Page 21 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“I will.” He rolled up the sleeves and spit his hands again. “Keep the time, please.”
“I will count,” I said. “Okay, ready?”
He jumped and grasped the branch. “I am ready.”
“One… two… three… four… five… six…” I tickled his underarm.
“Here you are.”
“Please don’t!” He giggled and fell to the ground. “Ouch!”
“You okay, buddy?” I said.
“Yeah, I am fine.” He again swung so long that he angled out to the side as if he did an acrobatic show
of dexterity in the Olympics. As he swung higher and higher, he squeezed his eyes shut. “Help!”
I dived and held his legs. “Hold tight.”
He landed on his face and couldn’t get up. “Boohoo!”
Somebody shoved me from behind. I lost my footing and almost bumped my head into the tree.
Jigme glared at me. He was left-handed but robust. “Watch your hands, kid.”
“I was trying to save him,” I said.
“What?” he blurted. “Don’t lie to me.”
“I didn’t do it,” I said. “He fell himself.”
He was red with anger. “What a liar!”
“He just—”
“You son of a god-damned bitch, take this!”
I fell flat to the ground. My head rang in agony and little flashes of light sparked across my eyes. I
looked up at him in tears.
“Listen, you moron.” He set his left foot on my chest and crushed it. “I am gonna break your arms if
you repeat that.”
I winced and squirmed to get free. “Ah!”
He crushed harder, gnashing his teeth. “Will you repeat it?”
“Ah, leg off my chest.” I tried to shove away his leg, but it was rigid. “Somebody, help me! Dad!”
He freed me and held Penjore’s hand and turned back. “You gotta grow up, kid, to fight me.”
As they walked away, hand–in–hand, Penjore didn’t even turn back to see if I was fine. Tears pricked
my eyes. I slogged home, hands shoved into my pockets.
Dad was gazing through the half-open window. He turned back to me when I creaked open the door. I
shuffled across and sat beside him.
His eyes were wet. He’d lost a lot of weight and most of the time, he looked strained. Partly because he
put such long hours in retrospection of his late wife and son. There was a wave of sorrows in the room.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, wiping the tears.
“Nothing.”
He gazed out of the window again, far into the distant azure. In the evening, he woke me. “Dinner,” he
said.
“I am not hungry, Dad,” I said and curled up on the mattress again.
A month later, I saw Penjore squatting in the parking lot behind his house. He seemed lonely. “Hey,
buddy, what’s up?” he said.
“Hey buddy, been a while without seeing you,” I said. “So how is your face?”
“Much better,” he said. “Sorry, you had to bear the brunt.”
“It’s okay.” I slipped my arms around his shoulders. “I should be the one to say sorry, not you.”
“How’s your chest?” he asked. “You must be hurt.”
“Yeah, but better now,” I said.
“Glad you are fine,” he said. “Let’s play marbles.”
“I don’t have any marbles,” I said.
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