Cinia Pacifica Posts

For the first time—when I entered the room—I chanced a glance upon her. The once cherished jewel was now laid atop a bed.

I almost pitied her. Her room was hardly comparable to the level of lavish luxury my father could afford. I smiled—feeling triumphant— she got her just desserts.

The lady seemingly eyed me with curiosity. Momentarily, her gaze turned sharp—or rather, fierce—like when a lioness would hunt its prey. However, what graced me was a brilliant smile befitting of a picturesque portrait. This famous quality of her’s had won the hearts of many.

Was I imagining things?

My shoulders stiffened, and I held my breath for a moment—spellbound.

…As expected of her, I thought.

What my vision found prominent was her pristine, fine statue-like figure—her beautiful, pellucid wonder of a face—and her wavy golden blonde hair that could reach down to her hips, regally crowning her top. This was the elegant femme fatale who had been a popular subject among many.

I’d be overjoyed if this was the old me. Now? I could only give a sour look.

I looked down to her generously endowed bosom—and her perfect proportions—with disdain. Would I grow up to be just as blessed… ?

Overcome with concern, I believed my face would reflect my emotions. This was a time I considered most inauspicious to show such an expression before someone as respectable as her. Desperate, I attempted to cleanse my mind of thoughts, in order to present my facial aspects with more dignity.

…A poor performance of self-control; I could instantly rate myself the worst score for a lack of effort had I carried a mirror to peek at.

“Well? What good would you do standing there like a sculpture? Come here, young lady.”

The woman pulled herself up subsequently, and straightened her back.

Speak for yourself, would you? The words slipped past my tongue, almost. Indeed, that description was quite ironic.

Navigating—I strolled over to the other side of the room—to find myself before a chair. I could simply be seated beside her, but I chose to hoist it all the way to the bed’s flank instead; I wouldn’t suffer to be any closer.

“Good evening. Please pardon my rudeness. I’ve been feeling… a little tired recently.”

Embarrassed due to my pathetic excuse, I pondered if my cheeks were flushed with a shade of crimson full of shame. It was too late to take back my words, unfortunately.

“Is that so? You don’t look tired to me.”

Duh! Again, I almost quipped. “Well, I… ”

I looked down and hastily attempted to rectify myself.

“You were embarrassed since you made an excuse you found inappropriate?”

“Huh… ?!” Dear Lord, this person. As one could guess—my mouth was agape—I was speechless. It took me some seconds to recover. “No need to remark so brazenly about it.”

I retorted barely—using words I usually wouldn’t—and attempted to appear composed. Alas, my expression was rigid.

The erudite lady chuckled mirthfully to this sight.

“Did that help with your nervousness?”

“ …I suppose it did.”

“So, what did you wanted to talk about?”

“Pardon? That’d be my question, Mrs. Hailey.”

“Oh dear, I was certain that you’d have chanced to speak with me at least once, hence the invitation was sent.”

“I don't mean to be rude, but I honestly don’t have anything to say.”

“Then allow me to begin: for what purpose do you live?”

You’d start with something heavy just like that?! I cleared my throat before answering, “You know as well as I do about my career.”

No more could I meet her pair of dazzling azure eyes and speak with confidence and vigor. It felt as though she could see right through me.

“That doesn’t answer the question, young lady.”

“I really don’t have an answer, though.”

I always took on the words of my role-model, after all. I regret it even tonight.

“That’s fine, you are still growing.”

Growing, huh… ? How very acrimonious for a comment. I looked down at my underdeveloped self. My contempt—or should I say jealousy?—was returning to me. “Say, Mrs. Hailey, how’d you answer the question you just made?”

It seemed like the fabled woman—who I once admired—took the liberty to contemplate. It took her less than five seconds to gather her thoughts.

“I suppose I live to sate my desires.”

“ …Really? Really? That’s it?”

What kind of a statement was that? I didn’t expect it. Her admittance to greed was far too straight-forward. It sounded a little too simple for an adult like her.

“Isn’t it natural? Why else do you think we live?”

“I thought it’d be related to your career, Mrs. Hailey. Please pardon me for my assumption.”

“You’re not wrong. I did enjoy my career.”

“But you claimed to the press that you were stressed and tired of your work.”

“Ahaha! Yes, I did overwork myself. You see… I’ve always wanted to spread my wings and do everything I wanted to in my life.”

“So you left behind your responsibilities to tire yourself out and live the dream? Why would you do that?”

The media claimed that none of her family members ever interacted with her. She herself publicly confirmed this in an interview. That was how she set herself apart from others—placing herself over a pedestal. Most people with a career like her’s would use “professionalism” as a shield for safety.

Perchance she founded an excuse to relish her very professionalism?

“Have you heard of the Analogy of the Sun before?”

“A little.”

“I wanted to be the †˜child of goodness.’”

“The… †˜sun?’”

“Yes, the †˜sun.’ I wanted to be the light to guide the senses—or rather, the minds of the individuals. Particularly, my guidance would extend to those who are yet young and inexperienced like you. In essence, my wish was perfection for the audience.”

I feigned ignorance, but it made sense the more she elaborated. Whenever I watched her performances, it sometimes felt as though she was looking afar, as if there was an unsurmountable wall that she’d soon attempt to scale.

