Hi everyone, my nickname is a bit ironic because Wei Xiaobao, the fictional character, is a renown womanizer and did ended up marry to 7 women at once. Well his story may enrage a lot of modern feminists, me think. But up course, in my opinion, the truest relationship had always been his friendship with the emperor Kangxi. Anyhow, and I am not Chinese. So yeah, if you want to know me further, I supposed you can read my supposedly fictional story below. It is fictitious because my creative writing teacher kinda ban nonfiction story. But it is as true as my faulty memory is concern about the happiest time of my life. But I don't think you got that sense while reading it but it was the only time in my life I felt I truly live. And thank you to Dien, Nam, Hung, Kien, and etc, because they did save my life then. Thank you for the friends that I had lost since I left for the USA. This story base on my life and the events surround it. Though the sequence of the story is shaky due to me being a child at the time. It has to do with bullying, child sexual abuse, domestic abuse, friendship, first crush, etc. It a tad long and my English sucks. Sorry. Spoiler -Fade- In the dark The thing about memories is that it isn't a linear progression but a cluster fuck of scenes, and faces, and emotions. Memories are mostly false because we can only view them from the lenses of our current selves. I would argue it is close to impossible to empathize with that little boy in my past. Neglecting all his wants, needs, and desires, all I wanted was trying to place the blame on how fuck up I had become. Years ago, when my mind had started to comprehend the notion of family, my own family was doom beyond saving. After a series of chain reaction began with my dad's addiction to alcoholism and gambling, the debacle of the Bank incident in 1997, the closest in which I came to dying, marked an end to the era of my earliest childhood. During this time, I found myself living like vagabond moving from one place to another, hiding from my dad. By the height of youth, my mum and I settled down into the neighborhood. And so the story began. Immediately north of the former Saigon, the neighborhood situated in the blooming industries of the South Vietnam. Amidst Taiwanese and American companies, the neighborhood was rather isolated and peaceful, composing of two rows of houses, wall to wall, and a narrow strip of road in between. As soon as we moved in, my mum erected metal fences and gated the front yard. She thought those are necessary security measures for when she was out at work and or studying computer programming in the city during the evenings. During those early afternoons, I found myself all alone, spending most of my time align my toys in rows. Triceratops, Brachiosaurus, Stegosaurus, Tiger, Crocodile, Lion, ... and my prize Tyrannosaurus Rex towered over the others. I never was that kid who threw tantrums in the store. However, I admit, I do have emotional attachment to objects at first sight. The first time I met my T-Rex, I was astonish that it was three times bigger than the other large animal models I owned. Similar to many prior events, I sat in one place and stared at it silently and without blinking while my mum out about doing her own business. A few days later she bought it for me without me ever brought it up in conversations. The neighborhood kids watched curiously from the fence. Sometimes when I was out of sight, there were rumors of me being eaten alive by the boa that was owned and set loose by the previous owner of the house. Though, I take comfort in the sound of other children playing outside. Afternoon became evening, and the sky began to cascade with raindrops. The narrow road steered clear of children. Accompanied the heavy rain, the electricity went out. I found myself on my bed, with my back against the corner of the wall, intently watching the darkness of the long corridor for any sudden movement. I tried to speak, though no words came out at first. Spending too many hours by myself, sometimes, I just forgot how to talk all together. "I'm not afraid of you....." The darkness remained still and unresponsive. I tried to think about penises. One thing about monsters is that they don't eat little boys who think about penises. Monsters don't eat inappropriate things. They want to reduce you into a lumpy piece of beating heart of a scare little mouse, then they devoured you alive. I broke out a nervous smile, trying to be brave. In the darkness, a man with a white birth scar under his belly button whispered, "Can you keep a secret?" A secret among secrets, a secret that I had been carry for the past five years. A secret that I will continue to carry for another thirteen years of my life. The rain drizzled to a stop, the clouds cleared up revealing the moon. The light came back on for the houses on the other side. My heart paced