Friday, May 15, 2009

X's and O's

I was eleven, and I can still remember the very sounds of your ring spinning wildly on our wooden floor as you threw it at Dad and told him boldly that you were finished.

Slowly, I chose to increase the flow in the water and purposely clamp the dishes pretending that I did not hear the most painful words that has woven itself deeply into my memory. I took deep breathes and thinking that this was one of the many times you'd make me pack my clothes quickly in garbage bags and move out of yet another house.

Finished.

The next day the sun's rays woke me; to this day.. though that seems theatrical and visually appealing I think I woke up far before the sun decided to rise. It was a feeling at the pit of my stomach that I have yet to encounter a life changing day in my life. But it was not like any other change, I knew that it far beyond the fear of braces, more than the fear of another new school and unfortunately more than another 3 years being tossed at the Philippines at the care of my grandparents.

Eventually a quiet figure blocked the morning sun, and it no longer felt warm in every curve of my face. My room has never felt more cold, once the door had been closed. As she lay beside me, I reached over and buried my face in her arm and crossed my arm over the womb that once carried my very existence. For this, I do not remember the word-to-word.. but I do remember that I have never cried so passionately in my life even if she lay beside me in silence. In time she filled me with rehearsed explanations of her reasonings for the separation, furthermore why she wanted to make my dad leave. And it dawned on me, that even a straight A student since I entered private school will never be enough to grasp the concept of separation. And at that very moment, I let go of her and wanted nothing but run as far as I could. So I did.

That very night, my dad entered the house right on time at 6:06 p.m.. But today, there wasn't hello for me, Billy or Kevin. It was straight into his room. Loud whispers became echoing voices and it was our cue to hide in our rooms and watch television. Still, being at the other end you can make out every word.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Now, I decided to convince Billy and Kevin that it was time for their routine bubble baths, but a little earlier than their usual time. I did so in the hopes that earlier on the day, like me, that hopefully the sound of the overpowering water and moving objects would distract them from the growing voices. As the water slowly filled, and they sat in anticipation, I cried beside the bath tub. But I didn't want them to see that I could probably produce more water in this sitting then that bath tub can capacitate. So I buried my face in my hands. The water filled in the bath tub, and even more in my eyes.

Weeks that soon turned into months later and the nights felt longer. It was the repeated act, over and over again. Until one night ...it became so horrid that it was us three in an empty bath tub, in the dark hands covering our ears so tightly. Together, we all cried in fear. What happens now? The two people we love most in our lives were yelling at the top of their very lungs, throwing what seemed to be everything existent in that room. Except now, there are sirens accompanying the battle. The officer opened the door and escorted us out safely, and I caught a glimpse of the war so nasty ..that they needed authority to intercept their paths against one another.

Water couldn't help us now. The sirens couldn't help us now. All I wanted was for the night to end.. only to realize that by the end of this very night I had to say goodbye to my most favorite person in the whole entire world and that by law he was no longer able to come within almost 200 ft of my brothers and I. He cried to me, hugging me so firmly and told me that he was sorry. I couldn't even breathe, swallow and I didn't even care. Now, all I wanted was this moment to never end thinking at that very moment that this could have possibly been our very last.

Months blew by, and I remember so clearly walking up the path to school and my dad parked close by in his car just waiting to catch the 20 seconds that it took us to walk up the path into our school yard. I remember wishing with every part of me that I could just say hello or even to hug him, just once. And I asked her repeatedly, and always I received no answer. And I knew, that even if he wanted to do the same, that she had the power to take us away, forever.

Though she did put up a strong act; for the sake of her children and most importantly for herself.. She slowly began to throw her life away; quit her job, and began to rely on cigarettes, alcohol and online chat to keep her sane. Now she barely stepped out in the light of day, living quietly in her room as if she was all alone in the world. At this point, I grew up 20 times faster ensuring that we had food to eat on the table, a sandwich for lunch and clean clothes to wear. Walk to Mac's convenience store at 1 am because they would have no milk for breakfast. Walk to a nearby pizza place at 1 am because my mom had nothing to eat for dinner and refused our soup and eggs. We had no one.. and we felt like we had nothing.

One day I was ill and I couldn't move from bed. I crawled from bedroom to kitchen, I crawled from bedroom to washroom.. and I heard discreet footsteps in the hallway. So I stood up on my feet, and came face to face with someone I feel like I have never seen before. She decided to speak to me. That, was a first for many weeks that passed by. She decided to tell me that she was going to go on vacation, and that my dad will be responsible for my care for a whole month. Although confused, I was happy.. happy to now spend more than 20 seconds on a school day and rare weekends with my father.

She was ready for her flight, packing heavier than necessary and the goodbye was not as hard at the time. I thought to myself, three weeks. It will only be three weeks. Billy, Kevin and I marked it with a O around February 22 and vowed that we would mark every X of everyday that passed by. So we did.. each day with anticipation, missing her terribly with every second, hour, and day that went by.

One day, we were finally able to put an X over the O. The phone was silent all day. We sat by the door, taking turns to look out the window. We stared right at the clock and eventually.. we all fell asleep doing so. We woke up. But strangely we never cried. We never cried because we never understood. We would ask our dad, aunts and uncles.. and I never saw the distinct look in their eyes that they knew.. that she would never come back.

---

My mother was diagnosed with clinical depression.
To this day, I remember every conniving word and detail she strategically inputed in our brains in hopes of filling ourselves with hatred for our father. I remember her paranoia. I remember her ventilating about how the world was against her. I remember when she threatened that we will be put into foster homes. I remember how bruised my face was one night that I did not make her the right food.

I remember her absence in every important day of my life, Billy's and Kevin's.
I remember every tear I shed on a mother's day.
I remember every christmas with no present "from Mom".
...
I remember my father retelling his conversation with you when he came and offered you your own house, your divorce papers and your custody for us, all three of your children. And you refused.

He asked you why, was it because you were happy?
And you confidently said yes.
And what did my father tell you?

How can you be happy not being able to see your children for all these years. I've been here three weeks and I have to call them everyday, because I miss them. Because what makes me happy, is to see my children live everyday.

So I say this to you.
I'm finished.
I've buried all these memories.
There are no more X's and O's.. because we know.

We know you're never coming back.
You ridicule me with my words, and tell me that I think I know everything..
or that I speak as if i'm the adult.
As far as I'm concerned, I became an adult since the day you left.







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