You'd think the blood would be darker but it is bright on the ground, almost obscenely so. Razzle dazzle rose like from the Crayola set. You only returned to the embassy parking lot after they finished slaughtering all the cows and goats, and you sort of resent yourself for it. You hate that you are squeamish in the face of death; you thought you would be stronger.
Someone left a cow head on the ground, and it sort of looks like Kitty Pryde sank it through the ground and left just enough cow face out for it to breathe. Not that it's going to breathe anymore.
"Happy Idul Adha," you say to your brother, who stayed with you when you didn't want to see them die, who follows you back now, quiet and unperturbed.
"Where's Mom and Dad?" he asks.
You don't know, and together the two of you look for them through a throng of joyous celebrants.
+
When you were four, you insisted on a Christmas tree. Your grandmother, who loved to indulge in your every whim, went out and bought a little plastic tree, just for you. You decorated it with everything you could get your hands on, whether Christmas-themed or not. Your family thought it was cute, and you reacted to their condescension with like condescension. You can't remember if you got any presents.
When you were in high school, your mother co-hosts the subdivision Christmas party and you are so proud of her. This woman, your mother, you forget what she can do sometimes, being of an age where all you know of your parents is what they can't do. This woman who is a staunch, staunch Muslim; who feels more comfortable with the maids and drivers and security guards than with people of her own social standing; who left her family behind to start a new one in a strange new country: there she was, chattering in grammatically incorrect Tagalog in front of everyone, making jokes and laughing, handing out gifts to all the neighborhood kids. The neighborhood asked her to co-host because they love her, and you love her too, and when she calls your name to give you your present, you give her a big hug and she has to remind you sotto voce that there are at least a dozen more gifts to give out.
+
That is ridiculous, and you tell your brother so. Mom and Dad never paid you to fast during Ramadhan, and your brother says, "Well, they didn't need to."
1/2
Someone left a cow head on the ground, and it sort of looks like Kitty Pryde sank it through the ground and left just enough cow face out for it to breathe. Not that it's going to breathe anymore.
"Happy Idul Adha," you say to your brother, who stayed with you when you didn't want to see them die, who follows you back now, quiet and unperturbed.
"Where's Mom and Dad?" he asks.
You don't know, and together the two of you look for them through a throng of joyous celebrants.
+
When you were four, you insisted on a Christmas tree. Your grandmother, who loved to indulge in your every whim, went out and bought a little plastic tree, just for you. You decorated it with everything you could get your hands on, whether Christmas-themed or not. Your family thought it was cute, and you reacted to their condescension with like condescension. You can't remember if you got any presents.
When you were in high school, your mother co-hosts the subdivision Christmas party and you are so proud of her. This woman, your mother, you forget what she can do sometimes, being of an age where all you know of your parents is what they can't do. This woman who is a staunch, staunch Muslim; who feels more comfortable with the maids and drivers and security guards than with people of her own social standing; who left her family behind to start a new one in a strange new country: there she was, chattering in grammatically incorrect Tagalog in front of everyone, making jokes and laughing, handing out gifts to all the neighborhood kids. The neighborhood asked her to co-host because they love her, and you love her too, and when she calls your name to give you your present, you give her a big hug and she has to remind you sotto voce that there are at least a dozen more gifts to give out.
+
That is ridiculous, and you tell your brother so. Mom and Dad never paid you to fast during Ramadhan, and your brother says, "Well, they didn't need to."
You didn't get paid for good grades either.
"That would've put us into debt."
Maybe you should've been more of a delinquent.
And your brother shrugs. "It has its perks."
+