Fallen Leaf. Part 1.

Ferona: The beginning. 

Location : Indonesian Independence Day Potluck in the Park. 

My plate was almost full, but I had my eye on a piece of plump, curry beef in a pan in the middle of the potluck table. I reached for the serving spoon, as he was reaching for the same spoon. Our hands collided. 

     “Sorry….,” I said. 

     “Sorry….,” he said.

     Our eyes met. I found  a pair of eyes belonging to a cowboy out of his time; lost and very much alone. It caused my heart to  beat like a tight guitar  string plucked by a wannabe musician ; out of tune and almost snapped into two. 

    “You first…,”he said. His smile was as uneven as my heart beat. 

     Huh…uuhh…I couldn't think. The next moment a piece of plump curry beef was placed on my plate. 

     “ Is that okay?” he asked.

     I nodded. He smiled his uneven smile. My heart and mind became muddled to no end. 

Fallen Leaf. Prologue.

The season changes. From winter time when everything seems barren and cold to the touch, to spring where the root of the young, once again claims the earth. Followed by summer where green become the favorite color and the sky is blue enough for you to drop your dreams in it and let it swim freely. Then autumn comes, where the sky becomes slightly gray and leaves fall under the spell of the wind, helplessly navigating the space between earth and sky, fully knowing they will  never become green and alive again. This is my story of such leaf.  

Let have fun with Jackfruit.

Jackfruit. 

What is jackfruit? It is a fruit, for sure. In fact, when I asked Google (my close, at-my-fingertips friend), its says : jackfruit is the biggest tree-borne fruit in the world. It can weight up to 80 lbs, but the average weight is around 30 to 40 lbs. 

Why ‘Jackfruit’? Why not ‘Johnfruit’, ‘Jamesfruit’ , ‘Mikefruit’ or some other name attached to fruit? Was the name Jack more popular than any other name back then? Was the fruit named  after the person who identified then recorded its existence? 

Even though in later years, someone suggested the name was to honor William Jack, a Scottish botanist who did lots of work in India and other Asian countries, according to my friend Google the name Jack actually originated from Portuguese word ‘jaca’ which is rooted to the word ‘chaka’ of Malayalam language. ( Malayalam is one language in India). And as with every other name, this one also have a modern twist to it. 

The word  ‘chaka’ according to the urban dictionary, refers to, some particularly bad-ass dude in Mexico’s Northern province. Bad-ass, meaning: young male toting multiple weapons, driving a luxury SUV and wearing expensive clothes. A bad-ass name for  the largest tree-borne fruit in the world….I’m starting to see some attitude here….

“Hi, my name is Jack. Jack Fruit. The largest fruit in the world. Now, don't shake my Martini. Otherwise........” Then various weapon pops up by Jackfruit's side. Pictures of the unusual mixed of James Bond and The Mask's rendition of Dirty Harry. 

Here in North America, long ago, jackfruit was only sold in a can. Heavily processed in sweetened syrup, it lost most of its natural flavor and texture. But nowadays jackfruit is sold in stores  in many ways : Canned, frozen, candied, baked chips, or simply whole fresh jackfruit. 

Even though jackfruit originated from Asia, the fresh jackfruit sold in North America’s stores are mostly imported from Brazil. A while back, I had the chance to shop in one of those markets. They sold either the whole jackfruit or a precut one. I purchased the precut one. I prefer the precut one for few reasons :

- With a precut jackfruit you can see the ratio of the edible parts of the fruit ( the healthy yellow color) , versus the part that are going straight to the waste basket ( the stringy one in very pale yellow color). 

- The precut one is also sold without the inedible, heavy, spongy core of the fruit. Since jackfruit is sold by the pound, it make sense if we only pay for the usable part of the fruit.

- Jackfruit discharges a sticky white sap when it split open. The white sticky sap is mostly found when the meat of the fruit is  separated from its core. The fresh sap is very sticky, but when you let it rest, the sap hardens a bit and becomes less sticky. Thus, the precut one have a more manageable sticky sap. 