She was ready for a challenge, always.

“What made you want to be the †˜sun?’”

“Inspirations. My seniors’ works. The world around me in general. Perhaps one day you’ll understand.”

“No offense to you, Mrs. Hailey, but I wouldn’t want to be like you.”

“That is absolutely fine.”

“Didn’t you wanted to be the †˜sun’ though? Wouldn’t you want people to aspire to be like you?”

“Not necessarily so, young lady.”

“Would you please stop calling me that?”

Ignoring my question, Mrs. Hailey continued, “It matters not whether a person wants to be like me. The audience may take what they want from what gets displayed. The enlightenment would vary based on individual perceptions. This regards people wanting to learn from me, of course. Otherwise, entertainment is simply entertainment.”

“But the whole reason you just explained… ”

“I just wanted to regale, really. Regarding the †˜sun,’ for instance, the experiences of viewing my performances… ”

“Let me guess what you’ll bring up: empiricism?” I questioned most sardonically.

“Maybe? Maybe not?”

“Which one is it?!”

I snapped, knitting my brows to form a frown. My mood was evident.

“Clearly, that is boring.”

She is an enigma… I concluded.

I heaved a sigh while Mrs. Hailey proceeded to burst into a fit of unabated laughter after blinking several times at my agitated response. Her thought process was extremely complicated for me to comprehend in its entirety.

I need stay calm. My temper flared—barely under its leash.

I took a deep breath, which—incidentally—was an advise I read in one of Mrs. Hailey’s interviews.

“Well, I’ve made my answer, sweetheart. It’s your turn now,” Mrs. Hailey said, gesturing towards me. Her smile appeared to me as full of condescension before she giggled. “I’m guessing you were considering your answer. You’re just like your father.”

“ …What is there to say? That I’ve always looked up to you? That I’ve aspired to be an actress like you? That I’ve lost my way?!” my voice quivered violently, and I was fidgeting with unbridled rancor. “Why… why now? After all these years, I was to believe that you are my supposed deceased mother?”

One could say that Mrs. Hailey had opened a can of worms—no, more like expired rations. That’s how long my despicable feelings laid dormant deep within my heart.

All my time was spent on her films; dances, songs, interviews; and even the philosophical concepts she’d seldom discuss. Then, out of the blue I was told that my mother was alive and hale—ignored me—and went on with her own business like I was unrelated—like I was nothing to her.

I was fine with it—I really believed I was—yet why were tears rolling past my cheeks? Like mother like daughter, as one would say; I was as selfish as her. I wanted her to give up on everything just to be with me. I was being a big baby—someone who wanted attention. Is that why I wanted to be an actress?

How would she know about these festering feelings of mine while she was busy indulging her fame?

At some point, I was under the embrace of my frail mother—wetting her white gown—weeping like a child. This pleasing feeling of being gently stroked on my blonde hair reminded me of my father.

“I’m sorry, you must’ve been very lonely.”

Don’t apologize to me. Not now.

“I’ve lived to be an actress like you, mother. There is no other answer,” I confessed.

“My mistake, perhaps you weren’t so lonely after all.”

You were my “sun” after all.

“ …Which one is it?”

“I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

I’d vehemently point out her capriciousness, but not now.

“Will you spend more time with me if I do that?”

Her lips stretched wide to smile, before wiping my tears and planting a kiss on my forehead. Did she just… gave her consent?

“You don’t need to be like me.” For the first time, her voice was full of grief and sorrow. “You’d never reach your goal.”

We parted, and the pangs of dismay grasped my heart once more. If only time had stopped for all of eternity then and there.

“What’d want me to do?”

“Spread your wings, my dear Lucy. It’s your life—it’s your path. In this industry—they seek you from you, not me. You’ll find your answer eventually.”

“Mother…”

I felt an indescribable ecstasy, for she had uttered my name for the very first time.

“Wisdom is not equivalent to one’s age—it is an amalgamation of experience. You cannot replicate it. So, promise me that you’ll face your challenges head-on without trying to be like me.”

“I shall, mother. I promise.”

“Good girl,” Mrs. Hailey said. Subsequently, she laid back down. “Now, I’m sure you’re tired from work, so I shall bid you farewell.”

“ …Will you spend more time with me if I do as you say?”

“I’ll always be with you, Lucy.”

“Then I’ll forgive you, mother.”

“Thank you.”

Unfettered from my despairs, my heart was rejuvenated. I nodded, cupping the air atop my chest.

My resolve was made. I’d become a great actress. I wouldn’t tolerate to be overshadowed by my peers or my parent. One day, she’d be proud of me as I break out of my cage. Thus, I acquiesced.

Giving the device beside her bed a glance, I wondered how she could bare to live in this noisy room. I suppose sleep was indeed a luxury.

“Good night. I’ll be back.”

For the first time, my voice was not full of grief and sorrow.

I heard a murmur when exiting the room.

“Please forgive me.”

Forever shall I refer to her as a stout woman unbound by logic and rationality. Someone who performed as if merely breathing.

The beeping noise from the device became continuous.

Shocked, I rushed back… but was too late. I cried like a child yet again.

The enigmatic lady—on this Christmas Eve—departed from the material realm.