Don't touch your eyebrow!

-a short story

I.

“Don’t touch your eyebrow!” Mom shouts while snapping her attention from her coughing chest, her resentment to my action is very evident and provocative.

“But why? It isn’t at all something inherently bad!!!”, I respond in a shrill yet low tone as to not offend her. However, she becomes oblivious to my reply and sinks back into her retrospective face. I have observed that all of her anger exists within the presence of disgust and awe.

“It is nothing of that sort Jimmy, I just had something excruciating flash—No, not flash, it was a vision…Ugh! Bad choice of words—it was—it was just a bad guess or a dream or some—Perhaps I should doze off for the night. My head isn’t working linearly to be precise.” She turns her back towards me and starts walking upstairs.

“Have you been taking your medication seriously, because the last time- “

“Stop lecturing me, Jim!” mom shouts with whatever air that’s left in her chest and lets out a coarse cough, without turning towards me, she starts murmuring again, “I have been sleeping along their side for a year, a year Jimmy!! Do you know how long that is? I sometimes suspect if it’s just water condensed inside a cylindrical capsule.”

“Mom, I see you are agitated, but these things take time and also your—”, the door of her bedroom slams shut. This is her polite signal for no further chatter and I do respect it. Solitude is the catalyst for convalescence; I’d never disturb her solitary confinement.

With mom’s retreat, there had been some shuffling upstairs for a while, probably because she is still anxious over my eyebrow. She has a habit of pacing back and forth whenever something bothers her, I do that too. It’s probably just genetics. When the rustle upstairs finally dissolves, I hear a loose tap dripping somewhere around the kitchen. Without creating a disturbance, I walk up to the sink and tighten the tap for good. I prefer complete silence over white noise, eerie and creative silence.

The tap needed a bit of meddling because of its poor build, Anna got it from the convenience store around the street. This store has some of the wildest things I’d ever seen. I remember witnessing a 10-foot daredevil replica with the most nauseating detailing. First of all Charlie Cox is 5’10’’ and Daredevil isn’t blue, he’s maroon or whatever shade of dark red the show portrays him. I don’t even know how that store does not cease to exist, I’d probably die out of embarrassment if I was that old guy with whiskers.

After being done in the kitchen, I walk back and spread my legs over the sofa to ponder upon the conversation before. I just can’t seem to realize what could be so bad about touching my eyebrow? It’s not even derogatory like showing a middle finger or pointing to someone’s ass, and it’s not even subtle and wide in interpretations like winking or smiling. It’s neither signalling nor expressing, what could be so bad about brazing my fingers over a bunch of useless hair—I mean wait, they aren’t useless, but other than serving the aesthetics of the face, they are pretty much just present for the plot—the plot of the face I mean.

Also, I’m either 16 or conscious at a given moment, and both of these rare coincidences never occur mutually. The former is dominative and I think the latter doesn’t exist in me. Sometimes I get bored of acting 16, so I start acting 17 and call it an act of self-consciousness. But isn’t me recognizing that I act 16 and 17 an act of great conscious awareness? Nah, I think it’s just buffoonery-wait, back to eyebrows. I think mom just said that in influence of her pills, or just as a warning, because my hands invite a lot of pimples all over.

I couldn’t guess more, but I think I felt a bit sleepy with all this voracious episode of thinking. That’s when I hear someone creaking through the main door.

I sleep like I’m dead, so I was pretty sure that the thud was in my house as my eyes were quite open. I was drowsy but not the extent of collapsing flat. So, I walk up to the door to see what’s the trouble.

“My God Anna, What the hell!!!”

“Shush, Jimmy keep your voice down!! I saw the lamplight over mom’s curtains upstairs; she still might be awake!”

“Okay fine, but the what the hell is wrong with your knees, they are bruised so bad!” I murmur in an extremely low tone to avoid attention.

“So, please let me explain, you know that guy Bull, right?…Yeah, so he invited a lot of our classmates to his house this evening and we didn’t know what was the matter. When we all banged his door, he was already dressed up like a hitchhiker on leave. It turns out that he invited all of us with his maniac dad to a hike up this strange hill. And, that is where I was this evening. Although the climb was easy, during the descent he decided to spark a new adventure with an undiscovered trail, and that is where I almost lost my life—wait that’s an exaggeration—but Jimmy I fell forward!!! And I crashed both of my knees into this huge sturdy stone. It’s not that complicated, and it was fun, but—but I think I shouldn’t have gone, don’t worry Jim—I’m fine, I really am! Also how was Mom today?”