The edible part of jackfruit is the meaty, yellow flesh, roughly the size of a large egg, with seed in its  center, embedded to the inside of the thick skin of the fruit. To  extract it, you simply dug your fingers around it then pull it free. Using your thumb or forefinger, slit open the fruit then retract the seed. The seed itself enclosed in a thin, but strong, yellowish pouch. Once you free the seed from its protected pouch, it looks very similar to Brazil nut. To eat the seeds, you must cook them first, either by boiling them in hot water or buried them in half dying burnt charcoal until they soften. They taste good either way. 

What do you do with the wasted part of the jackfruit? Some people will hung them to dry. Once they are dry or almost dry, they can be use as insects repellent by burning them. The smoke they emit chased away most flying insects. 

 

Then what do you do with the edible part of the jackfruit?

 Eat them, of course.

You can eat them raw as they are ( but, remember to wash them properly to get rid of any remnant of the white sap). Or you can cook  them with some sticky rice and sugar for dessert. Or dip them in batter then deep fried. Or cut them and stir them in with avocado and other fresh fruit as a fruit cocktail. Or put them in the blender with some ice and make a jackfruit shake. Either way you served them, fresh, deep fried, stirred or shaken, they are delicious and refreshing. 

       

Crossroads.

Crossroads

The cabbies honked loud

Pedestrians hurriedly crossed the road

Somewhere a baby cried

Somewhere a couple fought

But my world stood still

Like a boat without a sail

I saw you, someone by your side

Our time was eon gone

But your kiss felt like yesterday. 

Two hearts drawn on the bare ground

Millions stars in the sky

A ring with three blue stones 

Promises said

Love, on earth, in heaven 

And somewhere in between

The big house and a house on the wrong side of the track

No match for two young hearts

We were parted

Before we could say goodbye

And here we are at the crossroad

Someone by your side

Someone by my side 

Our worlds collides once more

Our hearts breaks twice more

‘Cause the promise we made

To someone by our side

Rain part 16

Rain 16. 

      Jack River. 

Jack stood by the open-door of his pick-up truck and took a better look at the diner in the front of him. What was it about this particular diner that called his name? He had never been in this diner or this town before, he was sure about that. Yet, when he and his crew had passed  the diner  on the way to the other side of the town where campground for the night was  located, the diner seemed to be calling his name. Like any other small-town diner he had been in, this diner have a regular brick exterior with a series  of glass windows wrapped around the   dining area. 

     Jack slowly closed the door to his pick-up truck which his crew called “the ancient one”. Yes, it was  old. It was the first truck he had purchased with his own money, but it ran smoother then its newer counterparts. He loves this truck. For the memories of the road they had shared together in the last two decades and for the convenience  it offered. Its has  a bench seat instead of separate captain seats like the newer model offered. Better suited when he took Panther, his fourteen years old,jet-black dog, for a ride.

      The diner was almost full. The hostess lead him to a small table for two next to the server’s station. Although he was basically an arm-length from their station, it took one of the young waitress more than ten minutes to come by to his table to take his order. Another ten minutes passed before she came back with his glass of Pepsi. By then, the diner had been filled to its full capacity. New patrons who had to wait for tables, formed a line from the diner’s  waiting-room all the way to the curb in the front of the door. Jack was thinking about canceling  his order to  join his crew for their dinner of grilled hotdogs at their campsite, but something held him to his seat. “ I’ll wait for few more minutes,” he told himself. Waiting for what? He didn't know. 

      Jack laughed to himself  and started to feel foolish. He thought about Noah the arch builder, the all-time, great-master carpenter. This was how he must have felt all those centuries ago when a voice called on him to built a giant boat and then load it with all sort of animals in pairs to survive the flood of a lifetime, all while not a single drop of rain had been falling  from the sky. Then Jack’s eyes caught a woman with waist-length blonde-hair entering the restaurant. Darlene? 

      The woman’s face was obscured by the blonde curls of the little girl she was carrying in her arms. Jack eyes followed her movement among the tables as she made her way to her seat. If she was ‘his’ Darlene,then that would explain his purpose to be in that diner at that very moment. Finally he would be able to make his apology to the bride he left at the altar twenty years ago. 

