Switch Mode

PUAA Chapter 2

Holding the Umbrella

Widow Omega sat atop the mountain, feeling the wind.

After losing his lover, it seemed like the whole world had started to rain, raining endlessly, with no one to hold an umbrella, no one to accompany him.

There were many moments he thought of ending his life, not out of mental illness, but simply wanting to leave this continuously rainy space and time.

Maybe it was on the way home from work one day, picking a wildflower he had never seen before, with no one to share it with, no one to appreciate it.

Maybe it was on a quiet afternoon, waking up from the lazy sunlight, finding no difference between sleep and wakefulness, utterly meaningless.

Or perhaps it was seeing the vegetables in the garden lush and thriving, everything seemed perfect, except he just didn’t fit in.

He thought about death, but he also lived seriously—it wasn’t a contradiction.

The night he went to the sea, he just washed the dishes, gently closed the door, and calmly walked into the night.

“You used to call me ‘dumb-dumb’,” he remembered.

“You said I was delicate, verbally disliking the trouble I caused, yet you wouldn’t let me do any chores.”

Widow Omega caressed the tombstone with a smile on his lips; he never cried in front of the tombstone.

Because he had already cried secretly many times, because his husband said he looked good when he smiled.

“This year’s new sweater I knitted for you, take a look. I feel I’ve improved, not sure if you’d like it.”

“The one from last year, I didn’t knit well.”

If he had known it was the last, he should have done better, which made Widow Omega feel bad.

Actually, there was no room for improvement because the judges had ended the competition the same day last year.

Last winter, Widow Omega wasn’t yet Widow Omega; he was a little-known painter. The day he decided to knit the sweater, a red bug flew in through the window and landed on the painter’s hand.

The painter’s face turned white, and his husband hugged him, coaxing, “Dumb-dumb, ladybugs are beneficial bugs.”

So, last year’s sweater had a crooked little bug pattern on it.

“What to do, I still can’t paint,” Widow Omega said, a bit embarrassed and wronged, “But now I’m not afraid of many things.”

“I can protect you too.”

So could you come back? Widow Omega thought to himself, not voicing it out loud.

It was too difficult; he hated to make it tough for others.

Widow Omega didn’t end his life today either, because of Alpha’s persistence, the young officer found him on the mountain.

This might be Alpha’s lover, Widow Omega thought. He wasn’t used to initiating conversation, silently leading the young officer to retrieve Alpha’s belongings.

“The safety of the General is crucial, so he has already been taken back to the capital by the military government. Please understand, and thank you for saving him,” the young officer said, his eyes slightly red, a rare sight for him, as he was a tough Omega, not gentle.

“I understand, you’re welcome,” Widow Omega pulled out the military uniform Alpha had worn, retrieving the epaulettes from a small metal box.

As he handed them back, Widow Omega suddenly asked, “Have you ever doubted for a moment that he was dead?”

The young officer paused for a long while before replying: “Never.”

“That’s good,” Widow Omega nodded.

He really was, as his husband said, too fragile, too delicate.

The young officer’s eyes kept discreetly sizing up the small single bed, his face pale, but he remained polite without asking questions.

Widow Omega noticed this, always perceptive and empathetic. So he took the initiative to speak, “We didn’t cross any boundaries, and he doesn’t love me. He often looked through me at others when he looked at me.”

“How do you know?” the young officer neither agreed nor disagreed.

“Because I am the same,” Widow Omega smiled, adding, “He has amnesia, so he doesn’t realize it, but I don’t.”

Sometimes, he really wished for amnesia.

No, Widow Omega quickly corrected himself in his mind.

He couldn’t have amnesia; if he did, then no one would remember the person who held the umbrella for him on that rainy day.

“That wasn’t me, right? We don’t look alike,” the young officer held the military uniform in his arms, his tone low, “We were just in a political marriage.”

It was fully dark now, the narrow concrete path outside didn’t allow for cars, and there were no streetlights. Widow Omega picked up the kerosene lamp from the table and escorted the young officer out.

Widow Omega closed the door and walked ahead, the quiet all around conducive to conversation. Perhaps encouraged by Widow Omega’s gentle gaze, reminiscent of an evening breeze, the usually reticent young officer felt compelled to share.