faster in the darkness. Hours melted into the night. Điền One afternoon, I met Điền while sitting on the swing chair on my front yard. "What are ya reading?" I look up to see a handsome older boy who is in his mid teen, his sideburns cut off at the jaw line. On his side was an old bike, and a long thin wooden stick with a noose rested on his shoulder. I stood up and come over to the fence. Slipping my hand in between the metal bars, I showed him the manga called Doreamon, the cover was laminated by my mum. "Oh cool, you just move in? I haven't seen you around before? And I'm Điền, by the way." I nodded, then pointed at the stick. "Oh this, I used to capture some lizards. Wanna see?" Điền picked up a metal can from the ground and unlid at an angle to reveal a gray head with veins throbbing on the long neck. At the first sight of light, the lizard tried to leap up clawing futile against the tin can gaining no traction. Its tail thrashed the bottom of the can swaying its olive back. "You see the noose at the end of the stick. Lizards are stupid. Just put the noose in front of them, they got spook and think they could just leap out of it. All I have to do is jerk the stick when it is half way through.... You got a name?" "Ty." "Anyhow, if you like manga. I got a few collection of my own. You can come and visit me anytime. My house is just outside of this place, on the other side of the main street." That afternoon, I had my first conversation in a while. Through the fence, we exchanged knowledge about Dragon Ball and Detective Conan. And I were happy. ---------------------------------- When mum arrived home that day, I jolted out of the house. Running with my hands horizontally outward imitating an airplane, I rushed through the leaves, slightly paused at an old abandoned house, and then head off from the neighborhood. The first main street was wide but has low to no traffic. Điền's home was on the opposite side of the local convenient store. Although, it is indistinguishable from the other houses, but it is in the corner of the block and facing the main street. Right next to the house is a small alley, walled in on the right side. To the right of it, a three storied high small mansion towering over the rest. The wall was the great divider of the have and have not. "Hey!!!" Điền called out to me before I spotted him. I peaked inside to see a bedroom sized home, Điền and his mum were peeling the skins of cashew nuts for a nearby corporations, their only source of income. Right away, it was obvious that Điền inherited most of his look from his mum, but not his height since she was small in stature. Điền's family of five piled into this small living quarter every night. His mum and dad occupied a small mattress, his younger siblings stuck in the middle on the floor, while Điền who lucky enough to have his own personal space near the wall. The thing about memories is that no one can remember every details of every instances. No one can really remember the moment when awkward phases between strangers faded out, and mutual interactions were just natural. When was it that I started to became a part of Điền's family. When was it that I started to became their free worker, helping Điền finished his chores. When was it that his family started to offering me supper, what little they could afford in the form of packages of ramen noodle soup. Before I realized, this less than humble place would be my second home. Điền kept all of his most valuable belongings in a large cookie tin can, his collections of Dragon Quest, Kattobi Itto, and Ore wa Teppei. Điền showed me his world, pages and pages of stretch: monsters and dragons from Dai No Daiboken, ninjas from Nintama Rantaro, and super saiyans from Dragon Ball. Some were on scraps of paper, others were on the inner side of cigarette boxes. I loved observing Điền when he draw, his eyes were so focused as if you can see glimmers of determination. His pen made no wrong stroke, gliding smoothly on the blank canvas. It was magic, the ways things came out of nothing. Lines shaped into moving bodies. Shading turned into judging eyes. Motion of Điền's hand turned into life. Điền was especially good at imitating artists like Yu-Gi-Oh's Takahashi Kazuki and Dragon Ball's Akira Toriyama. Though, I admit, he was horrid at drawing real life. His stretch of a girl he like back in his home town, Cà Mau, was my least favorite among his works. I never quite get what he like in her. I stole 50,000 Dong from my swan bank by breaking the tip of its tail and then put it back together by glue. I gave to Điền as a gift so he could buy some of his art supplies. Instead he bought me a really nice leather-bound notebook. He would draw so many things in it for me like Caterpie, Son Goku, and Doreamon. Sometimes, Điền would ask me about any concept I have that I wanted him to draw. Usually, I got nothing. Then he