The Paragon

By Kisavi Jayawardena

CHAPTER 07 

“Can I have a biscuit?” Ezra chirped, eyeing the baby-blue packet of biscuits in Eleanor’s hand. 

“Not unless you say please,” Eleanor teased her brother. 

“Please Ellie, please” Ezra begged, stretching across the kitchen table. 

“Here you go” the teenager offered, “now what do you say?” 

“Ellie I know what to say, you don’t have to act all bossy with me” Ezra whined, “thank you”. 

The 13 year old boy continued to munch on the snack, “Did you apologize?”.

“What?” Eleanor questioned. 

“To mum. I’m guessing you haven’t.” Ezra said, shaking his head disapprovingly.

Eleanor hadn’t spoken to Anjali since her outburst. She’d been ignoring Anjali, shutting her out every time she tried to approach her. And Eleanor had begun to regret it. 

“…I…I” 

“You should. She’s really upset, Ellie.” Ezra sooke, not getting a reply from his sister, he admitted, “she cares for you a lot”. 

It hurt him. Ezra was envious. He knew that Anjali loved him, but he was also aware that she loved Eleanor much more. And it hurt him. He’d seen Anjali look longingly at her old pictures of Erik and her. And Ezra understood. He understood that his mother still longed for the man she’d lost 18 years ago. He understood that. But it didn’t help him from feeling any less envious of Eleanor. He too wished to know who his father was. And Ezra wondered if Anjali still longed for him like she did for Erik. 

Ezra was nothing like Anjali nor Andrew. And as ironic as it would seem, the boy resembled Erik’s character in every possible way. Maybe it was the way he reflected Eleanor’s traits. Ezra was shy and quiet like Erik. He was sensitive and selfless like Erik. The irony of it all, for Anjali had never realized how precious her son really was. A blessing to her. 

The boy was a dreamer. Ezra dreamt of a candy life. He dreamt of meeting his father, of having Anjali and his father together, of celebrating at least one of his birthdays with both his parents by his side. He dreamt of a warm childhood, where his father would buy him a dog, play with him and tuck him in bed. That was all the boy ever wished for. But even as he continued to paint different scenarios, he could never put together his father’s face, for Ezra had never seen his father. All he had of his father was his name, which Ezra desperately clung onto, hoping to reunite with him one day. It was in his mind where he was truly and wholeheartedly alive. His imagination. 

“I don’t have that kind of money. You know that” Anjali said, her fist tightening as she crushed the yellow eviction notice.

“What do you expect from me?” Erik’s mother spoke out.

“I’m not spending that. I’ve saved it all up for Eleanor’s university fees.” Anjali stated, “please mother, this is for Eleanor”.

“Don’t call me that you selfish girl. You turned my son against me, eloped and ran away with his baby after he…you murdered him.” Erik’s mother began accusing. 

This was the usual. She was like that. She hated Anjali. A carnivorous hatred that ran deep within her veins, the root of it being racism. Erik’s mother couldn’t stand the fact that her son had brought home a Sri Lankan. She despised Anjali’s black curls, brown-pearl eyes and honey coated skin. It killed the 50 year old woman to picture her grandchildren being born “brown”. Her worst nightmare. At least that was how she’d phrased it to Erik. 

Erik had introduced Anjali as his pregnant girlfriend, and had asked for his mother’s blessings to marry the girl. And he was deeply saddened by his mother’s response, “not a chance in hell, you get that girl to have an abortion”. It was only then, that he realized that the mother he loved so dearly would never change. Erik was faced with the decision of having to choose between two lives, between living as the son his mother had wished for, or living with his lover. So he did what he could, and eloped, choosing to support both Anjali and the baby they were expecting. 

“You stole my son. And you didn’t even let me see her. My only grandchild” Erik’s mother went out, earning a deep sigh from Anjali. 

“I can’t pay my rent. I don’t have enough to even feed my children. Please. Please lend me some money, and I promise I’ll return it back” Anjali begged. 

“What are you doing? What do you mean we don’t have money?” Eleanor questioned, as she appeared in the living room. 

“Is that Eleanor? Let me hear her voice” Erik’s mother demanded. 

“Eleanor…” Anjali stood in silence, before she hung up on Erik’s mother. 

“Did you hear all of that?” 

“Yeah. Do we not have enough?” 

“It’s not that Ellie, it’s nothing you need to worry about” Anjali tried changing the topic, as she pounced on to the mauve floor cushion. 

“I’m confused. It sounded like you were begging.” she interrogated. 

“Eleanor don’t. You haven’t spoken to me in days, and now you’re…” Anjali began, getting cut off by her daughter. 

“What? I need to know. Of course I need to know” 

“We have enough. I lied about not being able to feed y’all.” Anjali tried joking, “I’ve just put it all aside for your university fees” she admitted. 

“University fees? Are you kidding me?” she kicked the side of their sofa, “we can’t afford to pay rent because you’re saving up for uni?” 

“Ellie calm down” Anjali said, getting back up off the floor. 

“Oh I’m sorry, do you not understand how stupid you’re being” the teenager continued. 

“Eleanor! I’m not being stupid. Is it stupid for a mother to want their child to go to university” Anjali retorted. 

“Of course not. I want to go. University has been my dream. To be a writer.” she yelled, “But I don’t want to be homeless”. 

“Eleanor! I told you. I’ll take care of it”.

“Yeah I’m sure you will” Eleanor muttered, turning away from Anjali as she walked out of the living room. 

Anjali was a dropout. She’d gotten pregnant with Eleanor in her second year, and she dropped out, choosing to work and support her baby. Which was why Anjali desperately needed for Eleanor to go to university. She wished for her daughter to lead the life she couldn’t. Anjali wished to see Eleanor graduate from university, prepare for her first job interview and get her first job. For Eleanor to date, get married and have a family of her own. To welcome Eleanor on the sunny days in summer and the frosty days in winter. That was all she ever wished for. 

And it never crossed her mind that Eleanor might not share the same dream. 

“I wish I was Pandora. I wish I was a successful author.” Eleanor whispered, reading a news article about an upcoming movie Clifford would be directing. “I wish I had been born as Pandora”. 

All her life, Eleanor had desired to be a writer. She was raised by the books she’d read, and she had admired Clifford Warren’s work. Eleanor was 12, when Clifford held a press conference, introducing his daughter Pandora Warren as an author herself. And Eleanor was infatuated by Pandora. Her first novel managed to sell out in just a month. By the age of 25 Pandora had been worked on the scripts of two of the greatest thriller movies. 

It seemed as though everything Pandora touched, had blossomed into a golden pot of success. And Pandora had expressed her admiration for Eleanor. She was already aware of the skill she possessed, but now she was convinced that she too would make it big. This was the hope Eleanor now clung to. She believed that she too would blossom into a successful author, for Pandora had chosen to be her mentor. And now all she had to do was follow through with everything Pandora instructed her to do. 

“I’m going to be the best author. The best there is. I wish to be like you Pandora” 

Stay tuned for Chapter 08 which will be out on the 03rd of September.