reality 8: “the drift”

13 Years Before

“Dad, come read to me.” Ayn whispered, tugging at his father’s sleeve. Unfortunately, his father tugged his sleeve back, his eyes not leaving his computer.

“Dad…” Ayn whined softly, disappointed.

His father sighed and rubbed his palm against his eyes. He turned towards his son. “Ayn, I’m a little busy right now. I’ll read to you tomorrow, okay?”

“But…” You said that yesterday and the day before yesterday and the day before that, Ayn thought dejectedly. He stared at his father for a few more seconds, but he did not turn his gaze even once. 

Ayn grabbed Avra from the floor and hugged the doll tightly. With a dejected heart, he slowly turned away from his father and returned to his room.

When he arrived at his room and climbed his bed, Ayn felt a small chill. The room felt colder these days and he didn’t know why. The windows were always tightly shut and the room didn’t have any air conditioning or a fan. Ayn tugged at the blanket and curled up with his doll in his arms. 

These past few weeks, he had been missing his father’s storytelling. Everyday, Ayn would tug on his father’s sleeve and ask him for a story, but he always refused and said that he was busy. It had been weeks now and his father refused to even tuck him in.

Did I do something wrong? Ayn thought to himself as he closed his eyes. I’m sorry, dad.

10 Years Before

“Your dad is no longer welcomed in this house.” 

Ayn blinked, staring at his mother’s blank expression. Both of them were sitting across from each other at the dining table, their lunch in front of them. They had been quiet before, but then his mother decided to tell him the news.

“Not...welcomed?” Ayn asked confusedly, his dangling legs stopping their movement.

“Yes. He’s moved out and can longer step inside this house.”

Ayn froze in his seat. The fork in his hand fell and clanged against the plastic plate. Usually, his mother would’ve scolded him for that, but today she didn’t even bother. She wasn’t even looking at him at all.

After moments of silence, Ayn finally managed to speak. “But…why? Did he do something wrong?”

No answer, but Ayn pushed. “Mom, tell me!”

His mother, patience running thin, slammed her fork down on the side of her plate. She sighed and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Does it matter? He’s gone now, and we’re better off without him.”

“But why didn’t he say anything? He…” loves me. He was his father. He was the person who comforted him when he was scared and read him magical stories.

Or he used to.

The last two years or so, Ayn felt that his father was drifting away from him slowly. He stopped telling stories, he stopped tucking him in, and then…he even stopped smiling at him and sometimes would even speak so coldly. 

Maybe he didn’t tell me because…

“Isn’t the answer obvious?” Every word from his mother’s lips taunted him, each one piercing his wavering heart. “He doesn’t love you anymore. He’s sick of us, he wanted to leave.”

Ayn stared at his fingers in shock, his shoulder trembling in a swirl of disbelief, sadness and anger. 

“I’m going to my room.” Ayn pushed away from the table and left for his bedroom, his footing unstable and shaky.

Once in his safe haven, he let himself fall on his bed face first. His mind swirled with all sorts of reasons and excuses, but a single fact lingered on his mind. He doesn't love you anymore. The words were like thorny vines wrapped around him, piercing and digging into his skin everytime it moved.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the red haired doll staring back at him with their ever-present cute smile. He loved that doll so much, and yet it only reminded him of the person who gifted it to him.

No. No, he needed to be absolutely sure! He needed confirmation.

Ayn pulled out his cellphone from his pants pocket and pushed the buttons to dial his father’s cell. He waited and waited, each dial tone making him even more nervous and anxious.

“Hello…?” The voice spoke when the call came through.

Excited, Ayn couldn’t help but call out to his father happily. If he picked up the phone, surely his father had not abandoned him like his mother said. “Dad, why did you-”

“Ayn?” His father sounded confused and more importantly, extremely listless.

“Yes, it’s me.” Ayn couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread running through him.

“Ayn listen,” His father started, sighing. Ayn could imagine him running his fingers through his hair. “You can’t meet me anymore.”

“D-dad? But…why?” Ayn had to tighten his grip on the phone, scared that he would drop it and lose his father.

“You just can’t anymore, alright. Your mother won’t like that and you need to listen to what she says.”

Ayn felt his heart growing a little bit more numb as the conversation progressed. “Is what she said true? You don’t love me anymore?”

Silence for a moment and then. “Ayn, of course I love you. Why would you ever think that I don’t?”

Those words should’ve comforted him, but it didn’t. He couldn’t accept those words. Everytime he tried, his mind would fight against it.

Ayn, I’m busy. Let’s do it tomorrow?

You can’t meet me anymore.

He doesn’t love you anymore. 

Completely numb, Ayn could only hum as an answer. His father gave him more silence, giving no indication of whether or not he noticed. After that, his father gave him words that Ayn knew all too well.

“Ayn, I’m a little busy right now, so…” A pause of uncertainty. “We can’t meet but a call once in a while is alright. We’ll talk more some other time, okay?”

With a click, the call was over. 

This was the very last call that Ayn made to his father. Later, his father would ring his mobile, call after call, endless attempts. 

Yet Ayn ignored it all.