would said, "It would be great if someday, you can write a story. You know, a real good one. Then I can draw about it. We can make a manga, together." Football For the first time in a really long time, I actually had something to look forward to in my days. I found myself sped out of the house as soon as mum get home. Spending all afternoon at Điền's place making paper kites, board game, or play football. Điền taught me how to pass the ball from the medial side of my feet, and how to kick it so it flew off the ground. In the alley, between the walls that separate the rich and the poor, all of us gathered. The montage of memories started to play. Jolly screams of lads. The dirt between the toes of my feet. The naked sole of my forefoot pressed against the ground. The collision of the ball into my thigh. There was Nam, son of doctors, my neighbor from across the street. Nam with dimples on both cheeks, who hate getting pinch, who became my first best friend. The ball dragged across the ground, dribbled between my legs. With one slight kick, the ball bounced from the wall into Hưng, my partner in crime. Hưng who would borrowed your stuff scratched out your name and said it was his. Điền intercepted the ball quickly, but Toàn, the neighborhood bully, was hot in his heels. Điền out maneuvered Toàn rushing toward the goal line between two sandals, passing Kiến and Quý. The only thing between Điền and the goal was Tadpole, my next door neighbor, daughter of a police officer. Điền shoot the ball. I came from the side. Bam, the momentum of the ball squished against my face. My brain felt like jelly in its socket. My feet was off the ground for a moment as if I was flying, only for a moment later my body crashed down onto the earth. "Damn, nice use of your face, Ty!!!" "Nice save, Ty....." I didn't know if I was having a concussion or that I was blushing. My face felt hot. As I look into the sky, the sunlight pierced though a thicket of clouds, there was this rush of happiness. The sort of feeling you can't really describe. As if, you are this piece that fit. As if you had a function. Like you are useful. Like you belonged. Ma Faces. So many familiar faces. The same faces that unchanged in a decade, the same faces sometime I dreamt about. They save my life with their friendship. The sort of friendship that was never questioned, never ask, just mutually understood. Rollercoaster sort of relationship, but when it count, they were presence. Nam put all the force onto his back pulled onto the metal rail so that there were a horizontal gap between the rail and the concrete mount. "Come on, Ty." I tried to fit through the gap and laid down on my stomach as the rails recoiled back leaving scratches on my back. That was the first time, I broke out of my house. It was the only period in my life that I never seemed to be indoor. The house of Điền seemed to be smaller with each additional members, but Điền's chores seemed to get done much faster overtime. We spent so much time playing football. It was our fear of being the losers that matches extended sometimes into the rains, and evenings. "Ty, it 4:45, shit.." "Shit, did you see my mum drive by yet?" "No..." "Goddam." I hurried home as quickly as I could, but mum's motor scooter already parked in the front yard. Blood seemed to drained from my face leaving an empty shell. I pulled down my pants a bit hiding my scrapped knee. I tried to sneak back into the house as quiet as possible. Once I got into the bedroom, I didn't see mum anywhere. "Hưng's grandpa was just here." I didn't know if my guts just get heavier or that the inside of me just went missing. I turned around to see her, but I can't read her face. The wooden meter stick was at her side. "Please, mum" "Hưng's grandpa said you threw a bag of caterpillars in his house, yesterday." I didn't tried to deny it, since it only made the torture longer. I didn't tell her that Hưng has been stealing manga from me. I just wanted to have a payback. She pushed my face onto the bed. "Please, mum." I held my hands out to cover my buttock but the ruler swooshed through the air and cracked through my fingers. I yelped at withdraw my numb hands immediately. "Where did you even get that bag, anyway?" My voice was unintelligent, high pitched, and unable to form a proper sentence. "Someone burned their thrashes... I found it like that." Another swoosh went through the air. "Ty, why don't you ever listen to me. Are you going to be like your dad?" "No, Ma" Another swoosh. "Why don't you ever listen to me. You choose to live here. You were the one that came running to me. Remember, when you were four, you ran away from your dad." Swooshed. "You saw that I was sleeping and you imitated the sound of the rooster. I'm sorry, Ty...... I'm sorry, Ty" My mum broke down crying. My mum, the bionic woman, the one that never cried. She didn't cried, when my dad