stopping fate

part 8: talk with dad

"Dad..?"

"Hmm?"

One of the best thing about dad is that when I say 'dad' he automatically alerts his body, thus, alerting his whole heart and soul for me. He always makes that little jerk as if he hears the first word spoken in earth. Always. My mom told me about him having this mild anxiety attack inside the labor room when I had my first cry. He paced a lot that day. Now, he somehow manages a bit of that anxiety and turns into an alert button that if pressed, his body jerks both anxiety and openness for me. Funny thing, he is not really alert in the kitchen.. or brewing coffee.

He leans to me as he chews his asparagus stick that i steamed awhile ago after I got home from school, and ready to hear me out. Just like that. What will happen really--if I tell him that His favorite Ben confessed to me? Will he swallow hard before or after that big asparagus? That would be funny. Being open to dad is as easy as 1, 2, 3, or A,b,c. After that incident in fifth grade when went from school bleeding, and dad offers to buy me some napkins and smiles to me as if it's the most natural thing to do in spite of him being a man-- i took all my shyness towards my dad into the trash and face him clean and honest.

I'll ask. Safe mode first. No name. No Ben.

"Dad, how did you know when that person is the one?.. Like,. uhm.. for life?"

He shifted from comfortability to uncertain posture.  He doesn't wink, well, not that i see. He closes his eyes and breathes as if he just wants to do that before he opens his mouth. A second after he puts down that asparagus he started to speak.

"Wow..  for life?" He became sad saying those words and I think I knew why. Of course, it's not f-- he continues. "Maybe if the feeling is real and pure and.. unconditional, it will be for life. But, baby, not everything--or in this matter, not everyone is for life. They come and go. They stay if you want them, they go if you let them. And sometimes.. life's a little harder that even if you don't want them go, they just go. So, in connection to 'how did you know'-- i believe, you'll just know."

"I'll just know--ahm, I mean.. you'll just know." I nod. I didn't confirm that it is me.

"But definitely, i know that all this, pertains to you." He said it like a fact. Like an affirmative thought. This guy. I surrender.

"Dad, ok, I'll just know?! How am i suppose to believe that?"

"Now were talking." He smirks. I smile. "Baby, as much as I wanted you to be as the child who hugs me surprisingly anytime I went from work, I begin to realize how things aren't the same anymore. You're a lady now, and it sucks."

"Haha, It sucks?" 

"That-some teenager say these days isn't it?"

"No, not for you dad."

"Hey--"

"Okay..so.. I'll just know. If he's the one, I'll just know?." I silently chuckles. You just don't simply say, 'you'll just know.' You will have to know how. You will have to do some things to know how, maybe with some steps with bullets or numbers, or something. A math problem is being solved because a certain formula is used. A pea experiment have some scientific testing before it really gets to work and multiply.  

"Yup, but don't fret my girl, the wind will whisper."  You don't say? He knows the famous wind?

So, I'll have to believe that 'I'll just know' and listen to Sarah's famous wind? 

"Oh yeah.. The famous wind?, I said mockingly. He appears clueless.

"Huh?" He was dead serious. 

"Nothing. It's just that.. these days, I got caught by winds, it gets chilly walking around." He nods not satisfied.

Silence. How am I continue with that. Dad is close to finish his meal when he starts to speak again. I got caught up by the sudden change of atmosphere given by those serious, longing eyes.

"Avellana. Did you know how I got your name?"

"Hm. no dad. I've been thinking about that too when mom is still alive, but now that you brought  it up, I am really intrigued." Back from grade school, my teacher gave a small assignment that each of us will ask our parents about how they got our name. I remember being sick  that night and when I woke up the next morning, my mom said she called my school and excused me because I'm feverish. I forgot about the assignment and went to school the day after that and continue being a good kid. But with a little mind-forgetting symptom. I never got to ask my mom, or my dad that day. Until now. But, this time it's only my dad  who can provide answers to my childhood question. 

My question gives my dad a sudden lift of happiness, looks up as if it hides the answers. I momentarily know he's not looking directly but beyond those gray ceiling. It's as if asking heaven or my mom, for permission. He smiles. Well.. I guess, permission granted. Thanks mom.

"Hazelnut."

"Hazelnut?"

"Avellana."

"Me. Hazelnut." It shoots inside my mind millisecond after as it runs down to my heart's core. I gasp.

"The moment I saw some hazelnut rolls all over my shoes that Sunday morning at the market, I knew instantly that the girl I saw running towards me is the one."

---

to be continued.

*remember hazelnut? hmm..

mwah