      “ Jack!! Get back, over there! Now!” Janine, his older sister by eight years, was pulling him away from his truck,  her face had turned red, her eyes popped, her breathing shallow. She was that mad. Well, she had the right to be. 

       Jack shook his head. “ I can't. “

      “ You can't? You won't? I don't give a damn.!” Janine begun to shout, “ The only thing I care about is you going  back out there and finishing this. Now!” 

       Only seconds after the justice of the peace they’d hired to officiate the ceremony had asked Jack if he would take Darlene, the girl he’d known since childhood, to be his wedded wife for better or for worse, without answering,  Jack had bolted from his spot next to his lovely bride, made the run across the grass from the park’s gazebo to  his truck in the park’s parking area. A good fifty-yard sprint. 

      Jack looked back at the gathering of people he had just left behind. They in return, were watching him anxiously. Jack shook his head for the second time. 

     “ I can't. She doesn't make my blood sing, “ Jack told  his sister with absolute resolved.

      Janine took a step toward him, her right hand raising from her side, flying toward his face like a bolt of lightning.  Jack didn't flinch. He knew he deserved the slap on his face from his sister and everyone who had wasted their Sunday to be there celebrating his wedding day. 

      But Janine didn't slap his face. She poked him hard, in the chest. “ You….You…..” Jack could see how his sister almost passed out from holding back her rage.

       Janine took a deep breath. 

      “ …..and you just think about this now? You had a whole year to think about this.” 

      Jack nodded his head. “ I thought when I saw her walking toward me in her wedding gown it was going to make it happen. But it didn't.” A lame explanation, but the truth. 

      His older sister, his only sibling,  who had been more of a mother to him than their own mother, shook her head in disbelief. “ When are you going to accept what grandpa told us about our Indian magic blood, is not actual magic. It’s not real. There isn't and won’t be anyone who is going to make our blood sing, Jack.” 

      “ Grandma did it to grandpa.”

      Janine sighed.  “ It was his story to make grandma feel special. There wasn't any magic. Even if there were such a magic, you won't carry it. Grandpa was only a quarter Indian, that makes us a sixteenth Indian. Do you understand what I am saying?” 

    “ Me an Indian, yes. Me stupid, no. Me can  count.” Jack quipped.. 

     “ Jack, you are NOT an Indian. But you are being stupid, YES!.” Janine almost screamed her frustration. 

    Sister and brother glared at each other. 

     “ I don't want to turn out like dad, become a drunk, from the emptiness of marrying someone who couldn't make his blood sing.” Jack finally said.

      Janine shook her head. She never realized until that moment, that her brother was dumber then a donkey. “Dad was a drunk, period. And like every other drunk, he made excuses,” she said.

      Jack shook his head again.”  You can say whatever you want Janine, but I will not marry Darlene today.” 

      “ Jack…..come to your senses, please…” 

      “ I already am, which is why I can't marry Darlene. She deserves a husband who loves her with all his heart,  instead of someone like me, who’ll keep looking for somebody else out there, for the one who is going to make my blood sing .”

      This is great, Janine thought. Her brother was not only dumber then a donkey, but more stubborn then a hard-headed bull, too. 

      “ Please tell our guests how sorry I am  for ruining their Sunday. They should  continue the BBQ party without me. I’ll visit Darlene later to apologized.” 

       But Darlene never gave Jack the chance. Not that day, not ever. Darlene shut Jack out of her life. 

     Jack’s eyes  followed the woman with the waist-length blonde hair with such intensity, he almost missed the presence of another blond-haired woman in her forties, entering the restaurant. 

     She stood patiently, waiting her turn to be notice by the hostess. Her white t-shirt and  plain blue-jeans didn't say much except , to an experienced eye like Jack’s, that they were expensive. But the way she wore them told Jack that she was a classic lady, in a class of her own. 

