Hi! Just wanted some feedback on a short story I wrote for the creative SAC based around the book Island by Alistair MacLeod. Also, what are the key components I should add when writing a statement of intention and is there anything I should be adding to the story to make writing the statement of intention more easy?
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Birthday
Today’s the day. Finally going to be of legal age, can finally drink and be somewhat independent with my life. I sat up on the rough air mattress beneath me and scanned the room through my blurry vision. The room seemed a lot smaller than usual and it smelled…unfamiliar, as if I had awoken at a friend’s house form a sleepover. Across the room I squinted to see both my parents on the second bed that had a spring mattress and a bed frame. Finally being conscious of my father’s loud snoring, I escaped the dazed state and realised where I was. It was nice to be back home. The rooms were a lot quainter than back in Australia, especially with the old fashioned pottery that my parents had bought and the nostalgic scent of incense that filled every room. Hearing the clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen, I stood up and decided to head down.
I slumped down the stairs as my body still wasn’t awake as my mind was and I saw my Lolo cooking fried rice for breakfast.
“Morning Lolo.” I chimed quietly in hopes not to wake anyone else up.
“Good morning birthday boy!” he hummed back, still concentrating on the rice-filled wok in front of him, “So how does it feel to be a fully grown man?”
“Not that much different I guess. Probably hasn’t sunk in yet.” I responded.
“It will soon enough,” he chuckled, “Tita Benny would’ve loved to see you all grown up. It’s a shame isn’t it?”
I hesitated to respond, “Yeah, a shame it is.”
Lolo continued make fried rice for everyone while I sat down on the dining room chair trying to forget. Tita Benny was a name I hadn’t heard in years. She was dear to everyone in the family. I remember when my mother broke the news to me in Australia. It was about 7:30pm and I was lying on my bed, tablet in hand. There was a sudden knock from my door and opened it to see my mother with her phone clutched in her hand. I didn’t know how quickly a heart can harden up until that moment. I snap out of my daze staring down at the grimy tiled kitchen floor and soon enough both my parents came downstairs and we all ate breakfast together.
Lunchtime came around as I sat in the living room. My father and Lolo were in the garage discussing the old bird breeding business we owned while my mother was in the kitchen making pandesal sandwiches for us. I hadn’t had any fresh pandesal while in Australia so the smell of the freshly baked and slightly sweet bread was very appealing. Meanwhile, I was just on my phone scrolling through the Facebook birthday messages when I heard my mother call from the kitchen.
“The food’s ready” she yelled, trying to also communicate with my father and Lolo.
I made my way towards the dining room as I heard the footsteps of the others behind me.
She placed the plate down whilst steam was being emitted from each bread. I noticed that the pandesal here was very different to the ones we bought in Melbourne and in a good way. They were way softer with a more prominent crunch from the crust. I salivated at the thought of taking another bite.
“The pandesal here is good Jay?” my mother asked seeing my obvious desire to eat more.
“Of course it is!” interrupted Lolo, “all of it was made locally and by the guys down the road.”
I look over through the window to the neighbours he was talking about. Across the road was a conglomerate of what seemed to be part house and part milk bar. Imbedded into the plaster wall was a glass case filled to the brim with all kinds of snacks that I had forgotten about. I could also see the inside of the shop was fully stocked with other colourful bags presumably filled with various other treats.
“Tita Benny used to make Pandesal right?” my father asked from out of nowhere.
I stop eating abruptly at the sound of her name. I sat there quietly with my head down avoiding the eyes of the others eating.
“She did.” My mother confirmed.
“In fact, it was her who taught the boys across the road to make it,” Lolo remarked, “and now look where they are, built a whole business around it thanks to her.”
I clutched the pandesal harder, slightly crushing the crust on both sides of the sandwich, as the others continued to eat and talk about nonsense.
I went back to the lounge, not even bothering to finish the remains of my half-eaten sandwich. I sat down on the couch and, in an attempt to distract myself and not get too emotional, I continued to scroll and reply to the rest of the Facebook messages. By the time I had finished, the sky had gotten darker as the silhouette of trees swayed in the calm wind. I could smell my mother and Lolo cooking food while my father was taking a nap upstairs. My mother asked me to wake him up so we could eat together. I put my phone snuggly in my pocket and went up to wake him. As we came downstairs we were introduced to a marvellous sight.
Laid out across the table was a banquet of food, not only made by Lolo and my mother but food from Jollibee, a fast food joint that isn’t available in Australia. I instantly remembered the smell of deep fried chicken mixed with mass produced spaghetti and rushed down. In the middle of the table was a glorious chocolate cake with ‘Happy 18th Birthday CJ’ iced on the top. Before anyone had a chance to eat, Lolo lit the eighteen candles on the cake as the three adults sang the same tune I have heard for 18 years. Soon after, we immediately started to gorge on all the food.
In the middle of my food bliss, Lolo chimed in, “Tita Benny would’ve loved to see this.”
I abruptly stopped eating and stared silently at my plate, fork and spoon still in hand.
“I know,” my mother added, “It would’ve been nice to see her reaction to Jay being a full grown man now.”
I placed my fork and spoon down and continued to stare at my plate of unfinished food.
“It’s such a shame really.” My father added, not noticing of my behaviour.
I sit up from my chair frustrated and began to go towards the stairs, still avoiding eye contact with the other family members,
“Hey Jay, sit down.’ My mother commanded.
“I’m not hungry.” I mumbled in a feeble attempt to reply.
“Jay what’s wrong?” my father asked, “Was it something we said?”
I snapped, “It’s everything!”
Everyone else seemed to be taken aback by my sudden outburst.
I screamed, “You guys keep talking about Tita Benny like she’s still here but she’s gone. She’s gone forever and she’s not going to come back. I just wanted to celebrate my birthday with my family for once without having to be reminded of her! I didn’t even go to her funeral because of stupid school and I never had the chance to say good bye and…”
I stood there mouth open and suddenly aware of the tears, not only running down my face but on everyone else’s. Scared and ashamed I ran upstairs and slammed the bedroom door behind me.
I awaken in the night due to someone shaking me. My eyes open and I could feel the breaking of dried tears on my face. I look up and see Lolo with my coat in his hand. He extends his hand out to me to help me get up from the mattress. I put on the coat and followed him to the house next door. This used to be where one of my uncles lived before he moved to the USA. Looking into the main room, I see my parents with their coats on staring to the other side. On the other side, I saw a mantelpiece filled with her belongings, her jar, her pictures, pictures of the family. I slowly walked over and knelt down without noticing the tears forming in my eyes. I wailed out, incomprehensible screaming and crying of a pain that had been locked away for years. My parents grabbed each other rightly as Lolo stood by the door. I stare up at her remains in the jar and memories of her fill my mind. I’m reminded of old times when I was younger and how she took care of me and her face when I left for Australia all those years ago. I stood up, wiped the tears from my face while I stared at her picture.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. Good bye Tita Benny.”
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