By Chyonika Roy

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Bai follows the main character Moyna as she tries to figure out how to stop one of the worst days of her life from repeating.

 The outdoor lights of the garage look foggy from the murky rainy night. Outside, an old ribbon seemed to be dangling on its last thread as the bright red fabric got washed out.  I fix the big glasses frames that keep sliding from my nose making everything look like misconfigured blobs of brown, green, and blue. I sit at the long rectangular dining table that used to be in the upstairs dining room. Its dark stained oak was barely visible with the lights flickering. 

I feel the foot pattering in soft patterns, and  across from me, my dad watches the rain from the window. His dark eyes are barely visible through the fading light. 

 If I wasn’t here, I would still be underneath my heavy wool blanket, reading from the glare of the blue light of my laptop screen. But, I’m here, trapped in the garage, frigid, and unable to use my phone because I left it inside, thinking my dad was finally calling me outside for 10 minutes, but 10 minutes turned to 30 ticking to 60, which turned to 2 hours. 

 It seems like a lifetime ago. I worked as fast as I could to return home but when has that ever worked for me? A “thud” echoed against the garage walls. Thunder startled, growing across the sky. Water droplets smatter in rapid succession. My dad, ever cautious, motioned for me to sit down, and close the door. He took out his portable charger and looked at the cabinet to ensure his checklist was in order. 

• First Aid kit, check.
•  Water for at least a week, check.
•  Food in the cabinets, check.
•  Last but not least, the radio in the pocket and the flashlight on the keychain. Check. 

 “Alright, Moyna. We got everything we need to be alright here.” he said, hands twitching,making sure his phone was in his pocket before he fumblingly took it out and handed it to me. I was already frustrated at being stuck helping him for hours when I wasn’t intending to, but I unlocked his phone dutifully to go through his checklist and quell his anxiety about forgetting something.

Instead of rechecking his list at first, I checked the weather app. It just seemed more appropriate given I knew my father was just bending over backward about  something I know he is prepared for. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had an underground bunker for a zombie apocalypse. 36 degrees overnight, 70 percent chance of rain. Good Riddance, I thought as I took a look outside again. I scroll and look at more info. 

It goes one by one.  There is no hurricane. There is no cyclone, or natural disaster happening. Lightning wasn’t even forecasted, and our house was only five steps away. If we make giant steps, like three steps away.

“HAHAHAHAHA” I try to conceal my exhausted laugh. I’d be amused at my dad if only this was one time or a once-in-a-while thing as a result of his paranoia, but this is the fifth day in a row where I am stuck with his foot tapping on the floor and the flickering light. 

I put my head on the table to stop hearing the constant pounding rain. I am doomed to repeat this day again, doomed to repeat 17 again.  I’ve been stuck in a state of limbo. Every morning, I wake up, never reaching the next day. 

Still, I try hopelessly. I try to sleep it off, I try to go into the kitchen and cook. Actually cooking, which for me is like getting into Harvard. I try to ask my brother how his day is. As if in every little act, I will get a quarter that I can put into the ceramic piggy bank on my dresser and save up to buy my way back inside Ms. B’s class where I, on coincidence, opened my email and the subject read Status Portal Updated. 

I will try again here, maybe this time will be enough to save up to pay bail for release. I move my lanky legs over the bench,I step in front of him, and sit in a squat position. I reached out for his hand to feel the peach fuzz feathering it lightly. His dark brown eyes illuminating in the faint garage light.  

“Baba, can’t we make a run for it?” I say softly. My father’s eyes glinted, as if he was actually considering the proposition for the first time, and for a moment I felt my stomach rise like a roller coaster at the very top, hopeful and in anticipation of what he might say, except I know how this will end because I’ve asked this question before. 

“C’mon, sit here with me, you’re safe from the storm here,” he replied gruffly. It was almost as if he was being condescending. As if he couldn’t see the house ahead being illuminated by the television or my brother falling asleep warm by the heater, all while we sat here, arms bare and goosebumps becoming permanent. He didn’t trust my eyes, didn’t trust that I wouldn’t lead him astray or trick him. You’d think after millions of times of the same answer it would make you rage insanely, except it only made me numb to the pain. What was the point of running when you know your faith is inevitable? You can’t escape it. 

A small voice spoke up only to realize it was mine. “What about Bai?” He’s all alone.”

“C’mon he’s safe inside and he’d want you safe, Moina” my dad replied nonchalantly. It made my insides burn. I found myself standing up. I am so stupid. I know what happened today, yesterday, and the day before that. Maybe it was his eyes when I asked about my brother, they were stone and the frigid garage just made them look like ice. So I asked him another question. Maybe because I could see the door right in front of me, I turned back around so that I could finally be honest. 

“ Safety? I’m safer away from you. “ 

“Moyna,” he raised his voice, alarmed. He tried holding on to my hand, but I rapidly snapped it away and took a few steps away from him. I reached for the door, but I needed to make sure my father more than anything heard what I already knew deep inside. 

“He is safer without you,” I said softly before I ran through the rain.

Process

The approach I originally took with this piece is through a free write. Where I wrote in a stream of curiousness through a prompt. Then I recorded what I wrote and uploaded it as a transcript where then I started and editing the story to what it will become.