      The short sleeve of her white shirt had  a slight wrinkle as a result of wearing it too long in the same position. She was on a long drive. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was a little bit rumpled too. And there were a few lines etched around her eyes showing she was more tired than she let herself admit and she was as frustrated as the others drivers at having been rerouted to small back road from the familiar highway. But her quiet patience in waiting for her turn, her willingness to share a smile with the other patrons, as thought this was where exactly she wanted to be, made her, among the chaos of the busy diner, shine like an angel.

       When the hostess asked her how many people were in her party, the woman politely answered…..her voice gentle….

     Above the din of other dinners, her gentle, polite answer traveled  to Jack. It was a song like no other Jack ever heard. It made his blood sing…… 

      

                                                      THE   END. 

                      

                                        Thanks you for reading my story. 

Note: Story of Darlene in "Wedding Gift" coming soon. 

     

     

      

       

      

Rain part 15.

Rain 15.

Thomas Sutton had never been an outdoor person or a sportman. His reason was simple; he absolutely disdained the notion of displaying one’s sweat drenched body in public.  For the sake of healthy appearance during school and college years he did follow a few sport activities the school offered, but after that, leisure golf was the only sport he played. He kept himself in shape by doing weight lifting and running five miles a day on the treadmill indoor. But that day, when Anne, with the help of their housekeeper, was busy with the finishing touches to close the house in the end of summer, her husband had run into her in the front foyer of their summer home. Her husband’s dark blue jogging suit was drenched wet from the storm, which was still raging outside. 

     “ What happen?” she asked. She didn't know her husband had been outside, she thought Thomas was in his study. 

     “ I got caught in the rain,” her husband said. 

    Anne lifted her eyebrows. How did he got caught in the rain.? 

    “ I was jogging on the trail?” Thomas explained. That was odd, he never jogged the trail or anywhere outdoors. Thomas smiled. “Something was in my mind. I needed to clear it up.” Then he kissed his wife. 

     The sound of  a familiar ringtone to Anne’s ears filled the wide foyer. It rang once, twice, three times…from where their bodies almost touched, Anne could feel the vibration of a cell phone from one of the pockets in the jogging suit Thomas was wearing. 

    “ Tom?” Anne stepped back from her husband’s kiss.” Don't you need to answer that?” 

    Thomas looked a bit confused. What was she talking about? The phone rang again. Thomas still looked confused. 

   “ Tom, your phone. “ Anne reminded her husband. 

    Then, just then, Thomas realized, the phone ring came from  one of his jogging suit pockets. “ Oh, I’ll got it later,” he said with an apologetic smiled then walked away from his wife,” I need to get out from this clothes and shower first.” Thomas hurriedly disappeared into their bedroom leaving trail of rain water dripping from his jogging suit on the foyer floor and on the carpet in their bedroom. 

     Anne sighed. What had gotten into her husband? Thomas had always  been very meticulous about the state of their home. It must be something big to make him forget how his wet clothing going to make a mess of  the floor and the carpet, too. 

     She returned to her chores, placing some of the foyer decorations into a box, before going to the bedroom to collect her husband’s wet clothing. She need to dry them before she could pack them with the rest of dirty laundries. But she found the master bathroom door was locked, which was odd because  they never lock that door, ever. Anne was about to knock on the door when she heard that familiar ring tone again. It rang once, twice, three times…then she heard her husband’s voice talking to someone, yet the ring tone had chirped for the fourth times before  abruptly fell silence, it’s fifth ring  burbled. Through it all, Anne could hear her husband still talking. He hadn’t missed a beat talking to someone else….presumably on the phone. Thomas had two phones? Since when? 

      Anne remembered the remark her husband made about people carrying more than one phone on their person. “ They must not have secretary. “  

    Perhaps, her husband had changed his mind or his secretary had quit?

     Not until Jack’s memorial and the fact the police couldn't locate Jack’s cell phone, had Anne put the pieces together. 

