My vision began to blur as a film of tear coated my eyeballs. “Why are you doing this to me, Ma? Every time you come home, all you do is talk to Gary. You know I’m alone. You know I don’t have friends. And now I’ve lost you. I might as well be dead.” I grumbled.
“You are just so bloody stubborn! Go on. Go hang yourself.” She ended the conversation with such hurtful words.
With uncontrollable tears streaming out of my eyes, I ran into my room and slammed the door hard. I took out my journal and put in writing everything that had just happened. As I was doing so, I thought about my father;
I hate him. It is his fault all this had happened. It was his cruel gesture that caused this mess. How is it that he had the heart to do what he did? A divorce letter is not a birthday present. And he had the bloody cheek to say that it was a joke! He disgusts me.
I was hurt that he left me but I was more hurt that he had hurt my mother. For a woman who was immune to pain, who had gone through so many hardships in her life – she cried. For years she had been waiting for her 40th birthday, hoping for a change for the better, but instead, she was left with a dark memory.
And as for me, I lost a father and that was that. It didn’t matter much to me at that time because on that day itself, I gained love, from a boy who became my saviour. It is ironic how I could be so happy and devastated at the same time. But as much as I hate to admit it, there are times when I wish that my father did not leave. I missed sleeping on his stomach, hearing those mysterious noises in there. I missed running to him every time I had a fight with my mother. I suppose there were times that he did love me but his love was like chocolate -- a mere momentary pleasure that keeps you wanting more.
I am confused. I miss having a father and yet I hate mine so much that I constantly wish he was dead. I know I do not need a father but who doesn’t long for a perfect family? It gets to me sometimes when I leave “Father’s Name” blank on forms or when people ask, “Where’s your dad?” Although I do have a father, he plays no part in my life nor do I want him to. I am even considering changing my last name when I grow up so that when my name is on the shelves, he nor his family can take credit for my achievements. They had never truly cared about me. They only wanted to control my life with luxuries. But my pride is worth much more than that and they can never take it away from me.
And so it began, a new journey, in a family of two. So there are fewer Christmas presents, red packets for Chinese New Year, and fancy functions to attend. But there are also fewer screaming, nightmares, and tears. Not having a father may not be so bad after all. With every loss, there is a gain. Thus, with all fairness, I have not lost. In fact, I have gained something more worthwhile. I’ve gained passion in the things I do, endurance, and independence – things that would prepare me for the dog eat dog world that awaits me.
“I’m sorry, Ma, for shouting at you the other day.” I said as I approached my mother.
She took my hand and said, “Connie, you know I love you very much and that I’ll never give up on you. But right now, please just be patient with me. I’m trying my best to make things work.”
She took a moment and then continued, “Gary is helping me find a job and he’s temporarily supporting me financially. Unlike your father, he understands. And I hope you will too.”
As I smiled and hugged her, a tear rolled down my cheek and I felt a relief and I knew from then on that everything is going to be all right. I am going to be just fine.
After I pulled away from her, I asked her with a hopeful grin on my face, “Ma, since you have a boyfriend, can I have one too?”
“Don’t push it.”
( 945 words )