“God damn Anna, sometimes I feel like I’m the elder brother and you are 16 and absolutely nuts, why the hell would you agree to that idiot’s plan?”

“I asked you something else, Jim.”

“I will tell you that, but let me first mend that idiotic legs of yours, I can’t believe I have to pamper an 18-year-old kid who can’t even walk straight”.

“Have your time Jimmy, today’s your day, I am neither in the mood nor in the condition to talk back trash, if you would’ve lent me a glass of water, the wound would’ve already been better.”

“Okay fine weirdo, now move yourself up to that sofa, I’ll grab something to make this better… Can you walk a bit?”

“Yes yes, I can, now if you may.” Anna brazed past me into the sofa and relaxed her hands over her forehead.

Usually, I would wake up Mom and try to get Anna obliterated to shame, but her wound needs treatment before that or it may cause some problems. If mom wakes up, she wouldn’t stop lecturing her for an hour, I guess it’s better being silent about this because I want some peace.

I walk up to the kitchen and grab the first-aid-kit with an antiseptic and medical tape. As usual, I tell her to be quiet because the solution will burn, and next I clean the wound, stop the bleeding and wrap a bandage up her knees in a way which doesn’t interrupt her walking. Her left knee seemed a lot worse than her right.

The room was pretty humid and I felt as my forehead was burning. I had a strong desire to scratch my forehead with my nails but there was too much sweat. I put up my non-working left hand to wipe sweat off, but Anna grabbed my hand in a swift.

“Don’t touch your eyebrow!!”

“How the hell do you know that!!!” I try to keep my voice as low as possible while still displaying my anger.

“Know what??”

“That I shouldn’t touch my eyebrow!!”

“You dumbass! The bacteria and fungus and whatever the fuck will spread into your skin from my wound, at least wash your hands before doing that!”

“It’s not that”, and I accidentally gaze into my left hand and realize that she was right, there was still a piece of cotton half soaked in blood stuck to the back of it.

“What I meant was that mom was saying something similar too, is this some new illness in the family, like a no-touching-policy or what not?”

“The heck are you talking about, just let me sleep dude.”

“Fineeeee—Also, are you sure that your left knee isn’t completely gone? I think it might be fractured.”

“It most probably isn’t Jim, I think it’s this way because it took the impact first, I’ll just take a nap here and tell mom in the morning, goodnight, Jim.”

“Here?? At least go to your room! Just let me rest here for a bit.”

Anna doesn’t reply back and I know that she won’t budge even if I try to move her. I let her be and walk into Anna’s room to sleep for tonight. I don’t know why but it seems to me more than a coincidence, how do both of them mention the same thing in the same night. I do not intend to bore myself with my incompetent critical thinking, so I just note it down on a piece of paper besides Anna’s bed. There were a lot of thoughts going in my head, but I slept almost instantly after lying down.

II.

It was a long but dreary night. Traces of tranquility—rainfall I mean, were rocking down the near glass pane behind. I feel I am acquainted to the pleasure of rainfall as plants do, despite it’s inviting melancholy and drowsiness, the change in landscapes ignite a different reserved self in me. The imprisoned escort who is joyful and abject to social tendencies. I like how everyone runs towards the shelters in the rain, it makes getting soaked a lot easier and better. I think I might’ve turned 17 this morning.

My phone was about to fall off the bed with all that buzzing, I know it’s probably either Anna concerned about me trapped in her precious room or mom ringing to remind of school. Personally, I’d like to not answer, but the weather is a lot finer than I’d expect. It’s definitely worth a walk, even if it’s to school.

07:23, 3 missed calls by Bananna Zamzanna.

Yeah, that’s her name on my phone, I am always 16 on my phone, no matter how much I philosophize.

I think maybe mom hasn’t yet screamed at me because she might be still upstairs. I might’ve to get ready for school but I’m definitely concerned about her. Ever since dad’s death last year, she has not shown any signs of being normal. What even is called normal, I don’t know anymore, but that’s surely what the doctors say. I would call Anna abnormal-wait that’s a really dope contact name, but I mean the things she does are definitely incomprehensible as heaven. Heaven as the pretentious books describe, personally, I would consider the weather before a heavy thunderstorm as heaven if I had written any of them. Today is heaven day. I think we’d be a lot happier if we perceived heaven as an ephemeral refuge to explore solitude, but I’m not as influential as I think so I’d drop the plan as a hypothesis.

