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.
2 comments:
Darren! That was SO GOOD (you deserve those capital letters)! It's such a gripping story. Wow.
No need to remind me again why you were once part of the young writers :)
Darren!
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