     To solidify her suspicion, when they returned to their home state, she visited Thomas’s office and asked Thomas’s secretary to update and store every phone numbers where she could reach her husband into her cell phone. Then she immediately made calls to each numbers, including the phone Thomas was holding. None of the phone in Thomas’s office produced that particular ringtone she heard when Thomas returned from his jog that stormy afternoon. The ring tone sounded  familiar to her because it was. She heard it often enough when she was spending time with Jack. The ringtone didn't came from any of her husband’s phone, it was Jack’s. 

     Jogging outdoor had never been Thomas style. Doing so during a rain storm definitely doesn't fit Thomas’s character. But Thomas did it that particular afternoon, then returned with Jack’s phone in his pocket the same day Jack failed to catch his flight to California after dropping off Moose at the groomer. It could  only means one thing…..her husband, Thomas Sutton, Anne realized, …..had killed her Jack. 

     Jack’s phone was still missing. Whatever little evidence there  was that could link Thomas to the crime scene had been washed away permanently by the rain storm. It would be a case of she said, he said, a hard case to prosecute. Anne didn't need to be a lawyer to know that. Accusing Thomas as Jack’s murderer would only create a media circus that eventually hurts her children and deeply saddened her newly widowed father. Was that what she really wanted? She asked for divorce instead, which eventually landed her in the hospital,  instead of releasing her  from her husband. 

       After her complete recovery from the injury she suffered in the car accident, she went to Morgan Lake to open the house for the summer. She had taken a slow walk on the trail, stopping at the middle of the bridge, trying  to make sense of the senseless things that had happened few months ago. But couldn't found any. The only thing she found was a loose nail laying by one of the railing post. 

     That summer, she had lived in trance-like state. Thomas’s touch on her skin was like the Devils’s own. Another request for a divorce had landed her in a house that had almost blown up from a natural gas leak in her own kitchen. Anne didn't know what to do. 

     Another spring came and she did what she always had done every year since her marriage to Thomas, she went to Morgan Lake to ready their house for the coming summer. Another walk on the bridge produced another nail found on the ground  by the railing post. It was a different post from last year. 

     She took a better look on the railing.  Whoever had done the repairs on the railing had done a very sloppy job. Regular nails were used  instead of screws. The worse part was the way the wood which served as the three cross bars on  the railing, had been cut. The wood  had been cut in 90 degrees straight angle instead of the 45 degrees angles prohibiting the bars from overlapping each others. During her time spend chasing her Jack, Anne had learned a few tricks of the trade for working with wood, including how to assemble wood to ensure a safe structure.  The railing on the trail bridge wasn't safely assembled. If Jack was still alive, he would fix the darn thing as his first order of business.

     She used her body to push the top bar. It gave.

      The winters had shrunk the wood, then the summer expanded it. Eventually over time, the wood pushed the nails  loose from the wood itself. Jack had died falling  into that ravine two years before. She could pushed Thomas and let him fall into the ravine in the same manner Thomas pushed her Jack. But, Thomas had gotten away with his murder, she need to do the same. That was how Moose and her trick with the clicker came to her mind.

    Jack’s nephew had gotten a new puppy. He used the clicker to let the puppy know there was a treat coming his way whenever he clicked the clicker. Clicked the clicker once, the puppy ran looking for the treat, while Moose watched uninterested. Clicked the clicker twice, the puppy ran to look for the treat, but Moose crouched on her legs, flipped her upper lip to show every single one of her sharp teeth then growled. But that was it. She never bite or attacked anyone. In less than a minute she flopped back onto the floor and watched the crazy pup make his run looking for the treat. Jack told her about it.  He assumed his  new dog’s personality was too tame for her large size, so her previous owner had trained her to growl and crouch to add some pizzazz to the dog’s personality. 

    Anne bought a clicker and then retrained Moose to crouch and growl. The whole summer she did her twice daily walk on the trail, pushing the top bar of the railing looser with her body little bit at the time. Helping the nails find their way out. 

   With the Grahams staying in the city waiting for their first baby and Matt Meyer’s broken ankle, there was almost no possibility of endangering her neighbors.The Graham’s other neighbor, the Shaws, were at the same age as the Morgans. If they walked the trail, they would walked in the other direction.  