lashed her with the metal bar over and over. I was there on my bed frozen in place. She gave him that look like nothing he could have done would ever hurt her. So he took me on his motor scooter, driving circles in the rain. He knew how to break her. I couldn't cry because mum was crying. "I'm sorry, I'm a horrible mother." She rubbed the green elixir ointment on my buttock. The area became extremely warm as she hold me tightly. "I love you...... mum," I tried to sucked in my snots. Even at nine, I knew how broken she was. And how broken I was. "I will leave the keys at home for you from now on. Remember to lock the door when you leave." The Leather Notebook The worst thing about memories are the monsters that hiding within them. The man with the white birth scar under his belly button. The back of my dad, and his afro, as he drove into the rain. Sometimes, I wanted to forget. Sometimes, I want to kill that little boy in my past. He never existed. His voice was never heard. Sometimes he confronted me, he gave me a look like I am a great disappointment to him. I can't never quite look into his eyes, his accusing eyes. In my childhood, I had went to three elementary schools, three middle schools, and two high schools. Even though, everything changed constantly, the one thing that remained constant is that I always was the new kid. I tried to be friendly as much as possible, lending out my stack of manga, only later to realize the stack shrunk little by little each weeks. I befriended Hậu, another outsider. Hậu was the kid that always said dumb things. Hậu, whose massive head was disproportional to his body, always get tease by his peers. Hậu was the only person that I shared my most prized possession, my leather notebook full of Điền's stretches. Despite school was six times a week, most of my memories of it had already been blank out. Digging deeper and deeper, I recalled this dread of waking up each morning getting ready for school. But that dread wasn't because of the slap I received from the principle for repeating a bad word, that I didn't understand, from a peer. It wasn't third grade when I failed to get into the top ten in class, and hide under my desk that entire last day. No one even notice I was there. It wasn't even the time when my math teacher make an example out of me for cheating, though ignorant to the fact that my bad eyesight required me to copy just the problem from the one next to me because I were too tall to sit near the blackboard. For it is outlandish to think a new student could have solve an advance problem. My mum was so upset about it, and that weekend I had my first pair of glasses. He was the same teacher who would pat on my shoulder at the end of the semester and congratulated me for ranking number one in the class. It was his short term memory about how much harder he hit me, the more I refuse to accept the crime of cheating. He probably congratulated himself on how well he taught me. His lesson was the bitterest pill that I had ever swallowed. Though, it wasn't that either. The thing about memories is that sometimes you don't know where it led you. Sometimes, you don't remember how you got there. You can only remember that one particular moment but never what prior to it. There were laughter. There was a hand on my face, pressing my head down. A pair of arms on my neck. Someone had pulled down my pants. "Thịnh wear panties like a girl........" I hate that name. It was forced upon me since the first day of school. That's was my legal name. The name I didn't even know I have until I was six. In an all boy private school, the norm was to go commando, and apparently I committed some sort of sin. I struggled a bit against three boys, though my one day of martial art training failed to equip me the ability to defend myself against a scenario of being jump by three guys, in which was the gayest experience I ever had with three heterosexual males. As they laughed, I just laid there as if something in me had just die. It feel like my body was decaying, and all that left was the bare heart's beats. It feel like when you are in this infinite white room, and all you wanted is a corner of your own to sit in. Must have been an eternity before I got up and clothed myself, with my underwear is now in my pocket. Recess wasn't over when I returned to my classroom, I found my leather notebook missing and Hậu stood shadily at the door. When I look at him, he just turned and ran so I gave chase. "Gave it back to me!!!!!" Hậu seemed to taunt me into chasing him even more. I ran him up and down the stairs and around the school. Once I pinned him down to the floor, I was a sobbing mess, my breathing was irregular. "Give it... back to me." "I don't have it..." "Liar....." I wanted to punch his massive head real bad. I raised my arm and all. But in the end, I couldn't. I am a goddam pacifist. Hậu gave me this