Our Own Heaven

w r i t t e n   b y   D a r r e n   Y i p

Courtesy of Whitney Ng

There are three kinds of sinners: Those who kill, those who steal, and those who don’t obey their parents. Papa always said that all sinners go to hell. But he also said that God can forgive those who kill or steal if they pray for forgiveness. It’s only people who don’t listen to their parents who are never forgiven, and people like that go to a special place in hell because it is such a big sin.

            I believed him. It wasn’t hard; Mama died soon after giving birth to me when she tried to steal me and run away from home. Papa said she died because she didn’t listen to him, so that’s why God decided to punish her. God could have forgiven her for stealing me from him, he said. But Mama will still go to hell because she didn’t listen to him when he told her not to run away with me.

I was confused, so I asked why Mama was punished even though Papa wasn’t her parent. Papa then took down the big Bible from the wooden bookshelf and opened it. He pointed out a verse in it and read it out to me, but I didn’t understand it. Papa laughed very loud, and then he explained that the Bible said wives are like children, and that they must always obey their husbands. If they don’t, God will punish them, just like He will punish little children when they disobey their parents.

I nodded slowly, and then said to Papa that I was sleepy and that I wanted to go to sleep now. But Papa said no. He said that he wants me to play a game with him in his bedroom.

“But Papa, I’m sleepy,” I complained.

“I know, sweetheart. But it’s just a short while. Papa promises.”

“Can’t we do it tomorrow, Papa?”

“No, Kailey. Now do as I say and go to my room.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Now, Kailey! Do you want to go to hell? Or have you already forgotten the time when I showed you how painful it is like to burn forever in hell?” Papa took a few steps towards me, his huge form towering over me.

I flinched, and almost automatically, my right hand reached over to grip my left arm, where there was large pink patch on the bottom side of it. Papa had said that he wanted to show me how it is like in hell, so that next time I would remember not to make God angry by doing “sin”. He had taken me to the kitchen, and sat me on the counter beside the stove. He then lighted up the stove. With a firm grip, he took my left hand and guided my arm right over the open flame.

I cried out; I couldn’t help it. The fire was so hot that it no longer felt like heat. All I felt was pain. It was so different from the gentle warmth that I was used to when I warmed my hands at the stove during the winter. Tears poured down my cheeks as I watched my skin turn from pink to red, to a darker shade of red. I tried to yank my arm back, but Papa’s hands were like rocks.

“Papa! Let go of me!”

“Do you understand what it feels like to burn in hell now, Kailey?”

“Please, Papa!”

“Answer me, Kailey.”

“Yes! I understand! Let me go!” I screamed.

Papa let go of my hand, and I immediately pulled it back towards myself, only to cry out in pain again when my left arm touched the fabric of my dress. My skin was an angry dark red, and oh God, it hurt. The very air itself seemed to be burning that part of my arm, and it felt like a dozen knives cutting into my skin when I brushed it against my dress. I used my right hand to scrub my face – my entire face was wet with tears and sweat – and hurriedly jumped off the kitchen counter and ran out of the kitchen to hide under the table. I sat there sobbing, while trying unsuccessfully to avoid touching anything with my left arm.

I heard Papa come near before I saw him. A moment later, his head appeared as he got down on one knee and faced me. He had a thick dark beard and moustache that made it hard to see when he was smiling most of the time. But this time, I would have seen it from a mile away. I didn’t like his smile. I tried to scramble away to the other side of the table, but Papa grabbed my legs as I did and dragged me bodily back towards him. My left arm scraped against the cheap carpet, and I screamed in pain as Papa grabbed my shoulders and made me face him.

“Kailey, Kailey, Kailey…” he gently murmured as he rubbed a rough thumb over my wet cheek. I felt his fingernail scratch against my skin.

“Now do you understand why Papa always makes you listen to me? God doesn’t like children to disobey their papa’s, and God will send these children to burn in hell forever. Papa loves you, and Papa doesn’t want you to burn like these bad children. This is just to help you remember so next time you won’t make God angry.” His voice ended in a whisper.

These memories flashed through my head as I looked back up at Papa standing over me. I knew that look on his face. It meant that he was going to get angry soon if I didn’t listen to him.

I knew the game that he wanted to play, but I never liked that game. I always felt a bit of pain between my legs in the mornings, and sometimes Papa gets a bit rough when he plays and accidentally hurts me. Sometimes I get bruises and scratches too.

