The Beginning

An original story, a moment of realisation. Enjoy.

-Love, Joyce.

Of Love For Dolls And Wonder Cream

It was a morning like any other morning, Juliana rolled up on her feet when bright beams of warm light crept through the gaps between the curtained windows. Her bedroom was finely furnished with rich-textured wallpapers which created a slight hue of pink, plastered ceilings with detailed Roman carvings of archangels from the medieval age, and a crystal-decorated chandelier which sent out a ray of seven colours forming a spectrum at the centre of the space. She put her left foot down on the cold marble floor, and then danced gracefully to the miniature house made for twenty-nine dolls from the Princesses of The Sphere Collection at the right corner of the room. Juliana greeted each one with a pleasant smile, calling out their names one by one. She needed the thirtieth, Princess of Eastern China, to complete this collection. Still floating in her white nightgown, she headed out to find breakfast. Juliana was living a dream of materials and extravagance, almost to fit the royal blood.

Nutella’s hazelnut and chocolate cream on slices of perfect toast, she thought. Juliana’s stomach gave a disgruntled noise, obviously craving for food. As she walked along the wide passageway leading to the grand dining hall, Juliana stopped abruptly when she saw a lady dressed in formal white uniform coming out from one of the rooms. Her heart skipped a beat as she scanned the face, looking out for a positive expression.

“How is he today?” Juliana questioned with an unsteady quiver in her voice.

The family nurse looked up, gave Juliana a solemn look and moved on to the next room where all the medical equipments and drugs were kept. Juliana nodded to herself, pictured his condition in her head and proceeded to the kitchen to make a meal. What had she wanted to make? Yes, scrumptious Nutella’s hazelnut and chocolate cream on hot toast. She scoured the refrigerator for ingredients, but her eyes were empty, she was losing her mind. The cooling breeze continued to whirl around her face as she stared blankly at the jar of Nutella’s wonder cream on the first rack. Memories rushed in, and Juliana’s eyes were now filled with much grief and sorrow.

She lost her mother on her second birthday. Juliana has no recollection of meeting the person who gave her Life, this beautiful Life, but she knew the man who loved this soul well. Juliana’s father was strong, and he taught his daughter all about strength since the first day she learnt her ABC’s. He told her not to cry, tears were signs of weaknesses, he said. He reminded her that exposing the fragility of our hearts can cause grave danger. However, one night when little Juliana crept into his room to demand for a brief bedtime story, she was in a profound shock to find him so weary and breakable. She swore that she could have seen the deep tracks on his face made by the tears which flowed endlessly if she looked close enough. Yes, it cut him that terribly. Then, she learnt that the pain of losing someone can be brutal. He definitely missed his wife, but he loved their daughter just as much.

Everyday, he would tell her, “I love you, my little Juliana.” She would smile.

She took out the jar of Nutella’s hazelnut and chocolate cream, shut the refrigerator door, but did not make her marvel sandwich. Then, she took her plastic Powerpuff Girls’ spoon with her. It was her first freebie given by the Buttercup mascot at a cartoon carnival she visited long time ago. Not her best cutlery, but she liked it anyway. Heading towards his room, she felt nervous, but she needed to talk to him today. Juliana knocked on the door softly, already knowing that no one would answer. She went in quietly, eyes fixed on the motionless body lying in bed. She sat on the crimson red cushioned chair next to him, and then opened the jar of hazelnut and chocolate cream. Slowly, she scooped out a spoonful of her favourite sauce and took a mouthful as streams of pained emotions flooded down her cheeks. The salty flavour of human tears complimented the sweet taste of hazelnut

and chocolate. She trembled as she spoke.

“What happened to happy endings? And they lived happily ever after? Were you telling me lies all this while, Papa? These nine years? But you said it was a crime to lie. You said it yourself.”

He taught her how to swim in the blue sea at the age of three, teaching her about survival and living. He baked coloured sugar-coated cupcakes with her after watching the Martha Stewart show one Saturday, though the icings they crafted were obviously an amateur’s work. He bought Juliana her first puppy, went on Google to search and decide on a perfect dog’s name after she insisted, and cried with her when it died. He brought her to the beauty parlour to get her ears pierced at the age of six. He was the coolest dad in her Universe. He even allowed her to eat their special wonder cream straight from the jar, and it became a habit since that day on. He also started the doll collection for her, bringing one home from every business trip he made. He taught her how to ride a bicycle, and could only laugh out loud when she hurt herself carelessly. She learnt that it is alright to fall flat on her nose, just as long as she could stand up again, despite broken bones. He was unlike any father. He taught her good manners, showed her compassion, and he explained to her about people and their unique behaviours. Juliana’s father told her everything he knew about Life. He cared for her as if she was his most treasured possession. However, what she didn’t know was that she really was: his only and most treasured possession.

“Papa, papa! Do you promise to always, and I mean always always always love me?”

“Yes, Juliana. I promise to always always always love you.”

“And to be by my side for ever and ever and ever and we could both live happily ever after? Together with Princess of Western Europe and Royal Dolly too of course. What about hazelnut and chocolate cream every breakfast? It’s the most important meal of the day, you know.”

“Don’t ask things you already know, sweetheart.”

So, why must all of this happen? He had been unconscious for sixteen weeks. Juliana’s mind was clouded with confusion, perplexed by the sounds from the pacemaker machine. She was so angry, she was furious. She was losing hope.

“Please wake up, my Papa. You know that I need you, you realize that I would shatter into a million pieces if you leave me. You lost Mama before, surely you are aware that the wound would never recover. You are a man, you are my father, and you were strong enough to live. But I am just a child, I am your daughter. Could you bear to see me finish this race of Life all on my own, alone? I understand what you tell me about independence, I paid close attention to all of your lessons. But this is not the time, Papa. I know that you can hear me. Stay with me, I beg you, please.” Juliana was on both her knees.

“I love you,” she whispered.

One thing that little girls like Juliana didn’t know was that grown-ups like her Papa could hear every word their precious ones said, despite being in this condition. He was always there to listen. Always had been and always will. But, at that very moment, it was a struggle for him to speak; he was already having difficulty to move even at all. His limbs were useless. His eyes felt glued. His tongue betrayed his trust. Although paralyzed by his own system, he finally decided to communicate to her through his mind. He believed that she would be able to receive his last message, it was a connection that all fathers and daughters had. It was a secret most people forget.

‘Juliana, my little Juliana. Do hear your poor Papa.’

‘Will you be alright when I’m gone? Yes, I know that you will be. And you know that too, but please stop trying too hard not to believe. When you were born, your mother and I knew from the first glance that you were our sweet success. No words can explain the joy you bring into our world, you were the reason your mother left in peace. This is something I’ve never told you before; this is my last piece of pride.

Before your mother drew her last breath, she was anxious about my well-being. She knew too well that I would never survive, at least not without her. But during then I was embracing you in my arms, seeking comfort and support as I held your fragile frame. I cried and cried, because I was lost. I was too weak to bear the pain. I was a coward. Your mother’s eyes met yours and she turned to smile at me. I remember that smile, Juliana. She knew too well again that you would be my savior. You would keep me going.’

“Papa, please. I’m begging you. Do not leave me, not like this,” she cried and cried, because she was lost. It was just like he did before.

“I love you, I love you, I love you! Please wake up!” She was repeating herself. She was breaking.

She wanted to die.

‘Juliana, my child. Your mother and I would meet again, it is good news. We would be watching you; we would let no harm get in your way. Our love for you will keep you safe. Believe in us, my dear. You were always the stronger one. It is time now.’

It was then, she heard an almost silent croak, “I love you too, my little Juliana.”

xxx