Say The Word

Chapter 31- Mmmm, Feelings

  While my world was on fire and in utter chaos, I was on the sofa next to papa pretending I had everything under control (Right, my tears were totally not about to fall, what do you mean?). Papa did make me dinner. He made me the only thing he knew how to make ─ boiled pasta drenched in canned tomato sauce with random vegetables he could find. It was simple and straightforward, no complicated steps needed, just like papa's personality. Some French comedy papa rented was playing on the television. Truth be told, that night was the first time I had seen the television turned on, and papa sitting down, laughing at every movement and every line said by the characters. He looked so relaxed for once in such a long time it was almost weird. True, his eye bags were at the worst I had seen them, but in a kind of weird way, I felt as if he was trying to comfort me in his way, which is trying to get me to do something with him.

Despite his efforts, however, my brain would not stop bugging me. With every passing second, my brain reminded me to do my revision for my O levels for at least a thousand times. There were many attempts to crawl back to my room...that had failed.

First it was ice cream. Papa literally asked me to stay where I was and brought out a tub of family-size ice cream. It would have been normal if it was not papa doing it. In my seventeen years of living with him, that was the first time he allowed AND participated in the mindless eating of ice cream. He did not limit the intake of ice cream like he would before the divorce (Pretty sure this is what they meant when they say divorce changes you or something like that, I do not really know). Every other attempt to leave after that was responded with a "Shh, best part" in French.

One minute I was still contemplating if I should just get up and go study, the next the credits were already rolling and tired soft snores came from papa. His head was tilted to his left shoulder, bringing his entire upper body to that direction.

'Finally, time to get some studying done before you fail this test...or maybe you could cry some more...or do both at the same time,' my thoughts hummed. Instead of listening to it and stuffing more information into my last three brain cells right away, I decided to get a blanket for papa.

The wooden floor beneath my feet let out quiet creaks every few steps even when I tried put on as little pressure onto them as possible. Soon, I was face to face (or door) to papa's closed room. I turned the heavy handle and the door squeaked open. Pitch black greeted me as expected, the only light behind me, illuminating from the stairs.

A flick on the switch lit up the entire room, papa's messy desk at one end, his equally messy bed on another. There was no other furniture besides a shelf packed with his thick medical books.

His note-filled desk sparked my sense of curiosity, making me inch closer for a better look. Books for reference were splayed open; some tucked under another, some overlapped the others a little. Lying on top of the pile was an open pen and a book full of scribbled notes. There were words that I recognised from Biology class, but a lot of them were just alphabets put together to form something I did not understand. The unpleasant feeling of not knowing what was in front of me took over me, directing me back to my initial intention to be in papa's first place.

Picking up his blanket, a pen fell out, hit the floor, and rolled under his bed. I got down and felt around aimlessly with my hand until I managed to pull out the pen. But the pen was not the only thing I fished out. If my curiosity was a spark just then, it was a full on explosion now. Cautiously, I picked up the book covered with worn down leather in front of me.

It seemed as though no matter how careful I was, a picture was meant to slip away from the pages of the book. Two students who looked around my age were in it. One person with his hair fiery red had his tie loosen, pierced tongue stuck out, eyes burnt with wild ambition. His arms slung around a person, who was so obviously taller than he was. His hair was not dyed, nor was his expression anything remotely extreme, unlike his companion. Glasses with the thickest frame sat on top of his nose bridge, hair neatly combed, and only showing a soft loving smile towards mot the camera, but the person beside him. Behind the picture, a message was left.

'Smile more, your dork. You're too cute not to smile! :)

-Leon, your partner in crime'

Who was who in the picture was clear. Vati did use to talk about how he used to have bright red hair and a tongue piercing, papa would usual shush him, telling him that he was a teacher who should not be making dyed hair and tongue piercing sound cool. Papa would get Vati rolling his eyes at him while telling his partner that he was no fun at all.

As if all my life I had always been a child of divorce, those seemingly surreal happy memories had only just been in my mind. It was not like I despised Vati after the divorce, I did not hate him because he wanted papa to sign the papers. I just disliked the fact that he cheated when he was the one who had taught me that being honest was important. Yet, he was the dishonest one with all his secrets and well-hidden feelings. A big part of me could not help but wonder how many parts of him that he had shown me was true, what he had lied to us about, and how he managed to keep a straight face after all those lies.

THUD!

My hair prickled every inch of my skin. The picture was hastily shoved back to where it fell out from and quickly arranged back to its original place. Gathering the bunch of blanket I had obtained, I scurried down the stairs, trying my best to muffle my hurried steps.

Papa was still asleep, yes. But he was flopped onto his stomach, face flat on the floor. In a way, I was speechless. I had no idea how to deal with the sight in front of me. All I knew was that he was exhausted and needed rest; the least I could do was make him as comfortable as possible. Gently, I coated him with the soft cotton blanket in hand. I ran back up the stairs (totally gracefully) to grab his pillow to support his neck.

Maybe...this is what a home is, taking care of each other, and I think I was starting to feel it.