But that look on his face meant I didn’t have a choice. So I slowly moved my feet up the stairs and pushed his door open with a finger. It creaked open. I felt the wall gingerly with my hand for the light switch and turned it on before stepping inside. The bed stood in the middle of the room, and the wall was covered with shoddy wallpaper that had more rips in it than I could count. There was a strong smell in the room; the same smell that is in the fridge when Papa leaves an open bottle of beer in it. I made my way across the room and sat down on the chair in front of a desk that was littered with cigarette butts.

A minute later, Papa stepped into the room. I felt my body shiver, but it wasn’t because of the cold. His eyes looked towards me immediately as he carelessly flung a hand to flick the lights off. The room went dark.

“Let’s play, Kailey.”

I was seven then.

***

Papa and I lived on the fringe of a city, near fields and woods, but within sight of a bell tower that belonged to a school. It was a boarding school, to be exact, but many of the students preferred to stay in their own homes and walk to school instead.

Every morning after breakfast, I would sit at the upstairs window to watch the other children as they walk pass my house to go to school. The girls would usually walk in groups, talking and laughing all the way. Every so often, some of the boys would race up the road to see who could run the fastest. Sometimes, they would wave to me if they see me looking at them, and I would wave back.

I envied them.

Papa never sent me to school. He said that schools are filled with bad children who do a lot of “sin”, and that I shouldn’t be friends with them, or God will be very angry with me and send me to that special place in hell too. Instead, Papa taught me how to read and write, and he would bring back books for me to read. It wasn’t bad. But it also meant that I didn’t get to have any friends. There were times when I thought that maybe staying in hell wouldn’t be so bad if that’s what it took to have friends. At the very least, I wouldn’t be alone without friends in hell.

Papa never allowed me to leave the house without him, and even when we do go out, we never went too far away from home. I’ve long stopped counting the times I begged him to take me to the city, which Papa has always refused. Instead, we went grocery shopping once every two weeks at a nearby mini-mart. Papa is careful to keep me by his side wherever we go, and that I’m never out of his sight. I’m not allowed to talk to any strangers too – in other words, I’m not allowed to talk to anyone else other than Papa. He said it was for my own protection, and that there are many bad people in the world who will want to do bad things to me if I’m not careful.

During the mornings and afternoons, I’m would be at home by myself. Papa worked as a mechanic in the city, and he would always leave the house early in the morning. He usually comes home after the sun has gone down. Sometimes he doesn’t come home at all, and would only return the following night. More often than not when this happens, Papa would come home looking like he downed a vat of beer. I tried to stay away from him when this happens.

But this also meant that – unlike most people – I usually have so much time to myself that I don’t know what to do with it. Papa’s only job for me after he leaves in the morning is to prepare a meal for his dinner when he returns later in the evening, but that hardly takes more than an hour of my time in the afternoon, and there is only so much reading one can do in a day before one gets tired of it.

Many a times, I would find myself in the little garden outside the house, lying on the unkempt grass, surrounded by wild bushes and watching the clouds. My thoughts drift as I lay there, and I found myself making up stories from the pictures I see in the clouds. I’ve lived life as a cowgirl in Texas, walked through the streets of China with nothing but a pocket dictionary, and even had lunch with the Pope in the Vatican, all by lying there on the grass with my eyes to the sky. Some might call it fantasizing, but what many don’t realize is that most people have the means to bridge their fantasy with reality. I’m not one of those people who can do that. At least, it was that way until the day I saw a red kite floating in the sky one day as I lay there at my usual spot.

It had appeared out of nowhere, having strayed bashfully into my field of vision and rudely interrupting a particularly pleasant fantasy that involved travelling on a cruise ship heading towards Europe. My initial annoyance gave way to a strange curiosity as I watched that red kite bob up and down in the sky, teasing my eyes to follow its dance in the air. One of the story books I read had kites in it, but I had great difficulty imagining a piece of paper floating in the sky. This was my first time actually seeing a flying kite, and I could feel a keen fascination tingling through me as I fixed my gaze on the kite. A blue ribbon tailed from a corner of it, making it look like a bizarre fish swimming in the sky.

A sudden gust of wind caused the grass to ripple around me, and as I watched, the kite flipped twice in the air and started to spiral downwards. I felt a slight dismay growing in me as I traced its path down to earth; it had looked so pretty up in the sky.

Those spiraling motions turned into spinning and tumbling just as I felt another rush of wind blow past. To my surprise, the kite plummeted down towards me, and landed with a slight thud a few feet away.

I scrambled up, crawled across the grass and plumped myself down on the ground beside that red kite. Gingerly, I extended a finger to stroke the edge of it. It was made of paper, stuck to a simple skeleton of wooden sticks. A piece of thread trailed from the center of the kite. Frowning, I traced it with my eyes. It led over the wooded fences of the compound, and onto the street in the direction of the school.

