The confirmation of how his father, DID, love him, just in a way he never, expected it, translated…
Before the elementary years, I’d stayed with my maternal grandmother, the doors of those countryside houses are useless, grandma told me, if we closed the door, and called aloud: “Open Sesame!”, then we can, push the door open, and get inside.
As I’d returned back to town to my parents’ home, opening the door, it’s not as, simple as, “open sesame”, it’s something, MAJOR. My father met the Japanese police officers coming to check, to see if we’d, hoarded the driftwood in secrecy, and, he became, very careful, of keeping the keys, the keys to our front door, only my mother and he had. On those half-day class days that I had during the elementary years, I’d often had to wait for over an hour at a time. One day, I’d found there was a steel-roof, makeshift place, a book rental shop, with the makeshift counter made from the stacked up jars of tea leaves, behind these tin cans, there were, the bookshelves as high as the ceiling. I’d followed an older girl from my neighborhood in, and saw thousands of volumes of comics available to me.
like this???
The locals in town would tattle, that time, I was, yanked out by the ears by my father out of the shop, the way he’d, yanked me out by the ears, was like how the wives caught their husbands cheating on them. My right ear felt the heat that day as I went home.
During that period of time, the redness of my ear never faded, I’d gotten reminded of it daily, but, I’d, found the planets of words in the universe of written words, they’d, twinkled on the shelves, called out to me, telling me to land. One day, I’d, finished reading ALL the books in the shop, and, time to get back to earth, my tiny little universe, disappeared, in a, sonic boom! I was, to return, back to that planet, where, NOBODY was accompanying me again!
Without the books to read, I’d, waited, for my father to come home, to unlock the door. I was already, in the sixth grade, about to hit puberty, I’d needed to go to the bathrooms, didn’t want to just do it anywhere, all I could do, was to, ring the doorbell like CRAZY, praying that maybe my father’s at home, sleeping. A long while later, nobody came, and so, I can only, start, running around outside, it’s said, that the sweat can, help get rid of our bodily fluids too. A few minutes later, I’d gone, and rung the doorbell again, knowing nobody will answer, just, ringing it, for, a false hope. Running made me hot, it’s too hot indoors too, did the door heard my pleas? There was light behind the door, maybe, it’s the deity on the shrine of the first floor coming into being, I’d, offered my faith to the light, prayed, that the door will, somehow, swing open, as the liquid in my body was about, to come all the way, out.
The heavens really worked, not long afterwards, my father finally showed up, after I’d, waited, for two whole hours, as I’d entered the house, that scent of thick smoke, a fog had, formed in the house then, the white smoke came through, almost, every single cracks, my father and I started, coughing hard, not knowing just, what’s happened, felt the smoke was, making our eyes, hurt, and that heat, came in, from our, pores.
We covered up our mouths and noses, there was, that spark in the thickness of the smokes, and we can’t, wave the smoke away, I’d passed through the thick white smoke, found the sparks from the fire, crackling on the elevator leading up to the second floor, with the old door bell fallen off the walls, the exposed wires caught fire, and the fire got to the other wires around it.
I’d mentioned to my father of how I’d, rung the doorbell every one to three minutes, he’d started screaming, and said that I was, responsible for this fire. He’d turned around, to look for a fire extinguisher, I’d, covered up my mouth and nose, worked up the courage, with the garbage clamp, attempted to, clip out that source of the fire, the doorbell, across the raging row of fire, as I was, stepping away out of that ring of fire, I’d, bumped into my father, he looked at me with that panic in his eyes, and then, SLAPPED me across the face, as the firefighters just came in, he’d told us, to evacuate out, as the fire extinguishing white powder is bad for us.
Afterwards, the firefighters were all, surprised how I’d, taken out the source of the fire, the doorbell, as they’d, patted my head light, and told me how courageous I truly was, I’d felt, a bit, embarrassed, back then, I’d, still, felt the heat from my father’s slap across my face, that numbness, the redness, as well as the firefighter’s palm, they all felt different in temperature, and textures to me. The following day, the neighbors commended me on my index power finger, and yet, the fact was, that the doorbell had been, chewed through by the bugs, weathered by the rain, the sun, because the wires were, exposed, and dangling out, how I’d, kept ringing it, causing the electricity to leak out, causing the sparks, but, the neighbors, they just, wanted to, embellish it.
That spark which was, caused by me, ignited my parents’ angry fires, for close to half a month, the lines from their eyes, extending to their ears, to the mouths, down to their, chins, all tightened by the day, as the fog from the wire that caught the fire dissipated, but my parent’s flames of anger still came at me, you can hear, the electric wire short-circuiting daily. My siblings spoke on my behalf, wanted to help me put out the blazes, but, they were also, burned, by that fire.
Back then, I’d, entered into their raging flames daily, to get down on my knees before them, to apologize profusely to them, as their flames burned up all around me, they’d told me to get out of their sights from time to time, I was burned to red in the face, to my tears rolling down my cheeks, but, I will, NEVER forget, how on that day of that fire, my father flew in a panic, ran into the fire inside the house, and, searched for me, bumping into me, then, he’d, slapped me across the face, and that slap made me realized, that no matter what sort of a trouble, how huge a fire I was in, he will, go into the blazes, to search for me, to drag my ass out.
And so, this, is a confirmation of how your father actually, DID, care for you, how he’d, loved you, maybe, you’d not felt that he’d, loved you before all of this happened, because he’s, always too strict, and whenever you’d done wrong or misbehaved, he’d, not spared you, but after that fire, you’d come to your senses that no matter what, you’re father is going to be there to save you, no matter how big a fire you’d, started or was, caught up in.
Life, the Obstacle Course 