They found out Suju’s plan straight after he brought them to one of the smaller passageways. There was a small boat, unmasked from its’ white nylon sheet by the owner, which had happened to be their host.
They took the detour on the engine-propelled small boat, weaving through the somewhat intricate water passages. After all the turning and slowing down for early punters with their gondolas, they reached the open sea overlooking the north part of the island where its’ neighbours could be visibly seen, the outline of buildings could be made out by the eyes on Suju’s speeding white boat. They were heading east, further away from their agreed accommodation. Suju mentioned that he had a surprise waiting for us.
“I met a problem while sorting the reservations.”, Suju said, honestly. The two looked at him.
“There were these three travellers who booked after you.”, he added.
“And?”, Judas asked, raising his sceptical left eye.
“And…. I accidentally agreed to their booking, even though the dorm was full. They did not want the apartment that I suggested.”, he sighed and said, “it’s yours now.”
Cay and Judas looked at each other, an inaudible conversation was taking place with their eyes. A mixture of scepticism and anxiety.
“You will have the apartment for the exact same price, no extra cost.”, he tried to reassure the two.
“It looks a lot further than our agreed place.”, Cay said, still unsure of his motive.
“Not to worry, I will teach you how to get to the centre.”, and the boat sped faster.
The three got out from the boat and on the dry walkway, Suju guided the two through paths narrow enough for just one person to fit, maybe with a small child alongside. They reached the door that supposedly to be their latently-given accommodation after several confusing turns. The part of Venezia where they were at could easily hide any unprepared visitors, maybe losing him or her in the maze consisting of hundreds of several story-high buildings. He stretched his hand onto the top of the doorframe and produced a key from there.
“Here is your key. And I am still sorry about the sudden change.”, he said, apologetically.
The turn of the key made the old wooden door with an iron grate protecting the glass centre opened, leading to an unkempt apartment. This was not what the two had expected. Suju cursed, mentioning that the last tenants did not tidy the place upon leaving. He assured the two annoyed men that there would be a cleaner coming shortly after to replace the bed sheets and towels, and to pick up whatever was left by the lousy past clients.
He gave them more instructions about how to reach the city centre (“Once you are out, just turn right and head straight. Do you see the sea? Yes! That’s the way to the water bus that will take you there.”, said Suju) and left them to their own expense.
The shower was hung with cold and damp towels, clearly from the old tenants. The rugs on the floor had been half-turned, revealing a poor-looking spiral that was abandoned halfway through the process. There were more to worry about, however, the two tried to make themselves relax. The place was a complete mess.
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Judas had not slept well ever since the incident from Myanmar. He could still recall the details of the inverted hole on the boy’s left temple, his mother suffered the same fate just five hundred meters away from her child.
His mother began to worry when he showed obvious signs of fatigue and sluggishness: He did not notice a car running at high speed when he crossed the road, he was saved only by the split-second reaction of the driver. Even his busy father began to take notice of his unusual behaviour. When he came into the kitchen one night and drank half a bottle of his cognac, as his father saw him conducting it from the living room sofa.
They remained silent about their son’s recent change, they had not asked about what had happened during his volunteering in Myanmar. They just simply did not know how to approach their own son, it was hard enough even before his latest occupation. Their son was half-a-stranger ever since he graduated from secondary school.
His mother seemed to be the fragile one of the two. She tried approaching her son about the occurrence during his stay in the country with its’ zealous Buddhist and government. He noticed her attempt and shuffled back into his room, leaving no chances for her to even look straight into his eyes. Her father kept up the appearance of nonchalance, only his wandering eyes gave away his disguise.
They still had their regular Sunday roast, with the three present. However, the hopes of lifting the mood during the traditional night always could not fit into the awkward confrontation by his parents. Their son was somehow lost in a place where only he himself could walk out from. His parents’ stranger-like behaviour and their lack of courage proved to be the missing concoction for their son’s dwelling in a different world.
As day and night passed, Judas continued his regular routine: Working at the nearby restaurant in a waiter’s uniform, searching for jobs with a better pay online, eat & drink, and sleep. The repetitiveness seemed to hold him in a jar of suspense where he could no longer be more upset nor happy. It was a blissful state without the great feeling, a sovereign of mundaneness eased by the passing of time.
Judas was no longer only his parent’s estranged son. His friends took notice of his absence during regular informal meetings, he used to drink for the sake of his friends’ encouraging words. He occasionally picked up some of their calls or replied to their messages via phone, but his presence still could not be seen when they invited him to join in some pub or café.
This was for the best, Judas thought, to be quiet and to end a day with solace. Oh, the child and the poor mother, the slaughtered Rohingya Muslims. His powerlessness at that time had prompt a growth in him: a strong silence that would neither be deterred by people’s concerns nor worrying about anyone. He sought to keep his state of solitude as a constant reminder of the cruel world. He hated it, so much.
He got out of bed after deciding not to speak to his mother and went to the window facing the road, it looked exactly as before he left. He envied the walkers on the streets with their dogs on leashes, carelessly talking about the news of employability and breakfast. He wanted to forget about the bloodshed, the battering of murderers against the damned. He kept staring at the outside until his eyes ran dry, he had to blink but knew that it would not wipe away the tears seeping out from his conscience. The illusion of living the normal life had since been gone after the realisation of a cruel reality lived by the unlucky some.
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