It wasn’t long before I heard distant sounds of someone running up the road. I bit my lip and contemplated whether or not to go into the house. I didn’t like the idea of facing any strangers by myself, but at the same time, my body was seized by a strange reluctance to get up and move. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced those feelings out of my head. But just as I made up my mind to get up from the ground, a loud wheezing sound made me look up  to see a boy with messy light brown hair standing at the edge of the garden, doubled over and panting hoarsely. It took him a few moments before he finally looked up, and his eyes widened with surprise. His eyes were of the brightest blue, the same shade as the sky above him. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting anyone to be home.

Shuffling his feet, he cleared his throat and said in a bright voice, “Hiya. How do you do?”

A pregnant silence hung in the air when I didn’t reply. He had a funny accent when he spoke, but it wasn’t unpleasant to listen to. We remained frozen for several more seconds, each looking at the other as one might at an interesting curio.

I shifted a leg and nodded, and I could almost feel that heavy veil of awkwardness fade and disappear.

He shuffled his feet again and swallowed. “Err, would you mind if I had my kite back?” He shyly pointed at the red kite with a finger.

I nodded mutely again.

Licking his lips, he started walking slowly towards me with small, tentative steps. I picked up the red kite by its edge and held it up to him when he neared. His face broke into a sudden grin as he took it with his left hand and offered out his right to me.

“I’m John Nelson Philips, but everyone calls me Nelson, ‘cause my dad’s name is John too. What’s your name?” He said all this very fast and with the same funny accent.

All the warnings from Papa to never speak to strangers burst through my mind then, but I discarded it ruthlessly. Papa isn’t around now. Just for once in my life, I want to talk with a “sinner”. Surely they can’t be all that bad if Papa had to deal with them every day. Besides, this strange boy looked as harmless as a squirrel.

I opened my mouth to tell him my name. But what blurted out was –

“You talk funny.”

Nelson blinked, and then he gave a loud laugh.

 “Blimey, you yanks really are proud of yourselves, aren’t yeh?” he choked. “Begging your pardon, but if you think I talk funny, you should jolly well hear yourself talk for a change.”

It was my turn to blink. “Yanks? Where did you learn to speak English anyway?”

Nelson thrust his chest forward. “In the proud land of Her Majesty the Queen, of course,” he said as he thumped a fist on his chest. “‘Yanks’ is what we call you Americans over there. Sorry about the confusion, mate."

I thought for a moment. “So, you mean to say you actually came from –"

“England!” Nelson yelled excitedly as he threw another fist into the air. He dropped the kite onto the ground and jumped to attention, his hands by his side. I thought he looked rather comical, standing straight as a poker with his brown hair sticking out in all directions. Before I could ask him what he was going to do, Nelson bellowed:

God save our gracious Queen.

Long live our noble Queen.

God save our Queen.

Send her victorious.

Happy and glorious.

Long to reign over us

God save the Queen.

His face was filled with earnestness as he sang, and his blue eyes shone with a loyal fervor. Yet, for reasons I could not explain, it was also the most ridiculous sight I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t help myself but do the only thing I could do.

I laughed.

I have never laughed so hard in my life. Grass tickled my neck as I rolled around on it, with me gasping for air in between bursts of uncontrollable laughter. Tears cascaded down my cheeks. This is crazy, I thought. I am actually crying out of laughter? Through my tear-stained vision, I caught a glimpse of Nelson’s bewildered look on his face as he stared down at me, his mouth slightly agape. I collapsed back into fresh laughter.

“Oy!” he said indignantly. “That was the English national anthem, you cheeky monkey. It was beastly of you to laugh at it like that.”

Cheeky monkey? Beastly? I thought I was going to die laughing as the pain in my side intensified. I covered my mouth with my palms in a vain effort to stifle my laughter.

It took a while before I regained my composure. When I finally sat back up on the grass with my cheeks wet with tears, Nelson had replaced his indignant expression with one of amused exasperation. I resisted an urge to burst into laughter again. Barely.

Nelson shook his head. “Bloody yanks. I swear I’ll never understand the lot of you.” He bent down and picked his kite up, and with a few quick motions, coiled the loose thread around his left thumb. Straightening his back, he looked at me and gave a questioning smile.

“Say, I never did get your name earlier. What is it anyway?”

Thoughts of Papa flitted through my head then, but all of his reminders and warnings to never talk to “sinners” seemed dim and far away at that moment. For the first time in my life, a “sinner” had made me feel a happiness I have never felt before. I closed my eyes, and banished all thoughts of Papa from my head.

“Oy, are you all right?”

