Honesty: The Comeback Of Old Issues

The History

When I was growing up, I had a tendency to forget that I was not living with my real father. Papa was like that to me as well. Many times before, when he was introducing me to his friends, he always forgot that I am not his biological son. It was great.

He had a secret story. Now it was no longer a secret. Before he met Mama, he was already married. When he left his legal wife, she was already pregnant. And that kid, as he grew up, was so determined to search for his father. That thing I perfectly understood. There were couple times before that I overheard Mama and Papa were talking about the legal child, because I am the 'illegal' child? Err. I thought it was just fine. If ever that kid would find Papa, wow, instant brother or sister.

Then that kid found him, Papa. I could still remember that night when he (Yes, it's an instant brother. Interestingly we are of the same age.) was there in our living room who couldn't even let five seconds pass by without looking out through the window to see Papa coming home. When Papa finally arrived and very surprised to see an instant grown-up son waiting for him, the show curtains started to pull open.

When that happened, I thought I was happy for them. I thought I was happy that I left the house and strolled around in our neighborhood alone while thinking of my biological father, Mr. Yim. Strange it might seem but I thought I missed him, Mr. Yim. But something was there inside me. Something that was so strong that I could not just ignore. A strong kind of feeling that it felt like I wanted to puke. That time I didn't know what was it. One thing was sure. It was not a good thing. It was like…an omen feeling. A warning. A bad warning. Instantly, my defensive mechanism was alarmed. I didn't think it was all about father-stealing, or worse, family-stealing.

When I got home, there were new instant plans laid before me. Interesting plans but they did not sound so favor of me. I knew I had to do a big adjustment. We needed to work things out. Especially that we had a new family member.

Things at first were just doing fine…on the surface. It was boiling up deep inside. Not my inside. But it was his inside. I didn't know that he hated me so much. Don't ask me how I found out about it. He was thinking that I stole his father. Hello, I was two-year old when his father raped my mother? I know saying all these here seems to be not a good idea. But I feel like I'm gonna explode if I don't do anything. It's too way painful that holding these in, it could kill me. Clueless I was, he was making his wicked plans to kick my ass out of the house. (Sorry for the word but that seems to be appropriate to express the emotion here. Forgive me, please.) Things got so complicated, too way complicated, that I could not give the details here. One thing I could tell here, though. I would never let anyone, not him, to take my family away from me. The war started. (Writing these here, surprisingly it can still hurt me.)

One night, Mama had a serious fight with him, my step-brother. There were screaming at each other, blaming each other. It was never my mother's fault. She didn't know Papa was already married. I was trying to pretend I was not hearing them. If only I could shut my ears that not even the tiniest sound could get in, I would do that. But I couldn't. And I was carefully listening, preparing myself to run if ever it was needed. And my feet found the strength to run. We fought. I was so determined to see so much blood dripping by his face. I felt like a wild animal got escaped from a long-time cage of pains and many more pains. Then I saw Papa who recently arrived from his work, standing by the door. That very moment, my knees got instantly weak. All of the sudden, I felt like a kid who was caught of stealing. Guilt washed over me. I couldn't move. I did not know what to do, or what to say. Do I have to say sorry? What for? He, my step-brother, he packed his things with amazing haste. Before he left, he said something I would never forget. "I could live without anyone, not even a father, unlike some father-stealers in this house!" And he ran away. Papa ran after him. When Papa left the house that very night to look for him, I knew I lost the war. I was a big stupid loser.

I thought that was over.

The Now

Recently I read again his (My step-brother.) text messages in Papa's cellphone. The first time I read his message, I was numb. I didn't know how to react. There were many questions running in my head. How long they have been communicating with each other? Does Mama know? What is his intention? Is he coming back? And many more questions.

Whenever people from work are asking me when would I relocate, I couldn't tell them. I couldn't tell them that I couldn't leave the house because I am protecting my interest, my family. While I have this fear that I might lose again this time. I couldn't just leave the house now. But for how long? When will I have my own life?

When I asked Gracia to do 'it' and she said no, I was broken. Two things. The emotional security and the human need. You know what I'm saying? Every time I feel this beastly need, it's either I rush to get married, or…. It is not the right reason to get married. I know that. My revelation. Signing out.