. She liked playing the game of tag with him, although at times he wasn’t even aware that he was a participant. She followed him into the kitchen when he went to drink water; she trailed him on his way to bed; she accompanied him when he went to breathe some fresh air in the balcony and sometimes, even tried to follow him into the bathroom unwittingly.

“You’re Marty, right?”

She nodded chirpily.

“Don’t you have friends your own age?” he asked, scratching his white hair in irritation.

She shrugged and didn’t answer his question but continued smiling. Gillian sighed at the pain of it all.

“I’m going to take a bath now. So, go off to annoy someone else please.”

Her smile vanished. She left the room, downcast.

..--..

Someone had pinned a bright pink notice on his door. It was a list of chores to do. Every member of the family had to take turns in doing the work around the house. Apparently, someone thought it was funny to let him know that it was his turn today.

He read the list out aloud.

1. Do the laundry.

2. Wash the dishes.

3. Water the begonias.

4. Dry the clothes.

5. Sweep the-

When the list went on and on, Gillian’s eyes squinted and the words started flowing. He was a wanderer, meant to traverse across lands and seas through his journey of enlightenment. This journey was supposed to have taken him to manhood. Yet, here he was stuck in a happy home of the female kind, being forced to become one of them. It was revolting.

“I’ll be damned if they turn me into a go-fer. I’m a man of fifteen summers. I refuse to do such-“

“Oh, Gillian?” a voice spoke up.

He turned to his right and found Natalie standing next to him. She held a basket of dirty linen and shoved it into his hands. “I was searching for you. Here’s the laundry. Remember to use soap,” she advised in good will and left as soon as she’d come.

Gillian stared at the basket and scrunched up his nose in disgust.

..--..

Gillian or Gill-or-cupine, as he was being called these days, sat on top of the roof of Xylese’s house every day, trying to plot his getaway. The boy turned out to be as friendly as his hair. Aunt Xylese assumed that he was still at an age where he wasn’t too fond of girls... especially those that tried to pet him like he was a lost animal. But Gillian didn’t have the time to entertain a family of orphans... especially those of the female kind. His journey just couldn’t stop at Eripios. And he absolutely refused to do the laundry one more time.

On the fourth day, he decided to sneak out while the women were in the kitchen. He searched for his bag and his hat but couldn’t find the latter. Mumbling out a colorful curse, he shrugged painfully at the loss of his beloved beret, paid his respects to the missing hat and tiptoed to the front door. But as fate would have it, Natalie stumbled upon him trying to escape. He had been just a mere few inches away from the doorknob.

On the fifth day, he decided to climb down the water pipe which didn’t do him any good in the aftermath. The metal caved under his weight and threw him into the begonias water bed. Mud splattered and wincing, he was helped out by the family. Having barely survived with one sprained ankle, a few broken bones and an injured pride, he was forced to stay back even longer.

On the sixth day, he found himself in the balcony. Despite the heavy cast around his elbow, he eyed the wash line with interest. He had never been good at acrobatics but he knew he could crawl over the rope and land safely on the other side. Just when he had managed to traverse halfway across the tightrope of lingerie let out to dry, the neighbor’s cat jumped on him. It dug its claws deep into the skin on his back, making him yell out in pain. He tried to wrestle with the furry monster but ended up attracting the whole neighborhood from the commotion. He retreated back to the Xylese home with a scowl etched on his face.

If his escapades were to be called a game, he was turning out to be a pitiful failure at it.

He was sulking in the balcony, trying to smoke a cigar in peace when someone tapped his shoulder. He scrunched up his face in pain and glared at her but she folded her skirt neatly and sat down next to him.

“You are too old to smoke,” Aubrey chided.

“What’re you going to do about it? Sell me out to your aunt? Prosecute me for larceny?” he retorted in bitterness. And yet, he removed the stick from his lips and chucked into his pocket for later.

“Why are you so intent on running away despite your injuries?” she asked.

“What gives you the impression I’m trying to run away? I’m not a coward.”

“You tried to circus your way out. Lets atleast be honest here.”

He swiveled his head around and glared at her icily. And she chuckled. Apparently, his glares were worth only that much these days.

“Of all the people I expected to counsel me, you’d be the last.”

“Oh, you’re not the one I’m worried about.”

He raised an eyebrow in question.

She sighed and looked pointedly at him. “You see. You still don’t understand. Did you ever think about Marty?”

“What about the little kid?”

“She thinks you’re the brother she’d always hoped to have.”

“Brother?” he echoed skeptically.

“She adores you like a little sister. You should listen to her talk every night. ‘I bet Gillian can beat up all the town’s bullies and make them eat dirt. I bet Gillian can ride a bicycle blind folded. I bet he’s wrestled with a crocodile. I bet he’s just pretending to run away.’ That’s all she ever talks about...” Aubrey trailed, swallowing the tight knot in her throat.

An awkward silence followed. Gillian wondered why Aubrey had taken the pain to sought out his company. Preaching didn’t suit her. Sensing that she might have spoken too much, she stood up abruptly and excused herself.

Gillian welcomed the solitude. He laid back against the wall and took a deep breath.

“I bet I can even turn rum into donkey piss,” he said to himself, closing his eyes in thought.

..--..

On the mid-afternoon of the seventh day since his arrival, he realized that the time he’d spent at the alma matter hadn’t been a futile cause. His scout’s skills had never left him. Before long, he succeeded in tying together several layers of bedsheets and hung it out of the balcony. He tested the strength of the bedpost, praying it wouldn’t fail him. Picking up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder, he started his slow descent down one storey. The successive knots at the ends of each layer helped him keep his balance as he climbed down at a snail’s pace. When his feet felt the ground at long last, the feeling of relief and freedom resonated deep within him. After one last look at the foster home, he whistled a silent goodbye with a tilt of his head, skipped over the white pickety fence and scuttled forward to continue his journey.