I opened my eyes. Nelson was standing directly in front of me, wearing a concerned look on his face as he looked down at me. I gave a small smile and nodded, and reached up to take hold of his offered hand.

Now that I was standing up, I noticed that I was actually as tall as him. Without letting go of his hand, I looked him in the eyes and shook his hand.

“My name is Kailey,” I said. “Kailey White.”

I was twelve then.

***

“Bloody hell! Which bleeding, dim-witted git is responsible for building this piece of crap?” exclaimed Nelson as he tried in vain to start the engine of the old Buick. The engine cranked hoarsely a few more times, but the familiar roar of an engine coming to life never followed through. With a hiss of frustration, Nelson pulled the key out of the ignition and bashed a fist against the dashboard.

“Bugger it, bugger it, bugger it all!” he yelled as he punctuated his words with thumps on the dashboard. His face was screwed up in frustration and a drop of sweat slid down his neck.

After a few moments, he relaxed and slumped back into the driver’s seat. With a sigh, he turned towards me and said, “I’m sorry, Kailey. Let me have a few minutes to call up a few chaps of mine. Maybe one of them will be nice enough to let us borrow his car.”

I shook my head and placed a hand on top of his. “It’s okay. We can still get out of here, even without the car. Papa isn’t going to be home for at least another hour. We can make it.” I braved a smile at him as I reached behind me for my rucksack on the backseat and got out of the car.

            We were parked on the curb right outside my house. The cold wind hit my face as soon as I stepped out. It was only autumn, but the winter winds had already set in. My body gave a slight shiver as I pulled my jacket around myself and lean against the blue Buick. Nelson had just gotten out of the car too and was dialing a number on his cellphone. I gave a tired sigh and rested my head against the car, my eyes resting thoughtfully on the house that Papa and I lived in.

            Papa never found out that I made friends with a “sinner”, and I never thought it necessary to tell him either. Even though Nelson would come over to visit every day after school was finished, I always made him leave the moment the clock struck five; Papa usually came home between six and seven in the evening. We read books, played games, and flew his kite together. But most of the time we would just sit and talk, of everything and anything, both real and imagined. The only thing that I refused to share was my life with Papa, and anything that had to do with him.

            It turns out that Nelson's life was everything that mine was not. I have never visited a city; Nelson has visited countries. I never did anything exciting beyond starting a small fire in the kitchen occasionally; Nelson loves talking about going horseback-riding and his past skiing trips. Listening to him talk of these things gave me a sense of wonder and incredulity, but I also felt a bitterness that he had everything I wanted.  I never told him about these feelings.

Many times, Nelson had asked to stay so he could meet Papa, and show a baffled look on his face when I said no every time.

“Honestly, Kailey,” he once said with a roll of his eyes two summers ago. “Why the bloody hell is it so difficult for you to just let me meet your dad once? I mean, I told mum and dad about you, and they can’t wait to meet you.”

Nelson’s parents were living in London, and they had sent Nelson here to live in the boarding school for reasons that even he didn’t know about. Nelson only saw them once a year when he went home during the Christmas season.

I shook my head. “It’s not going to work. Papa isn’t the same as your parents, Nelson. So stop asking.”

“Oh come off it, how different could he be from my parents? I mean, you’re a really nice person yourself. That must mean your father’s a really nice person too, right?”

I felt the bile rise in my throat, and I was suddenly aware of the dull ache between my legs. It’s been there so often that I never thought about the pain anymore. Papa still insisted on playing his game now and then, and I never had the strength to say no to him.

I turned around and walked back into the house. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, and it’s five o’clock now. You should go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Kailey, wait!”

I waved a hand without looking back at him. “Good-bye, Nelson.”

I felt more than heard him as he approached me from behind. Before I knew what had happened, I was grabbed by my hand and spun around, straight into Nelson’s arms. I was about to open my mouth to fire off a retort, but before I could, Nelson had placed a hand to the back of my neck and his mouth came down over mine.

            A numb shock ran through my entire being, and my toes curled up within my shoes. His lips were surprisingly soft, even if a little clumsy. I closed my eyes and kissed back, willing for time to stop at that moment.

            Nelson pulled apart. His ears were bright red, but his face was split into a grin. “I saw that on the telly once, and I always wanted to try that.”

            My head felt light, and I felt like a part of me went missing when Nelson pulled apart. I sat down on the grass and hugged my legs, feeling dazed.

            Nelson sat down beside me. He placed a hand over mine. “Now can I meet up with your dad?”

