Three Brothers: Part 1, the reunion

Malcolm stretched his aching back and stepped off the plane in Los Angeles after a torturous 9-hour flight from Tokyo. A large-limbed 6-foot-2 man was not meant to cramp into an economy seat with bad food and even worse service, especially when his neighbor was a sweaty middle-aged American businessman with a bulging waistline and a wheezing snoring problem. The pristine September morning air outside the plane in LAX was dry, crisp and clean, a far cry from the hot and humid stink of the torturing late summer heat in Tokyo. Malcolm took a deep breath and surveyed the bustling airport scenery--he had returned to the country where he labored four arduous years fighting and arguing and evolving with his would-be-lifelong friends within the fortified confine of a tradition-rich private university. Most of them remained in this land of silver and gold while he disappeared quietly to a strange and distant land. In the blink of an eye, six years had passed, and things, surrounding and people had all changed ... or maybe they had only acquire a jaded tint of glaze and are really the same in nature underneath? A spurt of familiar impressions lying dormant in his head awoke and rushed all at once to his senses, causing him a moment of mental lapse. "Bang!" a wavy blond-haired passenger clad in flopping beach sandals hurried past him exiting the gate, slamming his large well-traveled duffel bag onto Malcolm's head. Malcolm rubbed his head in pain as he watched the tanned, sturdily built teenager in oversized shorts and dark-rimmed sunglasses continued his trot in oblivion. "Land of the free. home of the brave, huh?" Malcolm smirked pertly and, recovering his coordinates, headed briskly towards the luggage carousel. A long workday in the Pasadena software development center awaited him.

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Anthony pressed redial mechanically on his cellular phone the minute he stepped inside the gate after his red-eye flight landed from New York in Los Angeles. On the other line was his new manager enveloped by a large vintage red leather chair in a posh lower Manhattan office, verbally coercing Anthony to start his new position as soon as possible. Anthony, with one hand casually sratching his sleepy head, quipped with confidence, "Listen, John, the mini-break between jobs was part of our negotiated deal. The drones ... I mean my clients will survive one way or another for two weeks without me." John, who exhausted every trick in the trade to recruit Anthony away from his rival security firm, was every bit as insistence, "The hell with them drones, Tony! We paid through our noses for you to bleed green for the firm. The market churns Monday to Friday, and an empty Tony's office a day is a million bucks unearned." Anthony chuckled at the half-praise, half-blackmail insinuation, "Don't think I don't appreciate your appraisal, but even a hangman needs a breather once in a while. Besides, I am within Blackberry range in case of emergencies. I am out, John. See you next Monday," Anthony flipped his phone inside his carry-on and let out a loud yawn as he stretched his arms skyward. Dressed in jeans and a loose-fitting navy blue polo-shirt--a refreshing change from the dreary charcoal business suits he wore during his 60-hour workweeks on Wall Street, Anthony's hands had no wedding bands. Instead, his right ring finger was burdened with the weight of his scratched and weathered college ring, reminding him the bygone era of simpler times on the occasions that he serendipitously glanced at it, as he did just now. A quick impulse woke his half-dormant mind, and Anthony narrowed his eyes and scanned like an eagle through the bustling morning travellers walking to and fro. "That big nerd Malcolm should arrive 'bout the same time," Anthony thought to himself, "Ah, hell. I will tease him at dinner. I need a nap." He marched with his carry-on luggage to the rental car center by the exit.

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Luther checked his watch after he guided an elderly woman walking gingerly to the clinic's exit. Luther started his office early on Mondays, as older folks always found new aches and pains over the weekends and were eager to have Luther attended to them bright and early the following day. In response, Luther was more than happy to accommodate their sometimes persistent and demanding requests. After all, this was why he became a doctor--to care for the sick and the old, and besides, he could use the money to undo the mountain of student loans he accumulated during college and medical school. Is this the fruit of his labor after years of burning midnight oil and dissecting cadavers? Is this the perpetual and unchanging state of his life from this moment onwards? Luther stared after the patient in deep thoughts as she paced slowly away. "Doctor So, are you ready for your 9am?" Nurse Nancy spoke from the reception desk, waking Luther from his mental occupation. "Yeah ... yes. Send the next one in," Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Luther smiled embarrassingly at his wife at he returned to his office. Nancy and Luther met in medical school and got married soon after Luther's graduation. Nancy, a tall slender and good natured woman with pertly cut short black hair, was the morning sunshine to Luther's night serenity. "Oh, and I need to .... " He began to speak as he stepped inside his office. "I know, get you outta here by 6pm for your dinner date, right? Don't think I'd forget the long-awaited reunion of the three musketeers! Or was it the three stooges?" Nancy laughed heartily as she returned to her work. Luther bumped his head as the office door closed.

