the end of innocence

i was reading some blogs just now, some news and it occurred to me, no matter how society wants to see it otherwise, no matter the different television shows that we watch, no matter how pretty we all may imagine life to be, there will always be as many downs as ups. there will always be some shit happening, that you can not possibly foresee, cannot possibly come to terms with or get rid of.

suddenly looking back, i realised how fucking stupid being upset at failing uni sound. for the record, i failed university. that’s the reason for the last few depressing posts. i am upset, perhaps because deep down inside, i know one of my tickets out of my past life is closed. it doesn’t mean other doors aren’t open. but i just feel damn sad i might lose this place, i might have to leave and this was a great place regardless of what happened. for once, i feel free when i am here, and because i am so far away, things between my dad and me finally got better. perhaps not alot, but it was better.

i said i don’t want my blog to be too personal because i am not comfortable with it at times, to know that regardless of how anonymous i try to be, i will always end up being found out at some stage anyways thus i never bothered to hide my identity much. This blog though, has kinda evolved for me. i still need a goddamn outlet to rant and rave and i can’t just cry my life away, doesn’t solve shit. however i can write stuff out, and vent the pent up feelings for a bit.

how awesome isn’t it.

let me start my life story where it did started. right at the beginning. it will span a few pages, but i have all the time in the world now, so everyone can slowly enjoy.

When i was young, my family lived in a small 2 bedroom flat. We were very poor, both my parents work their arse off, and married late in life so that they may have money before they start a family. our tiles were so bad, i can peel at it with my 5 years old fingers, and they come apart.

and i can spend my entire childhood just prying them apart like that without thinking of the consequences of walking on concrete floor.

my mum’s a seamstress. when she was 18, she ran away from home to start a new life working in singapore. back then, visa and what not was not like a hard thing to get, and she worked her way up to being rich at making import and exporting clothes, while still selling some locally. she claimed that many people woo-ed her, but my mum has this very materialistic streak. as long as the guy doesn’t look rich, doesn’t seem to be earning much and have a nice car, house, whatever, she doesn’t want to be with him.

add that to the fact that she works from 7 till 11 at night every day, she barely met “eligible” people and family got desperate and friends helped to match make her to my dad.

my dad on his part, graduated from secondary school and worked all kinds of job before settling for, what was considered back then as a prestigious job in the government building thing, because it was a necessity to find a well paying job. from time beyond memory, i knew my dad love wu shu, love chinese medicine, love chinese-y things, but with barely any money on hand, and what with the inability to earn much with those knowledge anyways, he did the “normal” work route.

when he married my mum, it was because he saw that she was hardworking and seemed capable of handling money since she’s earning so much, so he thought she would make a great housewife, mother, wife person.

oh the practicalities of men.

Since both married late in life, they were in a hurry to have kids. people of that era, it seemed abnormal not to marry, and also not to have kids. For a couple of years though, my mum couldn’t conceive. They had no idea why, till they visited a doctor, and they found out due to her erratic eating behaviours, sleeping hours and what not, her period was not coming regularly enough for her to conceive.

so she had medication to aid her in that and then i was born.

i am not sure how much my mother actually wanted me though. from time beyond memory too, she had never really talked nicely to me when i was young. when she does, it was to conspire against people, bitch about my aunts, and so on. not her sisters, my auntie-in-laws.

then my dad started travelling overseas when he had saved enough money to pursue learning about his interests. he had barely enough to support himself for 3 months or something at a go, while still paying the guy he’s learning from the fees to learn wu shu. At that time, his choice of destination was taiwan, and there was a giant country wide sales happening.

i was only 3.

my mum pleaded with him to let her go, because she wanted to go shopping. He didn’t have the money to bring her along, plus i was very young. i am not sure anymore if we had any maid to look after me at that age, but she didn’t seem to care either ways. My dad still refused, because if there was anything huge that happens, he wouldn’t have the money to support both of them and bring both back.

moreover, by then my mum has started showing her spendthrift ways. it was hard to bring along someone like that and hope to have enough money. her motto was “his money is mine, and my money is mine”. which, in every sense of the word, brought alot of problems home.

my mum got terribly upset. on the day of departure, there used to be a macdonalds in the middle of changi airport, which was only 1 terminal back then. we had our last breakfast before my dad departs. i am not sure what happened, i only remembered i was clambering and then sitting back down on my chair when my mum swoosh the cup of hot tea over me.

oh

my

god.

i don’t know who to be more upset with now, but back then, i didn’t understand what was going on. it hurt, it hurt and i was scared of my mum. she poured it over me, and i don’t know why. i didnt know who to reach out for comfort, because my mum was supposed to protect me in any cartoon i have ever watched, yet, she just poured something to hurt me.

on the other hand, dad was NOT going to put off his trip for this. he said “don’t try to stop me with this cruel act, i know what you’re thinking. if you can’t go you don’t want me to leave either!” and he went off to taiwan.

by the time he came back, i was cured, and all well again. relatives visited me, everything went fine and dandy, and i believed in my mum again, my dad, everything was forgotten.

oh, how naive the child.

my dad left again when i was 5 to Taiwan to visit his friend, the teacher. again, i was left alone with mum. again, she was upset.

she was still a “young” wife, the marriage was still young, and yet, she was left alone with a child, while she’s still trying to get ahead with her career. at times, i sit down and wonder, did she ever wanted me, because it seemed she hated me for bogging her career down.

the number of times she told me i ruined her life, because i came and she couldn’t concentrate on her work anymore, that i was the cause of her career’s downfall. i lost count.

most of all, at times, i think she resented my presence because she couldn’t go with my dad on such trips to taiwan.

one day, during the trip when i was 5, i woke up, hungry, with nothing to do as it was holidays or something. i asked her to make milk for me because i am hungry.