            I couldn’t have described my feelings at that moment even if I wanted to. Happiness, anger, frustration, sadness… They all slowly replaced the numbness that I felt, and my heart felt like it was going to burst with the sheer force of the emotions that was surging through me. I wanted to tell him that it was impossible to be with him. Papa would kill me if he ever found out that I had kissed a "sinner." I felt my left arm throb, where I was burned many years ago. My mind felt like utter chaos.

            “Kailey?”

            Nelson’s voice reverberated inside my head like a beacon of light, and in that moment, I made up my mind.

            I pressed my face against my legs and whispered.

“What? Sorry, I didn’t hear that,” said Nelson in an apologetic voice.

            “I said, take me somewhere else,” I mumbled louder. “There’s something I want to tell you, but I can’t tell it to you here. Please, don’t ask, just do it.”

            Nelson stood up. “All right. C’mon, let’s go inside.”

            “No!” I looked up, and was surprised to feel a slight dampness in my eyes. “Please, anywhere else but this house.”

            Nelson’s face was filled with confusion. “Where to then?”

            I bit my lip before replying. “Take me to your room in the school.”

            And he did, and for the first time in my life, I told a “sinner” everything about my life with Papa. Everything. And for the first time in my life, I made a decision for myself that day.

            A loud bang brought me out of my reverie; Nelson had kicked the side of the car.

            “Bollocks! Nothing takes an hour!” shouted Nelson. “Get your arse here double-time, you hear – Hello? Hello!”

            Nelson cursed and put his phone back into his pocket, looking furious. “C’mon Kailey. Those bleeding bastards aren’t coming after all. We’ll just have to leg it from here.” He opened the trunk and pulled out his backpack.

            “C’mon, Kailey. Let’s go. We’ll cut across the school and take a bus into the city.” He shrugged on his backpack and started walking in the direction of the school. It took him a few seconds to realize that I was still leaning against the car, looking at the house.

            “All right, Kailey?”

            I didn’t reply. Numbness had stolen through my body, but it wasn’t because of the cold. My pulse was racing as thoughts flashed through my mind. Thoughts of Papa, “sinners”, and thoughts of burning in hell for doing this to Papa. I didn’t notice Nelson come near till he was standing beside me.

            He opened his mouth to speak, but I didn’t want to hear it. I threw myself into his arms and sobbed, and felt his surprise turn into tender affection as he wrapped his arms around me.

            “I can’t do this, Nelson.”

            “Yes, you can. Your dad bloody raped you, Kailey.”

            I shook my head. “It’s not about that. I’ve gotten used to that a long time ago.”

            Nelson’s face was one of disbelief. “Can you hear what you’re saying, Kailey? Your dad should be put in jail for what he did to you. Don’t you understand?”

            I pulled my head back and glared. “Yes, I bloody well understand, Nelson. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s still my father. I won’t report him to the police. I just can’t, alright?” Fresh tears flowed down my cheeks.

            Nelson was silent as he watched me cry. Then he asked, “So what’s stopping you from leaving?”

            “God, I think.”

            “Bollocks!” Nelson fired. “Kailey, all that belief about sinners and children burning in hell is nothing but a load of crap. You know that!”

            “Yes, I do!” I shouted back. “But he’s still my father! Why don’t you try ditching your parents for good and see how easy it is?”

            Nelson didn’t say anything, and I just stood there and cried, my tears dripping onto the layer of dead leaves on the ground.

            “I’m scared, Nelson.” I said quietly with a sob.

            “So am I.” Nelson stepped forward and hugged me again. His warmth enveloped me and stopped my tears.

            “Sinners don’t go to heaven, you know,” I sniffed quietly.

            “I know,” he replied in a soft voice. His arms hugged me tighter. A moment later, he asked softly, “Do you still remember telling me what you imagined heaven as?”

            “Yes.”

            “Tell me again.”

            “A place big enough for the whole world to fit into,” I murmured against him. “Filled with palaces, cities, people of every kind… But most of all, a place filled with love. Lots and lots of it, I guess.”

            “Love, eh?” asked Nelson thoughtfully. “You know, that’s something we actually have lots and lots of. Probably enough… to build our own heaven, don’t you think?”

            Our own heaven? A sense of wonder filled me as I thought of those words. I pulled back and looked at Nelson, who was looking back with a sober expression, his eyes filled with tenderness. Looking into them, I felt a new courage build inside of me. The very same feeling I had after he kissed me two years ago.

I nodded and gave a weak smile.  “To hell with heaven then. We’ll make our own.”

Nelson smiled back. “To our own heaven then. Now c’mon, Kailey, let’s not miss that bus.” He gently took hold of my shoulders and guided me up the street.

            I never looked back at the house again. To this day, I still wonder what Papa thought when he finally entered the empty house and found his dinner with an envelope beside it.

                I was seventeen then.