Accidentally become a father

[ Be Quiet, and Listen to Me ]

—

I got back up.

Took the empty cigarette pack.

Placed it on the floor.

One by one, I put the glass shards inside.

A small sound.

Clink... clink...

Done.

—

Yuna came out of the bathroom.

A towel wrapped around her body.

Her hair still wet.

Water droplets falling to the floor.

"Papa..."

"What?"

"I’m sorry..."

"Quiet."

Yuna fell silent.

She looked down.

Her small shoulders slumped.

She walked away.

Into the small room.

To change clothes.

—

I grabbed a rag.

Wiped up the spilled coffee.

Slowly.

Following the line of liquid that had already started to dry.

Done.

I folded the carpet.

Lifted it up.

Tossed it into the shower room.

Splash.

Splash.

Splash.

Water hit it.

The brown stain faded.

I wrung it out.

Threw it into the dryer.

The machine spun.

...

Done.

I hung it up to dry.

—

Back to the futon.

I lay down.

Facedown.

Yuna came over.

Her steps were slow.

She sat beside me.

Her hand touched the sole of my foot.

Looking at the band-aid.

"I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I’m sorry..."

"Quiet, Yuna."

"I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I’m sorry..."

On repeat.

Not stopping.

"I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I’m sorry..."

—

I sat up.

Fast.

Stared at her.

My eyes were heavy.

Half-closed.

But sharp.

"Stop it."

"I don’t like hearing it."

"I’m sorry... sorry..."

My hand moved.

Quickly.

Covering her mouth.

"I told you to stop."

Yuna’s eyes widened.

Scared.

Tears welled up.

But they didn’t fall.

I pulled my hand away.

Lay back down.

Grabbed a pillow.

Covered my face.

—

...

Not long after.

"Why is Papa so different today..."

A small voice.

Faint.

"I’m in a bad mood."

My voice was muffled behind the pillow.

"Why..."

"I’m just tired."

Silence.

"Is Papa tired of Yuna..."

...

"Does Papa not want Yuna here anymore..."

What?...

—

I threw the pillow.

Thud!

It hit the TV.

I immediately sat up.

"Quiet."

"And listen to me."

Yuna instantly looked down.

Her shoulders dropped.

Tears fell slowly.

—

"I never said that."

"Don’t you ever think like that again."

I took a deep breath.

Exhaled slowly.

"I can’t say that I love you."

"I also can’t say that I hate you."

Pause.

"What’s clear is..."

"I don’t want you to leave."

"This house would just get lonely again."

....

....

"You said I’m different today..."

"This is me when I’m a mess."

—

"You want to know why?"

Yuna nodded.

Slowly.

"Logically speaking..."

"When your body is exhausted..."

"Physically... mentally... emotionally..."

"It affects your mood."

"And a bad mood..."

"Ruins every reaction."

"Everything that happens... feels wrong."

"Do you understand?"

...

...

She shook her head slowly.

I stared at her for a moment.

"You’ll figure it out eventually."

—

"Now don’t bother me."

"I want to rest."

I lay back down.

"Am I bothering you..."

I opened my eyes a fraction.

"Why are you still thinking like that."

"Papa just said..."

"What I meant was..."

"Let me rest."

"Now... get my pillow."

Yuna stood up.

Picked it up.

Handed it to me.

"Papa is tired."

"Yeah."

"I’ll give you a massage."

"Look at your hands."

Yuna looked down at both of her hands.

Small.

"I can do it."

"Try massaging my hand, then."

—

Yuna stepped closer.

Pressed down.

Gently.

I felt absolutely nothing.

"Papa’s hands are hard..."

"I told you."

"If you want to do it..."

"Just step on my back."

"How do I do that..."

—

I rolled over.

To the edge of the futon.

Near the wall.

Facedown.

"Climb on."

"Walk on me."

"It’s the same thing."

Yuna climbed up.

Carefully.

Her weight was barely noticeable.

"Now..."

"Walk from the bottom... to the top..."

"Then back down again..."

"Turn around... keep going."

Yuna tried it.

One step.

Two steps.

"Is this too heavy for you, Papa?"

"Heavy?"

"Until you’re all grown up..."

"It won’t be too heavy for me..."

"As long as you don’t get fat."

—

Yuna let out a small laugh.

She didn’t look gloomy anymore.

Her feet walked.

Slowly.

Back.

Shoulders.

A little pressure on the neck.

Down.

Thighs.

Back of the knees.

—

"Ack—"

"Not there."

"Why, Papa..."

"That part might be tired too..."

She stepped on it again.

"Ack. Step off."

"That hurts."

"Oh... you should’ve said so."

Her steps moved.

Calves.

Down to the soles of my feet.

She stopped.

Looked at the band-aid.

She stepped over it.

—

"Why did you skip it."

"Go back down."

"But it still hurts..."

"Just do it."

Yuna stepped on it.

Lightly.

Hesitantly.

Then went back to walking normally.

Up to the shoulders again.

—

"Right there."

"A bit longer."

