2 Jun Reyes (1/2)

Binangonan, Rizal

”Don't let anyone in, and ignore everyone knocking on the door! Stop standing, sit down! At this rate, your knees will give up on you before I do! Have you drank your medications yet!?”, I said to my father non-stop while pouring water in his glass.

My father was sitting on the corner of his bed. He kept looking down the floor as he made a slight nod. His worn out face and sunken cheeks made him look malnourished. Like someone who lacks sleep and nutrition.

Despite all that, he's actually strong and is currently in his mid-forty's. The few good points that I can see from him is that he's always well groomed. He regularly gets his hair cut and always shaves his face.

For some reason, he looks pitiable and weak. Even after everything that I've been doing to him, he still manage to smile.

Both of his knees fully covered with bandages. It's an injury that was caused by a colleague, who 'accidentally' bumped into him when they were going home after work. He was then taken to a hospital recommended by that same colleague. The doctor there said that due to old age, my father's bones were already fragile. Which caused the kneecap to easily break and some other bullshit reasons. The police officer that was stationed at the hospital came and 'investigated' the issue. The case was closed as an 'accident' and my father's colleague was 'forced' to pay the hospital bill. He was given paid vacation and other beautiful sounding benefits. After a few months the company forced him to file his resignation, which he actually did. Just remembering those things pisses me off.

”I'm heading out. There's food in the table, just heat it up if it gets cold!”

***

My name is Jun Reyes and I'm already 21 years old this year. I live with my father in this dilapidated two-story house, in this small town. It's quite decent, having two side-by-side bedrooms connected with single hallway on its second floor. There's a simple wooden stairway going down. The first floor was composed of a kitchen, a living room, and a bathroom. A simple house that looks so lifeless having no decorations at all. Just white painted walls and some artificial flowers on a vase in the middle of the kitchen table.

Memories from the past played back on my mind as I walk down the stairway. I made sure the front door is locked and used the additional chain lock attached on the wall for extra security. When I turned around, I saw my reflection on the mirror.

My round face and fierce eyebrows looked exactly like my father. I also got this medium physique from him, not too bulky and not too skinny. There's a metallic earring on both of my ears. Nothing fancy, just a small common bead. I don't really like them though. I just got them to annoy my father since he always tell me that having a bright and clean face will help more people approach you. My hairstyle always prioritize annoying him rather than whether it looks good on me. My current one is a basic crew cut that has star-shaped design on the right top-side. I was filled with satisfaction as I remembered how he looked at me earlier. I almost thought that he was going to curse at me.

I drank some water in the fridge to quench my thirst then left through the backdoor. After locking the knob with my keys, I took a padlock that I always hid in a plant and locked the backdoor.

This might be something that people might frown upon but there's a unique reason for this.

I consider myself as someone who has a bad temper, someone rude and an asshole, but my dad is on a whole new level.

I'm not actually like this when I was young. I have lots of respect for my parents, we are a happy family of four, I'm a well-behave child and was someone who likes to join Sunday worship groups.

That was years ago before my father become a compulsive gambler, ridden with debts, which caused his current injuries and our families situation right now.

He was once a model figure for me. As a child, I always followed him wherever he goes inside the house. I watched him build a tree house for me and my little sister in our own backyard. He was a respected engineer, not just on building tall skyscrapers but other things too. Dad always told me stories about his dreams when he was a child, and how he managed to achieve it. He would tell stories of how he scrapped his old toys for their parts and how he made new toys using all those parts. Inventing and building things was his hobby ever since.