disgusting look as if he never seen something more pathetic in his life. My dad would have done it. Unlike my mum, my dad never hit me. My dad who spent most of his youth in the jungle and had badgers and skunks for dinner. My dad who would never afraid to throw his fist on anybody's face. My dad who was wrestling the bank guard for the gun, as my mum screaming from the side. I was laying there on the grass, overdose with anti-malaria tablets. When the tablets didn't work, my dad wanted things to end quickly and tried to bash my head with a rock. All I remembered was being pick up and carry away. "Don't swallow, Ty...." "Try to throw up...." I love my dad like any other little boys love their dad. I love him even after he tried to commit the mutual suicide when the divorce is finalized. I tried so hard to revive my parents' marriage later on. Only until I was no longer a boy that I grew to hate him. Even then, in dreams, he was still there, and I was still his little boy. I found my leather notebook on my desk once I returned to class. Pages were ripped and the notebook was damped as if it was in the toilet somewhere. After that day, Hậu became one of the guys. Fade Điền was really mad at me afterward, "you got to stand up for yourself." Điền continuously rants at me for almost half an hour, as if I didn't appreciate how much work he had put into that notebook. I wanted to say a lot of things, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to be like Nobita, the protagonist of Doreamon. Nobita who get bullied. Nobita who let his friends down. Nobita who always had excuses. I didn't came to see Điền a few days afterward. On the third day, he showed up my gate. "What are ya reading?" "Are you still mad at me? "Meh, you want to go downtown with me tomorrow?" "Yeah, if you are cool with it." "Okay, deal, see ya tomorrow." My mum grew to like Điền very much, and gave me quite a bit of cash since she knew Điền didn't really have any money. The next day, I sat on the back of Điền's bicycle and we rode downtown. We stopped at a used manga shop, and picked up some manga volumes. We had bowls of Phở, and then went shopping for some cool stuffs. I like it being on the back of Điền's bicycle, my hands around his slender abdomen, my face against his sturdy back, I can heard his heartbeats. On the way back, the bike trembled. "Is this normal?" "Quit being a baby... everything will be alright, just hold on to me tighter." We were going down a steep slope. The bike shook uncontrollably and then exploded underneath us. Everything happened so fast and so sudden. I lost my balance for a second, the momentum of the bike threw me a few feet ahead. "Are you okay?" Điền asked after having almost half a minute to take everything all in. I let out a sound in response. "If you are fine, come help me hide the bike in the bush. I will have to come back and get it later." Điền was unusually calm. The main frame of the bike was intact but parts of the paddle and one of the wheel broke off. We hid it on the side road, and continue to walk home. By the time we passed Phi Long corporation where my mum worked, the sun has already set. The gentle twilight illuminated the distance. "You know there is a reason I ask you to come today." Điền's face was shadowed so I couldn't read his expression. "My family is moving back to Cà Mau next week," Điền continued, "But yeah, Ty, you got to stand up for yourself sometimes." "When are you coming back?" "Dunno..." I couldn't find anything to say. So I stayed real quiet, and just walk side by side with him. We passed the bank where my mum used to work. My mum and I used to live in the bank living quarter until she got fired because dad was causing so much trouble. "Are you marrying that girl when you got back to Cà Mau?" Điền let out a laugh, "Dunno, Ty. I meant I am like really young." I wanted to hold his hand, but it seemed so far away. I took in a deep breath of the Autumn air trying to remember this moment. The sound of the night started as we walked into the dusk. ---------------------------------- Điền moved away while I was in class. Once I got out of school, his place was already empty. For the next few weeks, I would paused at Điền's home watching the vacancy looking for ghosts. ---------------------------------- The thing about memories is that it isn't a story. They do not have a good comedic timing. Moments are not genre. People are not archetypes. The thing about memories is that they are not logical, they don't really fit neatly into a movie's plot. They don't flow well. The thing about memories is that sometimes they brought no closure. Sometimes, we already knew that the character won't live happy ever after. Somewhere in me, Ty still lived on. I can't no longer said I am him. Sometimes, I forgot what it was to be him. All of his anguishes. All of his hopes. 11/23/2012 to 12/04/2012 1:29 AM