Whatever may be going on outside, I’m more contemplative about mom’s health for the moment. When dad was in his ending passage of life, the high amounts of stress and sleep deprivation has served her with a lot of irrefutable damage. Though stress isn’t precisely correlated to High blood pressure, I remember that sleep deprivation surely is. The real thing, the big bad monster, is the Coronary artery disease, it makes her highly vulnerable to a gruesome heart attack. I always try to keep my voice and secrets down and under to avoid flushing anger and risky risk, if that’s even a phrase.

After I just crammed my school bag with whatever that was on the table, I see mom walking down towards the kitchen. She looks a lot pale than usual and I guess she hasn’t slept well either.

“Good morning mom, did you have a sound sleep last night, how’s your breath?”

“I don’t know what to say Jimmy, I’m glad you didn’t argue a lot last night because I had a lot of trouble sleeping. I don’t know why but there’s this looming paranoia which is very vivid in every dream I have. I was almost dragged and preyed by a menacing bear last night, it was horrific and I couldn’t sleep much… anyway, are you walking to school today?”

“Yes yes, the weather is nice and I’d like to inhale a few droplets as I pass by, don’t worry I’ll carry my raincoat.”

“I don’t think it’s a nice sky Jim, it reminds me of your father… well, enough chatter for the morning, I think you should leave, goodbye dear.”

“Mom, if you keep thinking about what is bad, how would you cont-“

“I’m sorry Jimmy, I think I should’ve not interrupted your dismissal with this fact, I don’t know what to do with this grief most of the time.” Mom says while holding my hand.

“It will get better mom, it definitely will.” I drop her hands and bid her a goodbye with the sound of my umbrella clicking down.

The walk to school is usually a 10-minute-long stream of regret, but today’s a lot different. I would stretch the time period to fifteen to enjoy the aestheticism of the grey.

The clouds are long and I am too,
The doom is fair and I am too
I shall walk under the blobs—
Prying on the day, because
The sun is gone and I am too

I don’t know what that set of lines mean, it’s something that just arrived into my mind witnessing my whereabouts. I am sometimes so exuberant of the dark weather that I start doing things I’d never imagine to do. Like poetry—gosh I hate poetry. Most of them don’t even make sense, it’s either too simple to be understood by a snail or as complex as Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s magical realism-I don’t know how he does it, but even when it’s so complex, it’s easily visualizable. I know that’s a skill I’d never get close too and comparing indecipherable poetry to him is a crime, but I guess that explains how I’d never clearly understood either of the two.

In the end, my walk turned out to be both longer and shorter as I had imagined, because it was mostly praise and random correlations and I’d elapsed more than twenty minutes walking a ten-minute stride. Of course the advantage is somewhat mine, as most of our teachers would be late in their commute too, thanks to the skies. I walk up to my class on the third floor and company myself with the huge glass pane besides, romanticizing the weather as those corny love film protagonists do. I should be the last person to call something cliché, but that’s the fun--I do things for the sake of fun, sometimes without any moral or empirical lens. Maybe this regret may vanish itself without all this blatant tomfoolery.

Anyways, the classes start late because Mrs. Heide hadn’t made it in time. I feel this awfully weird that every morning class in a section must start with the same class teacher, I mean, can’t they just send other teachers rather than wasting time over a rule, it’s really stupid or whatever.

Even when she had arrived late, her face didn’t leak a single drop of anxiousness or carelessness. I wish to be as calm and composed as her in important matters.

“Okayyy, this is a little weird, but I’d like to tell you that as most of your teachers couldn’t arrive due to different and very obvious reasons, I’d like to take a single hour of your precious time and then call it a day. The weather department has issued an alert for a violent thunderstorm, so I’d want all of you to go back home as soon as this get over.” Mrs. Heide has this peculiar sense of elegance when she lets her speech out, it’s very charming and inspiring to watch.

This piece of information sends the whole section into a frenzy. I swear they can even get happy about a teacher getting murdered. Mrs. Heide calms the class down when someone from the front row asks her.

“But Mam, what’s this one-hour session about?”

“Oh! It’s nothing to be that curious about. However, it’s also very important to know and will definitely help you ahead in your life. Our class is going to be a practical toolkit for saving someone’s life through first-aid and the basics of CPR, the medical instructor appointed by the school had already arrived before I did, hence the trouble. Also, I’d want you all to be attentive and respectful as he has travelled really far for this. I’d like you call to cooperate and listen, so we can all leave as soon as possible.”

