The Coins
In the name of the rainbow truth.
I could not wait for my pa, sat down in the church for more hours. That morning, pa wore black and white suit, with a tie hanging on his shirt. I saw the world as red, yellow, green, or blue. You used to wear a rainbow suit, I told pa. But he held my hand, told me to shut my mouth. As pa let his hand go, I took this chance to get outside. I stood but glued. The bench grabbed my butt from moving up. I wondered if pa still held on my body, but not. I looked down around and found nothing except the bleached floor. I rubbed the bench. The brownish bench. Made from stained oak. Assembled along the row, even just me and pa sat there. My palm met the subtle surface. Not sticky. Nor slimy. Nothing but wood. So, I stood again, but kept glued. I panicked, swayed my spine. This stupid bench, I growled. Pa looked at me, shh! Yet he had no sympathy with my panicking mimic. Stayed silent. Drowned deep under the preaching. I raged but did not know at whom. Could not with pa. I had promised to sit this Sunday silent in the service. With myself perhaps. I shook the bench, and the lady, who sat behind me, knocked the bench as if she said, silent young man! I turned my head, but soon turned it back again. I met with a hazardous stare. A black circle in the middle of the white crescent pool. Squinted above a curved down lips. Behind the thick glasses under the orange hat with a violet flower on it.
I calmed myself for a while. Decoyed my ear to listen to the sermon. But I failed to trick my soul. Disable to stand but glued. Consumed by both fear and rage. Fear if I was cursed. Rage of I might be cursed. I tapped pa’s hand. He turned his head. I used to ask him if I got a curse, but I shut my mouth after, again, he said, shh! And he pointed at the platform. So, I asked myself, was I cursed? I begged for mercy, repented in a prayer. A girl pa hired babysitting me when I was still an infant had told me to repent if I felt something bad. No matter right or wrong because people do wrong, she said. I did not understand what she said, but now I moved my lips, spilled the agony words. Last month, I stole two coins from pa’s wallet. A coin for the donation that my school had raised. A donation for home care, the teacher said. I was ashamed as my teacher had collected from my classmates, yet not me. He might think about caring for my home. For the other coin, I bought a bun, gave it to the aunty next door. She got cancer. Her doctor said, six months at maximum.
That night. On the day I stole his coins, pa mourned. Blamed himself for losing the coins. He thought it fell on the way home. I had no courage to tell the truth. So, the day after, we just ate two tubers. No rice. Nor even meat. Pa led me to have a thankful prayer for the tubers. I prayed full of tears, that fell on the table even on my plate. Knocking without sound but wet. Like a little pool mirrored the blue and grey. I wiped my eyes before pa arrived at amen, but pa caught me. A smile excavated his moustache almost over the nose. He guessed I really prayed tough. Nothing he wanted except the truth revealed to his son. The truth. What truth? It used to be about two coins for pride and drive. Anyway, along the meal pa spoke nothing about the coins. But two tubers. Rooted and fat. Enough to meet our stomach. Full and satisfying. That might be the truth, I thought. I had to tell pa for the coins after the service.
I felt relieved, and I stood again, but kept glued. What the…, I stopped the words after the babysitting girl popped in my mind. I needed to repent more, I thought. But what? Nothing in my memory that I could repent now. I had repented many times. All matters had settled. Except the rainbow that I wanted pa to wear. So, I repented for it. But this prayer raged my mind. He rejected it. I pushed him but failed. No matter what I prayed with a loud soul, he insisted. Wild and roared. As a beast hunting its prey. On the dried grass, malignant and ferocious. I could not repent in this way, where I was hunted as the prey. No, I could not. I kicked the front bench, but not any single shift or a little shake. I failed to keep my scream shut. The priest froze on the platform, and I believed the lady in the orange hat perhaps now became red. Pa was stunned at me. No rainbow anymore. The rest was a reality.
The service ended at last. I stood, but even now I laid. Not in the church, but in a ward. Not on the bench, but in bed. Pa sat next to me. His eyes rounded red with the skin bags under each. As an upstream for the river on his wrinkled cheeks. The coins, I whispered, and I heard shh! But now, the pale lips arose beating the sunrise. His coarse hand stroked on my hair. It felt like a small girl cuddling her teddy bear. While she sang a voice that sounded as a miracle. Felt warm. In a rainbow suit.