"This is where Papa is the most tired, right..."

The pressure increased.

"Papa..."

"Hm."

"Yesterday I saw Papa on TV."

"And."

"Mm..."

"That’s all."

"Didn’t you see your mother too."

"...I did."

"And."

—

"And what..."

"My mother’s voice is really nice..."

"Papa met her yourself..."

"How was she?"

I stayed silent for a moment.

"Nothing special."

Yuna chuckled.

Her feet kept walking.

Slowly.

On my back.

The soreness faded, little by little.

My consciousness gradually...

Faded.

And disappeared.

—

Consciousness returned.

Slowly.

My eyes opened.

The ceiling.

It looked the same.

But the light was different.

Warmer.

Dimmer.

Afternoon.

—

My body felt light... a little.

Not as heavy as it was this afternoon.

I took a breath.

Deep.

Then exhaled slowly.

Both hands pressed against the futon.

I stretched my body.

Crack.

Crack.

The sound of joints popping.

My back felt taut.

Then released.

"...Hah..."

I got up.

Sat up.

—

Yuna.

At the table.

Sitting.

Her back straight.

An open book.

A pencil in hand.

She was reading.

Silently.

—

I recalled.

Earlier.

On my back.

Small footsteps.

A foot massage.

"...Yuna."

"Yes?"

She turned her head.

"Thank you."

Yuna blinked.

A little surprised.

"Your stepping actually felt pretty nice."

Yuna smiled faintly.

Not a wide smile.

But it was there.

"You’re welcome, Papa."

"Next time Papa is tired again..."

"I’ll massage you again."

"So the tiredness goes away."

—

"Are you doing homework?"

"No."

She looked at her book.

"I’m just studying."

"Exams start next week."

"Oh..."

—

My head was still a bit heavy.

I stood up.

Slow steps.

Toward the bathroom.

Cold water touched my face.

Splash.

Once.

Twice.

I wiped my face.

Stared into the mirror for a moment.

My eyes were still tired.

But more alive.

I walked out.

—

I turned on the TV.

Click.

Sound immediately filled the room.

Channels changing.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Stopped.

A familiar channel.

Anime.

—

I turned up the volume.

A little.

Yuna glanced over.

"Papa..."

"Hm?"

"I’m studying."

"Studying?"

I sat down.

Leaned back.

"Then just study."

"I just want to watch this."

The corner of my lips curved up a fraction.

On purpose.

I was teasing her.

—

Yuna didn’t answer.

Her eyes returned to the book.

A few seconds.

Then...

She glanced again.

At the TV.

Back to the book.

Again.

Repeatedly.

I saw it.

She was genuinely distracted.

—

"Yuna."

"Yes, Papa?"

"Have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

I stood straight up.

Grabbed my jacket.

"I’m going out for a bit."

"Want to come?"

"No."

Her answer was quick.

"Alright then."

I walked to the door.

Left the TV on.

I stepped out.

Click.

—

Inside.

Yuna sat.

Quiet.

Her eyes on the book.

Then...

To the TV.

She bit the end of her pencil.

"...I have to study..."

Her hand reached for the remote.

Click.

The TV turned off.

Silence returned.

She took a breath.

Looked down.

Went back to reading.

—

Sometime later.

Click.

The door opened.

I walked in.

"Yuna."

She turned her head.

"Look at this."

I lifted the plastic bag in my hand.

"What’s that?"

"Sate."

"Sate?"

"Indonesian food."

Yuna tilted her head.

"What’s Indonesia?"

"A country."

"Oh..."

—

I went to the kitchen.

Grabbed a plate.

Set it on the table.

Sat down.

"That’s enough, you can study later."

"Let’s eat."

My hand closed her book.

Slid it aside a little.

"But Papa..."

"Exams are next week..."

"And?"

"I want to get good grades."

I opened the sate wrapper.

The aroma immediately wafted out.

Sweet.

Smoky.

Slightly charred.

"Come on."

"Good grades won’t fill your stomach."

"Eat first."

Yuna was quiet for a moment.

Then got up.

Approached.

Sat down.

—

I took some rice.

Served it onto the plate.

Took the sate.

Placed it on top.

"Is this spicy?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I don’t like it."

"Oh..."

Yuna copied me.

Slowly.

—

She took a skewer.

First bite.

She stopped.

Chewed.

Her eyes widened a fraction.

"It’s delicious..."

I nodded.

"It is."

We ate.

Slowly.

Without any unnecessary noise.

—

"Papa..."

"Hm."

"Are you not tired anymore?"

I stopped for a moment.

"Why do you ask?"

"You look like your usual self again."

"What is my usual self like?"

Yuna thought.

"Mm..."

"The same, I guess..."

"But..."

She searched for the right words.

"Just not like this afternoon."

I stared at her.

For a moment.

Then went back to eating.

I didn’t explain.

There was no need.

But...

My hand moved a little.

Sliding one skewer of sate.

Toward Yuna.

Without a word.

And this time...

Yuna didn’t say anything.

She just took it.

—