The instructor arrived a few minutes later with a torso-head mannequin and a box of first-aid. He greeted us all and started explaining in his mechanical tone the importance of different medical procedures.

“I suspect that you all might be familiar with the concept of the Golden hour. If not, let me elaborate: The Golden hour is the time period of the first critical sixty minutes where the loss of life and a traumatic injury can be either prevented or dampened to a great extent. This time is extremely valuable to the likeliness o—“.

His robotic tone made me a lot sicker than any sunny day ever could. I think he lacks any sense of humanity in his speech. He has probably iterated and performed this speech a million times by now. I averted my attention towards the raging thunderstorm outside. There was no sign of any refuge from the rampage that is about to occur, and the clouds had buzzed for long. There’s a high bass murmur in the sky of an enormous distant thunder and the downpour has started increasing exponentially. In a few moments, there would be no visibility beyond the wrath. Either I’m a sadist or insane, but anyway, it doesn’t matter as long as it’s grey.

Something dragged my attention back to the class, not because I was interested in listening to the instructor’s monotonous speech, I was rather intrigued by the way he held the mannequin down, he was pressing on the temples of it. I know that’s weird because CPR involves the chest, so I started to listen what he had to say.

“As I’ve said, applying pressure here, is of no use, in most given circumstances. So, nobody shall touch the patient’s eyebrow and also their own eyebrow, because a heart attack involves the heart, not an eyebrow!!”

“What the fuck does CPR has to do with an eyebrow!!” I screamed instantly sending the whole class quiet.

The instructor and Mrs. Heide looked at each other in confusion. After, trying to comprehend my anger the instructor spoke again.

“I think you are misinterpreting my intention. Before I started with CPR, I was explaining how injuries to the temples and cranium can be brutal to the eye-sockets and I was referencing to that to not make the instruction boring. That is why, I’d mentioned the eyebrow so precisely.”

“Jimmy, are you alright?” Mrs. Heide asks in a concerning tone.

“Yes Mam, I-I was thinking of something else…Also sir, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s alright young man, I think you should rest a bit after this.”

The instructor spoke for a couple of minutes afterwards and then we were all allowed to leave. I don’t know if I’ve either developed anxiety towards the word eyebrow or too the action of touching it. I really can’t make sense of anything that is happening since yesterday, maybe it’s all my fault that mom has to be so full of grief.

As I was walking past the corridor, I hear someone calling my name.

“Jimmy!!—There you are. What happened in the class earlier, is everything alright at home?” Mrs. Heide stood beside me and expressed concern in her sweet voice.

“Yes, Mam, I mean No—I mean mom is a lot worse than usual from yesterday and she scolded me for merely just brazing my eyebrow. I don’t know why this word ‘eyebrow’ is following me everywhere. It is just so anxiety inducing and it doesn’t even make sense, maybe I am thinking too much but it has to do something with mom, I am really concerned for her and I think my actions might be worsening her condition.”

“I think you should spend more time with her, she might be paranoid about you because she thinks you still aren’t self-sufficient enough. Maybe she doesn’t want you to be burdened with her care and worry. You should definitely try talking something positive to her, or just sit with her to listen what she has to say. It may not soothe her grief completely, but it’s definitely worth a try. Also, what about your sister, how’s she?”

“Anna is alright Mam, but just a little more reckless than the last time you saw her. And yes, I will definitely try talking through mom’s worry of me, now I shall leave because the weather is getting worse.”

“Oh! You definitely should, give Anna and your mom my regards, goodbye!”

I bid Mrs. Heide my goodbye and start walking towards home. Judging by the signs, I must reach home in under five minutes to be completely safe from the thunderstorm. There wasn’t a prediction but I think there would be a lot of hailstones roaring down in just a few moments.

III.

It was as ruthless as I’d thought, before I could gather more sense, the droplets turned into a white massacre. I’d been hit by hailstones before but being clambered in a perpetual anxiousness was a new high, or maybe low. I’d just made home in time before getting slain. Time’s a relative effort of avoiding a couple of steps and paces-okay, so a hailstone has definitely hit my head.

Anna was already reading on the sofa by the time I’d arrived and she glanced at the door to witness the newcomer. I couldn’t figure out what was she holding and to be honest, I’m not interested either.

“Why so early, Jimmy, shouldn’t you be in school?”

