He soaked in the applause as he posed for pictures with the Institute's President, his hand caught in the President's in a manly handshake. Alex turned this way and that in response to the requests of the team of paparazzi arranged for the event. The flashes of their camera lights reflected off of his spectacles, causing him to blink as well. He didn't bother. It was a moment of pride. Of triumph. It was reward for consistency. It was his moment. But it wasn't just for himself alone.
In the midst of the photo session frenzy, he stole a quick glance to where he had asked her to sit. And there she was, beaming with smiles. Filled with as much pride as he himself was. Possibly even more. Because, apart from himself, no one else put more into bringing to life the force that brought him to this podium.
His mother.
The Alex that was standing there wasn't always a trophy candidate. As he reciprocated her smile and saw her wipe her teary eyes and wave at him, he was transported to the day when it all changed. Forever.
One of his maternal aunts had come visiting one day, so many years back. He was in the second year of secondary school at the time. After some light talk with her sister, his mother, she had enquired about his whereabouts.
"In the sitting room, as usual," had been his mother's reply.
"I'm sure it'd be one of those cartoons that's keeping him quiet like this," auntie said while getting up.
She sauntered into the parlour and saw Alex with his eyes riveted on the TV screen. Laughingly, she shook him to get his attention saying, "So because of Voltron you can't come and ask of your brothers, eh Alezzy." She always referred to her own two sons as Alex's brothers and had a preference for the more endearing "Alezzy" which only she was allowed to use.
"Is that how to..." She stopped mid-sentence.
It wasn't just Alex's less-than-excited response that caught her. His body was hot under the touch. And when he turned to look at her, forcing his gaze from the screen, his eyes were pale and beginning to redden. She didn't know when she screamed for his mother.
A mild melodrama ensued as mama Alex, a senior nurse with the State's Teaching Hospital burst into the sitting room, aghast. She was so terrified, she lost sense of how to deal with the what was happening.
"Alex! Alex!!" she grabbed his head and gazed into his eyes. "Haaaay, I'm finished," she cried holding her head with both hands seeing how pale his eyes were.
She entered more hysterics when she felt his temperature. She was almost beginning to jump around before some reasoning began to return. As she looked around for what to get some water with, auntie returned to the parlour with a bowl of cold water and a face towel.
Mama Alex just seized both and was immediately dabbing Alex's head and neck with the damp towel while auntie proceeded to remove his shirt. The towel was already hot before the second button was unfastened. When auntie saw her sister's hands shaking, she gently eased the towel from her hands and continued with the dabbing.
Mama Alex, still shaking, went to quickly change the water which wasn't cold enough any more.
In the kitchen she saw that Alex's lunch was hardly touched. He must've lost appetite, been running a temperature and feeling ill. Yet, he sat quietly in the sitting room pretending to be watching cartoons? If her sister didn't... She shuddered at the thought. She couldn't continue because she'd seen what the consequences were of any escalating rise in body temperature that was unattended to. It was never a nice outcome.
She felt frightened of the several "what if's" that came to her mind. The more she thought about it, the worse her fear grew. She didn't know when the tears avalanched. She tried to stifle them and quickly changed the water.
Just as she was about to reenter the parlour, she overheard her sister say to Alex, "... want to put your mother in trouble? Eh? How can you be here feeling sick and you know she is a nurse? Couldn't you have just told her so that she can help you to get better quickly? Ah ah! You just sat here. Now, see how afraid you've made her because..."
She stopped when she looked up and saw mama Alex standing by the door leading to the parlour from the kitchen. The look of fear on her countenance had vanished. As had the tears. In its place was something she recognised very well. The early warning signals of anger before an eruption of volcanic propulsions.
Auntie was confused and wondered what the sudden change meant. "Sister..." she began, "what is..."
That was as far as she got before mama Alex descended on Alex. It was a beating that was borne out of exasperation. Even Alex never saw it coming. She was beating him and crying. Alex was being beaten and crying. Auntie was trying to stop the beating and crying too. All for different reasons.
Mama Alex was tired of Alex's penchant for not speaking out and now almost dying as a result, in her very presence. Alex was in pain from the illness and now, the beating. Auntie was confused and now, sympathetic of Alex's condition. But her sister couldn't be restrained.
"I have told you times without number, open your mouth and talk. It is not for decoration," mama Alex was intoning, as slap followed slap all over the wailing Alex's hot body. "It's not only to say, 'Buy this, buy that' for me. Say what is wrong with you. Tell me when something is wrong, you will not hear. You want to kill me for my mother? I will kill you first!"
She wrestled herself from her sister's grip as auntie tried to stop the beating.
"I didn't kill my mother. You will not kill me, you hear?" She pounded him some more. "I will beat this sickness from your body," a now fiery mama Alex was saying in between heavy breaths.
"And if he dies in the process?" auntie asked while catching hold of her sister's raised hand to stop another heavy slap.
"Leave me oo, let him die na," she countered. "At least I'd know nobody will be giving me high BP everyday because they can't open their dirty mouth and talk unless it's to ask for biscuits and sweets."
Finally, auntie got a good grip of her and forcefully pulled her away from the cowering, crying child. She was still struggling to be free all the way to the bedroom shouting, "Lemme teach him the lesson of his life and force his mouth to open and that rubbish sickness to run away."
Auntie slept over that day. His mum, when she finished hyperventilating was repentant. She didn't sleep all night. Her tears-soaked eyes were heavy when he woke the next day, back to health. But the lesson had been taught. And well learnt.
That day onwards, it was impossible shutting Alex up. Not even his mother could. He talked up a storm whenever he opened his mouth. He became irrepressible. A dogged fighter for whatever he believed in. Even if he stood alone. He made himself heard.
It was the President's feigned cough that brought him back to the present day.
"Good to have you back, Alex. I'd like to have my hand back, if you don't mind," the President joked.
As everyone who heard laughed, including Alex who quickly freed the man's hand from the handshake, Alex found himself shedding a tear. It was in gratitude. For everything else his mum, mama Alex, had done for him over the years. And like he always did when he felt these emotions, he swore.
I'd make sure you're always crying for joy anytime you think of me. I'd make you proudest. The proudest mum ever. And he meant every word.
As usual.
