But To Live Does Not Mean You're Alive (BoyxBoy)

Chapter Twelve

Christmas break has officially begun. Five more days to go and it’s Christmas Eve. People are getting increasingly busy. From decorating the facade of their homes up to the trips to the department stores and groceries for the most anticipated Year End sales, everyone has been helping to fill up the atmosphere with the holiday’s ambiance. In that case, exclude our house from everyone. Dad’s remained rigid about the last and most important holiday of the year. It’s supposed to be the time when families, no matter of what size, sit at one table together while enjoying the foods they cooked and laughing at the silliest memories they’ve yield as a family. It doesn’t have to be fancy. Not even the most expensive diamond could outshine the simple hugs and kisses from those who truly care about you.

But somehow, I think Dad’s got a point. We‘re not a whole family now, he doesn’t even consider me as his son anymore. I should just probably move on. I mean, it’s been four years since I last felt the real essence of Christmas anyway.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands as they got slightly wet from thinking about the best Christmas I’ve ever had or will ever have. It always makes me tear up uncontrollably whenever I think of the last Christmas I spent with my Mom. At that time, she had already been diagnosed of cancer. She used to go to the hospital frequently for treatments. Her weight incessantly dropped. Her glossy hair was falling off at an observably fast rate. I saw her lose all energy and it broke our hearts. Mom always forced a smile to let us know she was fine, but I knew what was going on. She was dying. I wanted not to believe it, but the truth won.

It was that time as well when I had my last glimpse of my old father. The father I used to know. He was strong, no doubt. He was always beside Mom, telling her that everything would be fine. He was always close to me, asking me to be strong as well. He did his best to comfort us both. I was not yet ready to stand up on my own. I would have been helpless without him. And he never failed me.

Mom insisted to be taken home. She didn’t want to celebrate Christmas Eve on a hospital bed. She wanted to feel the distinct warmth and comforts of our own home. The little wish was granted and her happiness was over-flowing. Her smiles and laughs were beautiful. It seemed like she was suffering from not a single traitor disease. At that Christmas we had a simple dinner. Dad struggled at the kitchen but he was able to pull it off with love driving his determination. He prepared all the dishes. He didn’t mind the hardships of being a man in the kitchen. His efforts were priceless.

After dinner, we settled down together on the couch watching Home Alone, Mom loved it so much. We laughed together gladly. At those very moments, we felt like we were facing no problems at all. We felt that everything was okay. But the feeling did not last long. They were all just for a while, temporary. The whole time was like fate’s way of telling its farewell to Dad and me. The happiness and strength we let Mom feel were like our last chance of saying ‘We Love You’.

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I wrapped my arms around me as I felt the chilly air enter my room. The nights’ temperatures are noticeably dropping, the breeze are colder and more pampering.

But no matter how everything seems to get chilly and relaxing, Dad’s head and behaviour remains fiery as ever. And just lately it has become a little surprising in a creepy way. I don’t need to mention much about the daily beatings for it’s always stayed on the same track. What I’m really scared about is Dad’s sudden and constant urges. I mean, for almost a week now, there have been several times when I would accidentally walk in to the living room with Dad getting cosy on the couch while watching sleazy and X-rated films or videos. The audio is beyond repulsive for my taste. Worse, sometimes I would see Dad slowly touching his private area underneath his pants. Such mental image would never fail to shiver my entire body, both inside out. It instantly made me puke the first time I witnessed it. It feels utterly disturbing or even way beyond that to catch your own Dad watching and doing these sorts of stuffs.