“By the likes of it, you should be in an asylum, and what are you even doing at home in the morning, shouldn’t you have left for that boring internship of yours?”

“Yeah, I should’ve been there, the weather just ruined the mood and the day was dismissed.”

“I’d never thought I’d say this, but yeah, I relate to you—a bit maybe. Also, what is mom up to, did she go to sleep again?”

“I don’t know Jim, she has been acting a lot weird ever since I’ve arrived. I think it might be the time to shift her into a better medical care. Either, the home’s too nauseating or too conscious for her to live.”

“I’d never thought about that, maybe she does need more professional help.”

The stairs were a little with slippers and raindrops, I think mom might’ve wandered outside for a bit trying to capture the immensity. She is rather self-reserved about her preferences but I know for sure she still likes the rain a lot. I walked upstairs with the most precaution and opened the door of her room. Mom sat curling her knees to her chin, facing towards the window, it felt like perhaps she was waiting for me.

“Oh dear Jimmy!! Come here, have a seat!” I was surprised to see her in a different mood than I’d expected.

“How do you feel mom, are you enjoying the weather?”

“Jimmy, I’d like to say this to you, I’m extremely sorry about my remark about the rains. With my tone, it would’ve struck to you as I hate these clouds for reminding me about a dead man, but I have something to say to you about this weather.” She adjusts her tone and draws her hands outwards while seating herself in an erect posture to narrate further.

“I was twenty-six when I’d met your father and forty-six when he left me, you would be thinking what does it have to do with the rain, but it does!! Every year, with the first downpours arriving either late or on time, I’d remember Evan would take me to the rural provinces for a quest. Although, it only lasted a few hours, the joy wasn’t in the pursuit of satisfaction in a transitory weather, it was actually him speaking to me with the utmost clarity and importance. The rain changed him, it made him more reflective, merry and loving. I think the grief will always be there, and substituting forlorn memories for the drastic present may change nothing, but I do believe in possibilities. It’s possible he is witnessing the same storm from above, simultaneously as I do, perhaps I’d exchanged glances with him without knowing by staring into the grey abyss. The possibility of heaven is dire and repetitive, and I’d like to entrust my love to an abstract and arbitrary belief than a robust one. To say he’s dead is a fact, but to say he’s still watching me somewhere is a stamp of love, and I’d never want it to be a faint and dismissive one.”

“This is the most I’ve heard you say about dad in a while. I mean your thoughts are more precise than before, but I am glad to hear all of this mom, and you shouldn’t be that worried about me or Anna or even your health.”

“Time is funny Jim, I’d never thought that I would even think something like this. After a point, you have to befriend your grief to live.”

“That is definitely true, I also think a lot about dad but that is definitely different from you. Most of my memories are just false perceptions and summer treasure hunts. I believe he was a good and ordinary man, and that is what makes him special. I don’t know why, but I think that all these people are too dear to God if he exists, he always tends to destroy their existence for his needs. What a selfish bastard.”

“It makes me laugh Jimmy, I always thought I’d get closer to God after meeting him. But things usually don’t work out as plainly as I think, I feel that’s the case for all of my ambiguity.” Mom sparked a bright smile as she said this and it made a lot happier and relieved.

“I feel like the weather is starting to become a lot more explorable in a few moments, should we go for a walk in a bit? It’s been a while mom, just you, me and that creature downstairs.”

“Stop calling your sister that!” and she starts laughing in her unique clumsy tone, “Yes, I feel we all should go, but before that I think you might need to change your clothes.”

“Yes, I’ll arrive in a bit, you should go downstairs and wait, I’ll be there.”

Mom walked past the door grabbing her umbrella on the go, and before going to the bathroom I stared into the wall frame depicting Dad and Mom in their trip to a place whose name I can’t pronounce.

“Evan and Patricia, forever entangled”

I think the separation adds to its beauty, or maybe I’m just becoming drained in sadistic tendencies. The frame did stand the test of time and so did the words beneath.

The bathroom was very chilly due to the ceramic tiles and winds. It was easy averting my gaze from the face that I’d blamed it all on, but I deliberately stared back to tell him that everything is fine. He shouldn’t worry about people pointing to his eyebrow or maybe shouldn’t worry at all.

“Jimmy!! How much time!!” Anna screamed in her shrill tone.

“Shut up, I’m almost there!” I scream back and close the bathroom door.

I’d never known walking downstairs could be so much fun, but they are today, and I couldn’t be more calm.

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• Cover art by ridima

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