      Anne choose the Morgan’s  yearly BBQ as the only opportunity she was going to have to get  Thomas walked the trail. The storm almost ruin her plan. But in the end …..

*****

From behind her extra dark, large sunglasses, Anne watched the sheriff doing his job. Let him do what he must. Sheriff Duncan was a seasoned veteran in his job and a good person. Anne trusted him. If by some miracle they found out about her role in her husband’s death at the bottom of the ravine, so be it. She wouldn’t regret what she had done. 

      Her parents had gone, her Jack had gone. Her children had grown to adulthood and they could make a choice to forgive her or not. The only regret she might have had was not being able to hold her future grandchildren from behind the prison bars. Yet if she didn't do what she did, Thomas might successfully eliminate her. His third attempt to kill her,  could be his charm. How would she then able to hold her grandchildren from six feet under the ground ? 

      “ What I did to Thomas today, didn't changed me, Jack….because he changed me long ago. He didn't give  me any  choice, but to follow through. I hope you see that.”.

Rain 14

Rain 14

The two young deputies who were sent down to the bottom of the ravine to check on the identity and condition of the body laying there confirmed that the body was of Thomas Sutton and he was dead. The sheriff asked them to stay put and guard the scene until he figured out his next step. 

    Mrs. Anne Sutton had called 911. She said there was an accident involving her husband. When the first deputy arrived at the house, Mrs. Sutton had calmly explained to the deputy what had happened. 

    She and her husband had walked the trail headed to their neighbor’s BBQ. Their big dog was walking behind them. When they’d  got closer to the bridge, the dog suddenly charged toward something across the bridge, presumably a wild rabbit. The dog sudden and fast charge, had accidently knocked Thomas off balance. Thomas  had hit the top bar of the railing and his weight and the momentum of the impact when his body hit the wooden bar had forced force the bar to break loose from its wooden post. Whit the top bar gone, there was nothing to stop Thomas from falling into the ravine. That was how Thomas Sutton ended up laying broken and lifeless on the bottom of the thirty foot deep ravine. 

     Later, when another deputy had asked Mrs. Sutton to retell her story, she had told him the same thing. The sheriff had interviewed her too. Her story was very much the same. Mrs. Sutton was fully cooperating with the sheriff and his deputies. She even took off her super dark and large sunglasses when one of the deputies, following procedure, asked her to. The sheriff and the deputy saw how red and swollen her eyes were. Aside from answering their inquiries, Anne Sutton kept a low key attitude. 

    She quietly took a seat on one of the lounge chair on the patio behind her house. Sometime her hand would silently wiped her cheeks,  the only sign to show she was crying. Her big dog laid near her feet, content and protective toward her mistress. 

     Seeing Anne Sutton  the way she was, in her stylist, casual blue jean, a thin sweater the color of maple gold wrapped around her torso, with her large dark sunglasses, very composed, keeping whatever she felt tight to herself, giving the sheriff a sense of déjà vu. Mrs. Anne Sutton was a blonde, modern version of Jackie Kennedy when she, too, lost her husband all those years ago.

     The sheriff believed the death of Thomas Sutton was a simple unfortunate accident. But having two men plunged to their death in the same manner at the same ravine in two years period, forced him to carefully dotting all his ‘i’s and to cross all his ‘t’s. He placed a phone call to the CSI and the ME. 

    Anne quietly watched the sheriff work from behind her dark glasses. She couldn't stop crying. But she didn't cry for her husband, she cried for her Jack. 

    She never did see how Jack died. Never saw his dead body, for there was nothing left. But seeing how Thomas laid on the bottom of the ravine gave her a clear picture how her Jack had lain lifeless in almost the same place as her husband. Thomas body would be retrieve by the M.E. then properly burried in the family plot next to his parents, grandparents and series of Sutton ancestor . But Jack’s body had been left alone for wild animals to tear apart. He was so alone. The man who had loved her and all of her faults, had lain there in his last moment on earth all alone, orphaned to the world. The worst part was, she was the one that caused it.