“Actually, just before the General went missing, he was wounded on a mission, and I was bandaging him. When we were changing the bandages, he suddenly touched my hand and asked if I’d be willing to try with him.”

Widow Omega recalled the moment Alpha had expressed his feelings to him; it was also while changing bandages, highlighting a similarity with the young officer in these small details.

“And then?” Widow Omega asked.

“Then, my words were too clumsy, I’ve always been like this, especially in front of him. He pressed against me, kissed me, I pushed him away. I said, his wound hadn’t healed yet, and also, I didn’t want children,” the young officer’s expression shifted from frustration to shyness, then regret and sorrow.

These emotions, coupled with despair, tormented him for four months.

“My tone must have been too harsh, my words really too clumsy. I think I hurt his feelings, and afterward, he kept his distance,” the young officer seldom opened up, hence the faltering speech.

His surroundings were always filled with Alphas or Betas, he had never met someone as gentle as Widow Omega.

Widow Omega was a good listener, “You like him,” he concluded.

The kerosene lamp flickered a dim light in front of them, Widow Omega smiled again, thinking about how fortunate it was to have someone you like still alive.

“I haven’t said it yet.” That’s why the young officer was particularly remorseful during the uncertainty of Alpha’s life or death.

“Then you should tell him.”

There’s nothing that can’t be communicated. Because fate always plays tricks on us, we can only try not to trick ourselves, not to let precious love fade away.

The surroundings brightened, the car was right there, the young officer liked Widow Omega very much, feeling an immediate kinship, he looked at the kerosene lamp in Widow Omega’s hand, noticing the cute little yellow flowers and ladybug painted on it.

So he relaxed his tone.

“I saw someone once, with a very precious sweater, it had a unique pattern, also a ladybug.”

“Who was it?” Widow Omega maintained a casual tone, but his whole body began to tremble, tension spreading from his heart to his limbs.

“My brother.” The young officer turned his head, noticing Widow Omega’s reaction, then continued sharing the sweater owner’s story.

“My brother was also a general, he refused a political marriage, insisted on marrying a very ordinary person, my father was furious, he’s always been autocratic, stripped my brother of his military rank, effectively exiling him.”

“Later, my brother was severely injured, found by the General barely alive.”

“It was a secret mission issued by the military government, very arduous, if completed, one could get a large villa in the military district.”

“Capable people naturally have money, they don’t care for such rewards, those without capability, afraid of dying, hardly anyone wanted to take it.”

“My brother once spent a fortune on an ordinary oil painting, painted by an unknown little painter, a white rose.”

“So, I think, those years, he probably didn’t have it easy.”

Saying this, the young officer suddenly widened his eyes, in disbelief, he thought of the white rose Widow Omega had placed at the tomb.

“Is he still alive?” Widow Omega’s voice was soft, like scooping the moon from the water, afraid any movement too large would shatter the beautiful moonlight.

“Yes,” the young officer replied.

Alive, that’s good, alive, that’s good, Widow Omega cried and laughed, like a landscape painting finally gaining color.

Though there are many sweaters in the world with ladybug patterns, there’s always that possibility, the one he didn’t knit well. Widow Omega began to look forward to catching the moon, but soon his brows and eyes drooped.

If it really was his husband, alive, why hadn’t he come to find him, even having his comrades pass on his ashes, belongings, and a farewell message, taking back the epaulettes.

His husband wasn’t dead, he just didn’t want him anymore.

Widow Omega dreaded making others uncomfortable, but it really hurt, his whole heart numb with pain.

It turned out he had never endured the most painful place.

He had a thousand reasons to die, only one reason to live. He feared no one would tend his husband’s grave after his death.

Once, this sole reason was too heavy, tilting the scale slightly.

Now, the scale of life and death suddenly lost balance, he felt like he was back at the sea, the mountaintop, the bathroom, the railway track.

Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Ads Blocker Image Powered by Code Help Pro

Ads Blocker Detected!!!

We have detected that you are using extensions to block ads. Please support us by disabling these ads blocker.

Powered By
Best Wordpress Adblock Detecting Plugin | CHP Adblock

Options

not work with dark mode
Reset