To Be A Father

"Say 'Daddy' for me."


"Dud dud..."


"Da..."


"Du..."


"Dee...:


"Dih."


"Daddy."


"Didi."


***

It was a cold autumn night as I was walking home to my flat near the school where I am working as an assistant teacher. The weather isn't as cold yet as I thought it would be, in this far-fetched East Coast city where I now live. A wind blew, rippling the khaki Burberry cloak I'm wearing. After all this time, I'm still not used to wearing a lot of clothes. But that doesn't mean that I don't like it.

Taking my PhD wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. My work is lighter than what I'm used to, and my studies are, at this point, still bearable. I also study more than I used to when I was taking my BS and MS. Perhaps, it's because of the environment. The competitive air in the classrooms. Perhaps.

I reached the door to my apartment. It's a simple detached house with a small and yet empty porch. I earn a lot more now - I can afford to have this house all to myself. I took my keys from an inner pocket, and unlocked the front door.

I turned on the lights and placed my things on a table. I've got some essays to check later, and I need to read for an exam coming two days from now. But before I settle down to my desk and work, I need something else. Something else to get me started. I turned on my player.

Listening to the music of my favorite bands, I am taken back in time. Taken back to those days in the Philippines when I was but a shadow of the person I am now. I've gained weight, for one thing, and became well... more good-looking than  I was before. My hair is a lot nicer now, though it requires a significant number of minutes in front of the bathroom mirror for it to be set. I dress well (thanks to LE), and I've gained more confidence.

I gaze upon the picture frames I've set up on a side table. There's a picture of my family - mom, dad, and David - back at home. They're doing better now, and in a year or less, I will be able to pay in full our house in Las Pinas. I gaze longingly on them, wondering what they are doing this time on the other side of the world. I checked myself from becoming too emotional, so I moved on the next picture frame which is... empty.

I stared longer on this blank photo, listening to Dolores O'Riordan sing her heart away.

I took a peek at the spare bedroom that I have. I imagined the room to have colorful walls instead of the plain beige they are now. I imagined the ceiling to have glow-in-the-dark stars arranged in constellations (and Voldemort's mark -a skull with a snake tongue lurking on the far corner.) In my mind, I see the shelves filled with colorful books, the cabinets bursting with educational toys. I pulled the drawers and saw children's clothes, predominantly green. I sat on the edge of the bed, turned on a night lamp, and gazed upon the face of my child, sleeping on the bed, a story book lying opened by his side.

I held his hand and thought of how I'd raise him. He'll be smart. Active. He'll be talented, and will play the guitar. He'll play basketball (or baseball) with his cool friends. He will graduate school with honors, and I will always be invited to go up the stage to pin hand him awards or certificates of some such achievement.

He'll be better looking than I am. He'll be healthy. I'd make sure he gets all the nutrients he needs in the right amounts (like preparing a chemical solution.) He'll be tall, taller than I am. He will have black hair, and no pimples. He'll be loads more good-looking than I am. Girls will fall all over for him.

I imagined holding his hand as he slept, letting him feel how much I care for him. I want him to have what I never had. I want him to feel what I've never felt.

I'll do everything for my son - my blood - an extension of my own being.

The phone rings, and the small hand I am holding vanishes into thin air. The bright colors of the room fading into the drab colors they really were. I stood and rushed to answer the phone.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hey Bry, it's me. I just want to clarify some things about today's lesson. I hope you don't mind?"

I smiled then, realizing who it was. "Sure thing. Why don't you drop by by 8 while I shove down some dinner first. Or do you want to eat here?"

"Actually, I am just about to eat, too. Wanna join?"

"Umm... okay. That sounds nice. I didn't know you can cook."

"Oh (laughs) it's not me. It's (naming a nearby diner)."

"Ha! (laughs). I thought so. See you in a bit, then."

"Alrighty. Uh, and dude, no need to bring your books, I just borrowed some really good ones from the library."

"Cool. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Okay, thanks. Take care."

"Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone, feeling happy and useful.

"Daddy?"

I stood still for a few seconds, then turned and walked towards the door, fetching my cloak on the way.

"Daddy?!"

I turned a deaf ear on the imaginary child. My imaginary son. I'll find the happiness I can find in the path I chose.

"Daddy, wait."

Now I can hear tiny footsteps following me. I looked back and glared at the child, banishing him.

"Go away, son." I said quietly, and walked on.

As I was closing the door, I saw my son totter back to his room, vanishing even before he reached his destination. This is the path I chose, son. I'm sorry but I'll find all the happiness I can with this.

I walked on, willing the crisp wind to clear away my tears.

I may not have a son anymore, but I will have a baby.

And with that, I walked faster towards my chosen destination. No looking back, Bry. No looking

back.