Page 16 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

“Follow me.”
We arrived at a pine tree, above the road, that had low branches to swing.
“Let’s see who hangs onto the branch the longest,” I said.
“Fine,” he said, keeping his hands on the hips. “I bet I win at this.”
“Let’s see.” I spit my hands and scurried after him. “Who’s gonna start?”
“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.
“Don’t worry.” He scooped out a handful of marvels from his pant pockets. “Here you are.”
“Wow, plenty of marbles,” I said. “Yes, let’s play.”
Chimmi, another imbecile in the town, pelted stones at the marbles. Lips thick and snotty nose, he gritted his
teeth when furious. His unremitting disturbance ruined the charm of our play.
Annoyed, Penjore said, “Don’t interrupt us, please.”
But Chimmi curled up his lips and continued pelting stones.

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