August 10, 2007

• shattered.

  on my drive to work this morning, i reached into my purse to confirm that i had my cell phone with me. some days, i can be forgetful.

  the lcd was flashing. 1 missed call. "show" i pressed. 0118211xxxxxxxx, dad. i felt a knot in my stomach. i don't know why, but the past few times that i've seen a missed call from him, a qualmish feeling hovers over me. a good part of me regrets ever giving him my number. since our initial conversation a few months ago.. he's left me several voicemails. i listened to every one of them.. but never chose to return them. i'd feel nauseous, hearing his feeble voice. his subtle pleas to call him back..

  no voicemail this time. i felt guilty missing his call.. and for lacking the desire to call him back. as i came to a halt at the light, vibrations struck my inner thigh. "dad".. i wanted to disregard it, but couldn't.

  "hello?"

  "uh, n-g.. appa yah" (angie, it's dad).. an enervated greeting.. his voice sounded faint.

  "hi, appa.." i hyped myself up at this point.. attempting to inject myself with invisible novocaine. he asked me how i was, why i hadn't called him back. i responded, emotionless. i informed him that i had been extremely busy. an utter lie.

  "heem duhl gee, n-g? uh? ahmoohl ddae nah pelyo hal ddah, appa han tae juhn hwa hae joh. mahnee bo go ship ddah" (it's hard, angie.. isn't it? whenever you need something, call me. i miss you so much) ..an uncontrollable stream of tears flowed down my cheeks.

  i told him that everything was okay. i'm good at hiding the emotional wrecks that i crash into -- when it comes to him. i've needed you for the past twenty two years of my life.. and now you're available? now you're being considerate of my needs? i know people fuck up. he is my father and he's trying so hard to make amends, i do forgive him.. but i can't forget what's happened. i wish those unwanted memories would vanish, but they continue to haunt me -- the mere thought of my father triggers it all.

  i want to go back to a happier time. believe it or not, it did exist in my life at some point. i vividly recall one humid, summer night.. years ago. dad, mom.. and my sister were all gathered outside in the backyard.. barbecuing kalbi. i was overflowed with joy, ecstatic as could be. it was absolutely perfect. i ran into my bedroom and grabbed a few pieces of plain, white paper.. and a blue crayon. quickly, i drew up this "contract".. it read something along the lines of.. "i promise to always stay a family" .. i had a spot for each member to sign their signatures. they all did. inevitably, it was breached. 

  the day that contract broke.. i did, too.

  • 2:03 pm
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