THE GATE KEEPER (2 page)

2

Present
day 2
^nd
July 2014

My
eyes opened and I found myself staring at the ceiling. Awoke, I gave my body a
few minutes to adjust itself and thought about the important aspect of the day.
Higher learning was an important aspect which I had learned to embrace through
my single mum and the bullies at school.

I
know longer was the unfit and bulky little boy of my class. Through hard work
and dedication I had changed myself into an athletic freak. What I truly
desired from the past had become my present worse enemy for I no longer crave
for it. The more I stay away from it the more worried my mother became. She had
even stated that I had become anorexia.

Deep
down I knew what damage the excess food had done to my physical frame. I could
not tolerate the corruption of my body and allowing my weight to crumble under
my feet. The perfect teenage male’s appearances outline my true concept of my
devotion and discipline towards sports. I simply referred it as the one that
got away. I had been enslaved under the psychological addiction of
uncontrollable hunger. Changes had to happen and the bully allowed me to see it
clearly. Now the hardest part of maintaining the athletic figure remains to be
seen for the upcoming years.

I
brought myself up and stretch out both of my arms towards the ceiling as I
release the tension from my cracking backbone and spine. Then I walked out of
bed. Opposite the foot of my bed was the door which led to the first floor’s
hallway. I head towards it and came to a halt at the doorway. Attached overhead
with the door frame was an adjustable chin up metal bar insulated with black
rubber.

I
jump and got hold of the pull up bar in a wide arm position. I bend both legs
in a ninety degree angle and crisscross it over each other while my hands bore
the weight of my body. I easily brought myself into the morning routine by
lifting my own dead weight towards the metal bar. Then I drop it under control
as I breathed out. Downstairs the door’s bell ring. I sucked in the fresh air
as I drag my shoulder blade towards the bar with my head facing downward. A
second tone from the door’s bell rings.

I
released it and landed on both legs with the knees bended to evenly distribute
the tension of the fall. I turned towards the swivel chair to my right and
brought it out from the mini-computer table near the window. The bell rang for
a third time.

Once
the chair was near my bed I sort its pneumatic pump and level the seat with the
bed. Its arm rest was gone, missing from wear and tear. This provided easy
access for my second routine exercise.

I
stood with one leg firmly on the soft mattress bed and with the other one on
the soft office chair. Under control I opened my leg with the chair rolling
slowly away from the bed. Its star like foot of five wheels drove my elastic
leg to its maximum degrees of one eighty. I brought both palms of my hands
together. In preparation of regenerating my body’s aura, I controlled my
breathing, distribute and centralise my weight evenly.

Familiar
perceptible and audible sound echoed through the hall way for the fourth times.
I closed my eyes and took my mind off this place.
Meditation was the way
forward and towards the enlighten path of a true martial artist,
my mentor
and master once said.

Macy
had been stuck with breakfast when the door had ring three times. She couldn’t stop
as it would have opposed her mission. Her aim was to have her son confronts
what she believes to be his eating disorder. The door rang for a fourth time.

‘Ok,
I’m coming!’ She responded as she turned the cooker off.
Safety comes first
she
thought
.

She
walked towards the door through the small dining-room and living room. At the
corridor, Macy’s curiosity kicked in and she started to wonder who was on the
other side of the door. She had successfully turned the small house into a safe
haven. As a single mum she had strived to meet weekly ends. Thorough thoughts
of any cost she might had incurred or missed brought an adrenaline chill of
fear. Macy came to a pause as she put one hand on the knob. 

Macy
stood stealthily still at the front of the main door. The fingers of her right
hand laid at rest as if waiting for clearance. As the sole source of income she
had to prioritise their needs. Eviction was the scariest thing that came
through her mind. Deep down Macy knew the outcome of both for becoming homeless.
She wondered if she had missed an important bill. The one which could
jeopardised the standard of their daily lively hood and put them at the wrong
side of the law.

Clear,
there shouldn’t be any outstanding...water, electricity and gas bills are
sorted
her conscience agreed as it came to terms with her ethical
thoughts.
Macy confirmed to herself that it was safe. Convinced enough,
she gripped the knob and twists it. The door open inward and she took a peek in
between the security door chain.

‘Yes.’
Macy said calmly.

‘Miss
Smith?’ The stranger at the door asked.

‘Yes.’
Macy responds, masking her nervousness and curiosity.

         
‘It’s an honour to meet you, Miss Smith.’ The stranger said with excitement.

‘Have
we met?’ Macy asked curiously.

‘Indeed
our path had once cross from the beginning...’ The stranger said.

‘I’m
sorry I don’t remember it, when was that?’

‘Ma’am
may I come in? It’s for the benefit of your bright young Phil,’

‘Listen,
sir, whoever you are, I don’t know you and you haven’t Show me you’re I.D. You
can be anybody as far as I’m concern.’ Macy firmly confirmed.

‘I’m
just an old entrepreneur and like I’ve said, it’s for the benefit of your son.’

‘Why
would a businessman be interested in a sixteen years old kid? .....How do you
know Phil?’ Macy seeks for answers as she fired more curious questions.

‘Please,
let me in. Outside is no place to discuss family affaires. We both know that
your son is an exceptional bright boy and my firm had already invested in him.’

Life
has been financially unfair to Macy since when Phil’s father left her to solely
raise him fifteen years ago. She wanted to believe the stranger but she
couldn’t. There was no such thing as a free ride in this world. She had
mastered hardship of being a single mum. There was no turning back.