Fall Semester: Part 5, Deep Winter

The wind howled with a screeching scream; the heavenly sky was covered with menacing dark clouds that forever blacked out the mid-day sun. Snow had turned wet and heavy, falling down intermittently like Autumn rain, weighting down on each passerby like a rusty medieval coat of armor. Bare trees, striped of their Fall glory, bearing the daily punishment of harsh wind and frigid frost, bent low to mutter their misery to the frozen land. In mid-December, the winter had turned into a cynical old man on his last stand, unleashing his furious anger and thundering his soliloquy on the emptiness and meaninglessness of life and the cruelty of fate.

It was final exam week for the students in St. Stephen's, and everyone was gathering their last strand of energy and concentration for one last push for academic excellence before the start of the long-awaited Christmas vacation. For many, this meant the reunion with loving families during the most joyful season after months of separation, of isolation and quiet struggle in the microcosmic world of teens versus teens. It was a time of peaked anxiety and anticipation.

Joseph and Ben exited the examination room with long sighs of relief. It was their last exam -- Canadian history, and after weeks of force-feeding names of sparsely populated cities and shanty towns, dates of regional significant events, and persons of local interest like William Lyon Mackenzie King and Pierre Elliott Trudeau, they could now put aside the historic scripts of the young immigrant country and look forward to a return to the broader world of civilization, one where the warmth and richness of loving families awaited. Stepping outside into the piercing winter day, desolated by the many already departed boarders, it somehow did not feel unbearably cold; rather, only a breath of freshness representing the imminent start of a new order lingered. "I guess this is it," Ben exhaled summarily, "So long, Deifenbaker, or whatever the hell his name was." Joseph smiled in equal relief.

Suddenly, a tightly packed snowball hit Ben squarely in the face, sending his glasses to the ground and knocking his fragile body backwards. "Haha, Got'em!" Louis stood behind a bush and screamed victoriously in a mischievous smile. Ivan and George were not far behind. "Scram, you worm. You are not the one we want," Ivan spoke in a low, threatening tone. "Run along now, Ben. It's not your fight," Joseph commanded his only ally and turned towards his fateful nemesis. Reluctantly, Ben picked up his glasses and ran towards the dorm.

"I've been waiting for this," Ivan continued. "What's with you, huh? Proud 'n full of righteousness. Show your allegiance, Joseph. You follow me and I will let you walk." Ivan fleshed a look of sinister supremacy, staring at his smaller peer in arrogance. Louis and George, circled Joseph slowly like a pack of wolves and cracked their knuckles in anticipation of the upcoming demolition.

Joseph paused, looked around and somehow found strength within himself. He stared back at his larger foe. "I don't even know you, Ivan. I never did and I never will." Joseph spoke in a barely audible voice. In doing so he sealed his own fate.

"Well said, Joseph. But you ain't perfect and you'll never be. We'll show ya." Ivan lunged forward like a gazelle and launched a right jab at Joseph's left shoulder. Defenseless, Joseph collapsed to the ground in sharp pain. Ivan landed his knees on Joseph's chest with his tremendous weight and threw a well practiced left-right combination at Joseph's cheeks. Blood soon streamed out of Joseph's nose. Caressing his right hand with his left, Ivan stood up and uttered coldly, "Finish him." Louis and George moved in like hungry vultures ready to devour their dying prey. Soon, countless punches and kicks landed with the falling snow on every part of Joseph's body. Hugging his head with his arms, Joseph curled involuntarily like an innocuous baby. In the distant, a large black bird circled a tall leafless Maple, let out a sorrowful scream and flew away.

The deed was completed; Louis and George got up panting and heaving like tired animals from their free-willed act of violence. Ivan spit on Joseph's face as he muttered these words, "Remember your measly role in the great pyramid of food chain, fool. And remember me." The gang departed, leaving Joseph lying helplessly on the ground, trying hard to breath on the snow smeared with a Christmas shade of red.

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Ling-lai and Wah-hong arrived at Joseph's dorm early evening. Ling-lai could not recall the last time Wah-hong had driven so fast, or spoke so little during a long drive. Running to the infirmary, they found Joseph lying motionlessly on the bed heavily wrapped staring blankly at the ceiling. Housemaster Mr. Harrison was strolling back-and-forth at his side with spastic, jittery movements, looking troubled and puzzled. "Mr. and Mr. Chang, thank you for coming in a hurry. We found Joseph lying outside Building Six ... don't worry, the nurse said there is no internal bleeding or broken bones. It would be a good idea to check with a doctor tomorrow, however..."

Wah-hong and Ling-lai stared at their son, unable to believe that before their eyes laid their beloved son, bruised, battered and disfigured, in the very school they had chosen with the very best intentions.

Uneasy with the awkward silence, Mr. Harrison said, "Mr. Chang, I assure you that the incident is not racially motivated. Our school has no history and tolerance of such bigotry."

"I ask you sir, what relevance does that have now with my son lying on the bed in pain?" Wah-hong could not withhold his anger and confronted the Housemaster.