“ma, i wana drink milk.”

“go make it yourself! i am busy can’t you see?”

“but i don’t know how to make.”

“why are you so stupid? why did i have a fucking stupid kid? just pour hot water and milk and everything that u need. so damn simple, and you don’t even know?!?!”

i was hurt. tears ran down my face as i attempted to do everything.

i was 5. even today, some tools call me short. can you imagine at 5, what kind of height i am? the mixing of milo powder and condense milk was easy. then the part of the hot water came. the kettle was high up on a shelf. i couldn’t reach it without some kind of aid.

i found a stool, and pushed it towards the kettle. i was still far short of being at a comfortable height. i had never made my own milk before. i had never touched a hot bottle the moment its being filled with hot water. mostly, i had never had to pour things from a kettle to a milk bottle. this line of action thing never occurred to me before.

as i shook in fear of scalding myself, i pressed the button to release hot water.

the warmth scared me, but hot water was spilling on the side too.

it hit my hands, ran over it, leaving a mark of sharp pain as i released the bottle to its doom on the floor, falling off my stool, and weeping and crying for help.

i hit the floor on my head, while the stool overturned onto my legs, one part of it being hit by the hot water on the floor too.

i have made a mess in the kitchen, and i was scared what mother would do to me. she came running in, i thought she had pick me up and cradle me.

she started screaming,

“why are you so stupid?!?! why did you make a mess of the kitchen!?!? huh?!?! why do i have such a stupid child as you?? your cousins could cook their own lunch and dinner now (they were about 12?) and look at you!”

“i am sorry..” i sobbed, still hoping she had take me into her arms

“go fuck off, you don’t need to drink any milk today!”

i think, at that point, i was more disappointed in her, than anything else. she was nothing like the moms on television. she was nothing i thought she might be.

i hid in my room and cried even more. i had a rag doll back then, and every time i cried, i cried into her, because i didn’t dare cry too loud, that people may know i have such a bad mother. because everything was my fault. i made her angry, and i was the bad child.

i was bad, and nothing should be pushed onto my mother as her fault.

my happier moments back then, was when my father comes home.

when daddy comes home, he comes home with presents for me. he would hug me and carry me in his strong arms. i would kiss him on the cheek, because i love my dad for coming home to protect me.

protect me from this mother whom i am starting to realise, hates me.

we had a rocking chair back then, with a tattered back because it was with us for a long time.

when daddy goes out to taiwan, i had sit there and rock myself. because when my dad comes home, he had sit there with me on his lap, lying on his chest, just rocking me to sleep.

it felt good to be lying there, even without dad, coz it felt like he was there cuddling my problems away.

then the quarrels started.

as i said, mum work till 11 pm at times, or even 1 am. she had a “factory” of sorts. a shop people could walk into. she brings her work home but she has her own shop to work in. she used to work mostly by herself, although she has helpers, but to save costs, she does the bigger job and only give them small parts to do. like sewing buttons or something. this resulted in very long hours for big orders.

and when we didn’t have maids, it meant i was home alone for the large part of the day when i was deemed to old to be brought to the shop. my mum didn’t like her clients knowing she was married with a child, because she thinks it helps with her business. that if they like her, as a woman, they would probably order more from her to get her attention, to attract her. having a child around means she has less charm.

that day, when dad was already back from taiwan, and i was home alone because he was at work that day, the electricity suddenly turned off. i remembered my dad once saying that if the electricity short circuits or something, the switches are there to turn it on. but me being all young, i somehow thought it was outside of the house rather than inside.

i was scared. i tried to reach through the locked grilles to turn on the lights. i couldn’t reach them, much less know which switch to turn on.

as it hit evening, it turned even darker and darker till i couldn’t see anything. dad was part timing as a chinese medicine doctor by then, and it was one of those days where he was on duty. it was a free service thing, the patients only pay for the medication. he only had to work one week a night, and it was more of a hobby than a real job, it pays really bad.

by 7, the entire apartment was doused in darkness, save the light that came from the stairs landing because i was scared of the dark and left the door open. i forced myself to sleep, in the lonely flat, on a lonely queen size bed. the smells of my parents luring me to sleep amidst my fear, hunger and lonliness.

“lihuan… lihuan…”

my dad’s voice soothingly called me awake. i ran out, in tears from pent up fear, rushing to the grills, climbing up it to face my dad at the same height, scared shitless from the darkness. he was surprised to see a dark home, and being an ex policeman, was instantly alerted because it was dark and the door was open, but the grilles were locked.

“what happened?”

“daddy..” i sobbed like an idiot “the lights went off daddy, i am sorry, i don’t know what to do, i am scared, they won’t come back on.. mum isn’t back yet, she said she be back, she never came back..”

in my rush to explain everything, the words tumbled out in a row, one after another, between tears, gulps for fresh air, while my dad tried to unlock the grilles to calm me down and hold me in his arms as i cried even more.

“don’t cry, it’s ok. i am back now ok? see the switch here? if it goes off again, just flip this big one on.”

all along, the switch was just beside the grills to the left.

all along, this stupid thing that terrorised me could have been resolved, and i didn’t know.

my dad was angry, i could see it simmering in him, but i didn’t dare to question. he made my milk for me, which was a huge part of all my meals when i was young because there was often no one home. i was finally weaned off bottled milk when i was in primary 2. even the maids were taught to give me milk if they have no time to cook.

it was 10 at night by then, when i was fed by my dad on his lap, in tears, and he turned off the lights, left the door open like i did when he found me after work. his body heat was rising, and i could smell the anger growing.

at 11, my mum suddenly appeared, shadows covering her face as lights fell from her back to the doors.

her shock was obvious as she asked “what happened here?”