Macy
could partially see the stranger. Part of his black bowler hat fit well with
his posh suite. She did not fail to notice his expensive taste of his leather
shoe which was exposed through the limited peek of the door chain. She had no
choice. She had to take a chance and believe that miracle can happen.

Unfairness
had knock at her door the day he left her with a child.
Perhaps God had
answered my prayers, have faith in the almighty our creator our Lord God,
she
thought. Beside the stranger has been right about his son’s academic ability.
She always knew that one day her son’s prowess academic ability shall come to
light.

‘Bare,
with me Sir.’ Macy said as she gently closed the door.

She
laid both hands on the door and thought about the risk she was putting both of
them in. If the stranger turned out to be a criminal it could turn out nasty
for her son and herself. The phobia of being attack by a stranger has been
strong within her. The world hasn’t been good to her and she never expect the
best of any situation but the worse instead.

Some
may call it paranoia but she called it survival instinct. Today she broke her
own rule. She removed the chain from the door and opened it, for a stranger
armed with only his words as proof of honour.

‘Please
do come in if it’s in the interest of my son.’ Macy said nervously. 

‘Of
course
ma’m
.’  

‘Please
close the door behind you.’ Macy said as she led the way while the stranger did
as instructed.

He
followed her.

They
both came out of the hallway which opened up to a small living room and
kitchen. The stranger came to a halt a few yards away from Macy. He removed his
bowler and put it in his hand. He put his left hand in his left pocket of his
black suite. Macy turned towards him. A chill of fear made her stood still. She
felt powerless for a moment. She wondered if she was about to become a victim.

The
stranger removed his hand from his pocket. Macy exhaled a breath of fear. She
tried to relax as the stranger gestured an envelope towards her. He smiled at
her and anticipates her movement.

‘It’s
yours. Please do read it when I’m gone.’

‘You
told me that you’ve got business proposal for my son.’ She curiously seeks for
answers. 

His
eyes slowly and carefully scanned at the framed family photos on the wall. He
looked at them as if she wasn’t there. For a moment Macy felt as if she was
being ignored. She tried to trace his line of sight. She step a few inches to
her right away from the stranger’s line of vision. It was the photo of her son.

‘Phil’s
first win... under seventeen....’ Macy explained to the
stranger.     

‘Yes,
I know the
kumite
.’

The
stranger’s face was filled with strong emotion of sadness that puzzled Macy.
Her mind searched for answers. She wanted to comprehend but to no avail the
reason became a mystery. The built up expression of overwhelm sorrow made his
face appeared red.

Phil’s
mother turned at the photo and saw the same image that she had seen for the
past two years. Her son dressed up in what she called his white pyjama suite,
secured by a green belt at his waist and armed with one massive golden coloured
cup. Atop of the cup was a cover with the statue of a metal martial artist
displaying a high kicks.

‘He
had lost quite some stones there, in a matter of a few months and I believe
that’s when he became obsessed with his weight.’ Macy said as she nervously
folds her arms together cupping and cradling both elbows with the opposite
hands.

‘Obsessed
is not the right word.’ The stranger said as he wept and explode with sad
emotion.

‘Are
you ok?’ Macy seeks for reasoning she could hardly understand.

She
brought her left hand to her temple while the other remains in the same
position, keeping comfort for the other arm. A sense of
deja
-vu
struck her. She felt as if her mind was playing tricks on her. His face seems
similar to her former boyfriend but yet he seems quite old at the same time.
She carefully scanned for every line of symmetries with the old memories of his
son’s father and compares it with the actual stranger’s face standing in front
of her.  

‘Excuse
me, what did you say your name was?’ Macy asked.

‘I’m
sorry, I got to go.’ The stranger excused himself. He quickly turned towards
the main door and head for it.

‘...but
you haven’t met my son Phil.’

‘The
letter speaks for itself.’ The stranger responds as he rushed out of the house.

The
stranger covered his face and dry off the tears with a white handkerchief he
had pull out from his pocket. Macy felt confused. His dazzling expression was
hard for her to interpret and come to terms with logic.
Did the stranger
have a breakdown? Was he crazy? Did I invite a crazy man inside my house?
Answers
which she believed only a shrink could have the ability to evaluate and come up
with a solution.

He
put on his bowler’s hat and head for the main door behind him. He was gone.
Macy thought of the similarities she had felt. The déjà-vu was strong. 
Her mind had manage to merge the newly face with the old memories. Her
subconscious fought to come to terms with what her eyes registered. Yes it has
accepted the similarities. Yes there was a sense of belief that she has met
that person before. It was in the way the stranger spoke. For the moment it was
all a mystery. She closed the main door the stranger had left opened. 

3

The
stranger came back. He stood still on the pathway and stare at the house. He
admired the small dwell made of wood. He closed his eyes and brought his mind to
a place hidden deep within. Back to the lost memories he once cherished.

Neighbours
took notice of his unusual presence. Some took a peek at him through their
windows. The old curious one hid themselves behind their curtain while they
waited as if expecting to witness an event of high importance. Some came
outside in their front yard pretending that they had something to fetch.

The
stranger didn’t mind. His body was present but his mind was absent from the
nearby reality. Behind him, opposite Macy’s home were the identical houses
which spread both ways along
Jefferson’s road
. It was no longer dawn.
The street became alive with the paper boy distributing its product on his
bicycle. He rode fast and distribute it by throwing papers at the addresses he
was given. His customers opened their front door and came out for it.