"Let's just go home Wah-hong. It's Christmas." Holding back tears, Ling-lai helped Joseph up and gathered his belongings. The snow continued to fall hard outside, as the sky grew dimmer by the minute. The white flakes, danced and twinkled under the street lights in seemingly well rehearsed and coordinated patterns, reminded all that there was beauty to be found in the worst of weathers. After loading Joseph's luggage in the trunk, Wah-hong steadily pulled the family Accord away from the driveway and headed towards their humble home in Scarborough. Lying in the back with blankets covering his wounded body, Joseph looked outside at the moving scenery upside down. The snow hit the windshield in odd and unusual angles as the car swirled, imparting nature's authentic imprints on the see-through canvas. "Hey, it's Christmas outside," Joseph spoke as he looked up the sky. Ling-lai and Wah-hong listened attentively. "Merry Christmas," Joseph said. Wah-long drove away silently.

Fall Semester: Part 4, First Snow

In the still of the night, it happened. The yellowing green grass, long disfigured with frozen mud stomped countless times by soccer cleats and desperately yearning for a makeover, received a sanctification of pure white that drifted slowly and noisily from Heaven. The first snow always descended unexpectedly without warning, bringing along its definitive wintry character, strong and silent. Light as feather, each ghostly flake, crystallized into an intricate hexagonal pattern designed by angels, drifted here and there until settling haphazardly on a chilled tree branch or an exposed ledge, leaving behind a faint but personal signature. As the young boarders dreamed with boundless imagination in their sleep, the powder snow, overjoyed and free-willed, continuously sought out every corner on the earthly world under the pitch-black sky, each claiming his own territory. When Joseph woke slowly from his restful sleep, the bedside window revealed the long awaited and captivating view of a winter wonderland. No matter how many years he had previously witnessed, the annual christening of his universe was always breathtaking.

Deep into the heart of the Fall semester, the first snow brought the boarding house renewed energy and spirit, and as the youngsters headed towards the dinning hall for breakfast, they bounced and hopped and skipped, eager to leave behind the first footprints on the white welcoming carpet rolled richly under their feet. Joseph and Ben approached the dinning hall starry-eyed, mesmerized by the new backdrop in nature's theatre. Gathering the white crystals in their hands from the sidewalk, the powder composition was too light to form snowballs, so they simply threw them playfully onto each other's head, like rice thrown during wedding ceremonies to shower the new bride with a lifetime of blessings and happiness.

"Boy, Stephen King will have a field day writing 'bout this setting. Imagine: mischievous boys trapped away from home in an old English boarding school, teens daily battling forces of nature and the animal in each other, first snow bringing new danger and intrigue ... so fresh and ... creepy," Ben muttered as melted snow dripped onto his forehead.

"and beautiful. Nature is neither good nor evil--that's man's talk--it is just as simple as it looks, beautiful beyond words," Joseph reflected out loud to himself. Ben looked at his companion dumbfounded.

In the historic dinning hall, where clans' emblems were proudly displayed on the far wall, proclaiming achievements and excellence of a bygone era, Joseph and Ben sat at their usual seats in the corner, looking out to the ceaseless falling snow outside. The high wood chairs, each carved with the name of an alumni of yesteryears who had since achieved greatness and donated generously, seemed to mock the youngsters cynically, saying they had long seen enough of the wind and the rain and the snow in their times, that nothing was new under sun anymore. Yet Joseph and Ben, in their naive innocence, ate their breakfast in simple exhilaration, conjuring possible implications of the gentle powder in their version of the enclosed school community.

"Hey, bookworm, how 'bout some more sug'r for ya cereal, eh?" Louis suddenly sneaked up from behind and dumped a handful of snow in Ben's cereal bowl. It splashed milk onto Ben's shirt and face, causing Ben to pull back reactively, bumping his head on the back of the high chair. In the distance, Ivan's and George's laughter could be heard. "They don't teach ya to put snow in cereal in them books, eh? What a shame," George spoke sarcastically.

The commotion soon caught the attention of the teacher on breakfast duty, who approached quickly and spoke in an assumed air to no one in particular, "What's with the racket? What's goin on 'round here?"

"Mr. Stuart, Joesph was there the whole time. He should know," George spoke matter-of-factly, standing a few feet away like an innocent bystander. During the brief exchange, Louis had already sneaked out of the dining hall deftly without notice. "Joseph, explain yourself. What happened?" Mr. Stuart inquired impatiently. His tired face, burdened by heavy spectacles, reeked of petty annoyance. "Nothing's the matter, sir ... just having breakfast," Joseph spoke calmly in an even tone, sending a reassuring glance to Ben. "Just finish your breakfast and go. You have chapel at 8:30," Mr. Stuart turned and walked away.

Ivan observed the unfolding of the events with great curiosity and interest. He walked up, stared at Joseph and Ben for an instant, and then said, "You could have ratted Louis out and I wouldn't have give a damn. So don't expect me to thank ya," Ian spoke nonchalantly. Joseph replied without turning his head, "Ben and I just wanta grab breakfast, Ivan. We don't mean no trouble." Ivan bent down slowly and whispered in Joseph's left ear, "You say your time has not come. The time will come, and I will surely be there to witness." He joined George waiting at the door and departed.