January 13th, 2007. It’s 9:25am. The screen on Jessie’s phone flashes abruptly, catching her attention. It’s Janice.
“Jess, you going for the party at Amanda’s house?”
“Jan…will there be balloons? You know…erm…my phobia.”
“I know, I know. Dunno if there’ll be balloons but I’ll try to help you alright?”
“Mm…alright. See you on later at five.”
“See you later.”
Jessie meets Janice at the bus stop near Amanda’s house. As they walk in, Jessie’s face is a mix of nervousness and foreboding. Janice notices. Giving Jessie a reassuring hug, Janice whispers, “You’ll be alright. Don’t worry”. Jessie closes her eyes and nods.
October 1st, 2002. It’s 8am. Jessie asks her teacher for permission to leave the class. She walks out, unnoticed, as she did both years before this, while her classmates inflate balloons to celebrate Children’s Day. Once out of the P-3B classroom, she loses composure totally; she runs to the end of the corridor and sits on the stairs. She closes her eyes tightly and covers her ears with both hands.
Janice looks out of the P-3E classroom window, in the midst of inflating a balloon. She notices Jessie. Quickly tying her balloon, she, likewise, leaves her classroom and runs to comfort and accompany Jessie.
The best friends sit together on the stairwell for hours, until the celebrations end, while sounds of cheers, screams, laughter, and the bursting of many balloons surround them. Janice puts her arm around Jessie, while Jessie mutes all the sounds, particularly that horrible sound.
That sound: Blam! Bang! Squeak…bang! Rubber fragments go flying as students place their weight on colourful rubber orbs. These orbs, so horrible to Jessie, each give in to the pressure with an explosive ‘Bang!’
January 13th, 2007. It’s 5:09pm. They walk into Amanda’s place. Covering a large portion of the ceiling of the living room is a large clump of helium-filled balloons, with their ribbons hanging invitingly, begging to be tugged along.
As if for the sake of balance, almost the whole floor is covered with similar, large sixteen-inch balloons too. All the balloons are filled far larger than sixteen inches. The sum of all fears, indeed.
Janice is not at all surprised by Jessie’s reaction: Jessie freezes. Over three-dozen balloons squeak, rubber against rubber, almost intentionally. She almost turns to leave, but is thwarted by Amanda’s timely greetings.
Jessie forces a slight smile as she shakes Amanda’s hands, and then quickly puts her hands to her ears as she moves to one side of the door, surveying the alarmingly decorated interior. Janice, entering the house behind Jessie, grabs a couple of ribbons without Jessie knowing, and greets Amanda after Jessie does. Jessie turns to Janice after awhile, only to find her holding two large, floating rubber monsters.
“Jan! Why’d you take those? You said you’d help!”
“Trust me, Jessie. Don’t worry; follow me,” Janice whispers, while making sure to keep the balloons as far from Jessie as she can. She leads Jessie to a quieter side of the room, a side with fewer balloons.
Jessie shakes her head and buries her face in her hands. She can’t bear to look around; everywhere she looks, there are balloons: Ground. Ceiling. Floating around menacingly. She lets out a whimper, overwhelmed.
Janice takes Jessie’s hand and offers her the ribbon belonging to the smaller balloon. “Take this, Jessie. Trust me, you’ll be fine. You can overcome this.”
The metallic pink balloon bobs gently, sixteen inches of rubber and helium, as the ribbon changes hands. Jessie looks up, at Janice first, then at the balloon nervously. After a moment of indecision, she hesitantly ties the ribbon to her little finger. Despite this, Jessie still holds the balloon at a distance, nowhere near her face or ears.
Just as the both of them turn to sit down, a balloon pops from across the room. Jessie lets out a scream and jumps a little; she’s noticeably bothered by the pop, and her heart beats briskly; it feels like it’s beating in her throat, more than her chest. She subconsciously pulls the balloon down and hugs it, sobbing softly. Janice, ever the best friend, puts her arm around Jessie.
“C’mon Jess, be brave. You’re doin’ great,” Janice says, smiling at Jessie.
Before Jessie can reply, Amanda’s little brother enters the room. The little brat proceeds on a mini-bursting spree, bursting about four or five balloons at a go. Jessie doesn’t scream. She hugs her balloon tighter and closes her eyes.
Tears well up as the memory of how she became afraid of balloons floods back. Jessie begins to shake her head. Slowly at first, then faster. Faster. Her facial features become strained. The image of a clown, handing out free balloons, appears clearly in the blackness.
Many children surround the clown. Jessie remembers some pops. Some screams. Smiles. Laughter. Balloons.
Little Jessie stands among the children. She smiles at the thought of being able to get a balloon. The clown turns to her. The balloon, a pink one, is almost as big as her little head. The clown lowers it until it’s almost at her face. Little Jessie stretches her hands excitedly. Without warning, it bursts explosively in her face.
Little Jessie bursts into tears.
Tighter and tighter, she hugs the balloon. Balloons, when she opens her eyes. Balloons, when she closes them. Balloons, everywhere.
The balloon in her arms bursts with a thunderous “Bang!” She cannot take it any longer.
Unable to endure the mocking, teasing stares of dozens of balloons, Jessie runs out of the house, tears flowing uncontrollably, while Janice can only sit, quietly staring at the pink shards of rubber that was once, a balloon.
“I’ve failed,” Janice mutters. She pulls her balloon down and grips it with both hands. With all the strength she can muster, she brings both hands together in one swift, forceful motion.
“Bang!”
“I’ve failed you, Jess. I’m sorry.”