His time to bid farewell had come. Eripios would now only remain a dot on his map. An insignificant little dot.

He could live with that, couldn’t he?

Yet, the further he stepped away from the Xylese home, the heavier did his heart get.

What was this silly feeling?

He sighed and shook his head, hoping the action would clear his head from turbulent thoughts. Thoughts that might end up changing his mind and no, he didn’t want that at all. His feet stopped moving and he found himself at a fork in the road that split into a wide alleyway and the road to the countryside. He stared at the green signpost and turned frigid.

What was he still waiting for?

Hadn’t he been trying to get away all this while and yet when he had finally got the chance, why couldn’t his ruddy feet move?

He kicked a pebble absent-mindedly and watched it bounce off the signpost. In the far distance, the whistle of the stationmaster informed him of a passing train. Wonderful, he spat out gloomily. The next train wouldn’t be until two hours later. How convenient, he told himself bitterly. He bit his lower lip and brushed the sweat off his forehead. A familiar scent wafted by his nose and he blinked in surprise. The sweet corn porridge.

Gillian broke into a smile.

..--..

The shop owner stared at his white fringe while handing him a steaming, hot bowl. He’d been getting strange, pointed looks from all the locals. He mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ in reply and scooted over to a shaded spot far from prying eyes. Blowing over the sweltering porridge, he dug a spoon into it and tasted it. It was delectably sweet and yet, there was something missing. He couldn’t put a finger on what that was. The Eripion delicacy had tasted divine in the Xylese home, melting in his mouth and sending a wave of intense joy through his body. But now, it felt just like... porridge.

His thoughts were interrupted by shrill laughter. He turned his attention to the little crowd of boys that had gathered at the market center.

“What’s that in your hand?” one of them asked.

“I-It’s none of your concern,” a familiar voice replied. Gillian choked on the last spoonful and spat it out in shock. Marty. He could swear upon his old man’s grave that he’d heard Marty’s voice.

“Aw, come on. Let us have a look at it. We won’t hurt ya, we promise,” the leader of the little troupe crooned darkly. They huddled around her and started pulling at her elbow while the little girl backed away meekly.

Gillian sighed. Naivety was a besetting sin of the Amazon women folk. They trust others too easily. Just the way, they’d trusted him... And then, Aubrey’s words echoed in his ears.

I bet Gillian can beat up all the town’s bullies and make them eat dirt.

He sighed again and started folding the sleeves of his shirt. Next, to come off were the cuffs.

One of the boys had caught on to Marty’s hands and started pulling her fingers apart. “Bullies,” she yelled in a high-pitched voice but didn’t let go of the object she was protecting. The leader snickered. “Marty, the scaredy cat,” he shouted in a singsong voice and others soon joined the chorus.

Two rough hands caught on to the leader’s collar and threw him aside. The eight year old fell into a rotten pile of decaying fruits and scattered hay. Letting out a growl, he emerged like a wounded tiger, looked up fiercely and gawked at the stranger. Gillian was cracking his knuckles with a sneer on his lips. “Haven’t you ever learnt that you should treat ladies with utmost respect... especially the little ones?”

The leader stuttered a humble apology and was quick on his feet. He swiveled around and made a dash into the crowd of the market plaza.

Gillian turned to the others and found that the little troupe had disbanded a long time ago. Marty sat on the ground with her knees hunched up. He puffed up his cheeks and crouched next to her.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, searching his pockets for a handkerchief.

“... No,” she replied gravely.

“They shouldn’t have sent you out alone.”

“They... they didn’t,” Marty replied, turning her head sideways and refusing to look at him. “I saw you leaving and I... I wanted to give you this.”

She pulled the object from her lap and held it out to him. His beloved brown beret. Though crumbled, it looked almost as new as the day he’d first bought it. He took it from her and stared at it, his light eyes softening under the glow of the afternoon sun.

“You came all the way to give me my hat?”

Marty nodded.

He stared and after a long thoughtful silence, he reached out with one hand to pat her softly. “Thank you... very much, little sis.”

Her face brightened and she threw her small arms around his neck. “Big bro, don’t leave. Please.”

He let out a low whistle and looked up at the Eripion sky. It was a shade of dark blue but the redness of dusk was sneaking in, unasked.

“Alright. We should get you home first,” he said, rising from the ground and nestling Marty on one arm. She was heavier than most six-year-olds but he was least bothered. Wearing the beret on his head, he threw his bag on the other shoulder and started a slow walk towards their home.

“So, are you going to stay, Gill-or-cupine?” the little one asked him, worried for his answer.

“I might. On two conditions.”

“Huh?”

“One, you must stop calling me that horrendous name.”

She smiled gleefully. “Aye aye, captain,” she shouted, making a few passersby’s turn around and stare. “And two?”

“Never ask me to wrestle with a jaw-breaking crocodile,” he cited and ruffled her hair. "It won't be a fair fight."

"Why?"

"The poor thing wouldn't stand a chance against the mighty Gillian, that's why," he said with a knowing smirk.

That night, they had sweet corn porridge for dinner. And for a reason that he now understood, it tasted just the way he’d imagined it. Soft, delicious and with a little pinch of family love. Perhaps, that had been the missing ingredient all along. Not just in the dish but maybe in his life too. He guessed he could bear with the Xylese home for a little while longer. Perhaps, his journey never really had to end here. Perhaps, this was just the new beginning to finding himself. His old man could sleep with no regrets.

..--..