Comrade Old Manoban, aka my dad, formally retired February of this year. Old Manoban who has been toiling hard his whole life couldn’t sit still after just having spent half a month idling at home. It so happened that the Senior Citizen’s club in our town was recruiting members, so he went off. Once he got there, he then realised that his 50-something age was considered to be youthful and the backbone in the Senior Citizen’s club where the average age was 70 years old. Hence, Old Manoban’s passion that had laid dormant for so long was ignited. Every day, he’d be riding his bike going to the club to organize recreational activities for the members. That wave of enthusiasm was an entire time of burning passion.
Except that before his passion had burnt time, time first made a display of strength and authority over him. He, this old man, while climbing on a stool to hang their activity banner, stepped his foot on air, causing him to fall down.
When I got a call from my mum, I was on the highway, looking out at the billboards, and was so frightened that my entire body broke out into a cold sweat though it was really one sunny day. Even though I was always being beaten by Old Manoban when I was young, I had also been thinking of beating him as soon as I grew up. But despite that, I really love him.
On the way to the hospital, I kept on crying while blabbering endlessly to the cab driver all the good things about my dad. The driver, a 7-feet tall sturdy-looking man, was seemingly moved by me, and floored the gas to its maximum extent the entire journey. When I paid him, he offered to just round up the fare, and told me, “Young child, remember my plate number, XXXX, by all means, don’t flag down my cab again. I have a blabbermouth wife and mom at home so when I listen to other people blabbering nonstop I can’t help but tremble. Forgive me, I wish your father a speedy recovery.”
………
I rushed inside the hospital, crying. When I got there my mum was paring apples while scolding my dad, “Your weary old body is still considered backbone? Fall one more time and I’ll push you straight to cremation. Your backbone I’ll upgrade it into bone ash.
I held unto the door frame, in tears, “Mum, how’s dad?”
Mum looked up at me, “Oh, stop crying, what are you crying for, I’ve endured so much to raise you just so your face won’t be covered in snot and tears.”
I held back my tears and went over to sympathize with the old man who has been oppressed for such a long time, “Dad, are you alright?”
My dad looked helplessly at the apple my mum was holding, “No, your mum already pared three apples, and didn’t even give me one to eat.”
I‘ve been thinking there was no way of knowing things straight from their mouth, hence, I simply picked up the thermos and said, “I’ll go get hot water.”
I went straight to the nurse’s station carrying the thermos, and didn’t mind my mum who was shouting behind me, “This damn child, the thermos is full!”
Probably because I looked too menacing, the nurse quickly got the doctor. The doctor described my dad’s condition with a blank face, he said the fall affected his lower back — the vertebra was compressing the nerves. In other words, he needs to go through surgery, and made me prepare 30,000 bucks.
I asked the doctor a few specific questions but he gave me a pointed look, “If I were to explain it to you, you still wouldn’t be able to understand it, just prepare the money alright? Leave the rest to us doctors.” I asked again, “Then, when’s the surgery?”
He said impatiently, “Line up, when it reaches your turn then we’ll do it.”
I was itching to cough out a big mouthful of thick phlegm on his face, and then tell him, “Sorry, I have tuberculosis.”
But I couldn’t, I could only fish out a few hundred bills from my pocket, and force it on him, “Then, I can only bother you to take care of it……”
He glared at me and pushed away the money, “What are you doing?! I understand your sentiment as a family member but this is against the hospital regulations! You really don’t have to worry, I will find time to give you a detailed explanation.”
I was so beside myself with guilt, thinking that I pinned my narrow-minded yardstick* to gauge a gentleman‘s heart, that some doctors were just born ill-tempered. As I was deeply reflecting on my personal integrity, the doctor then turned around to leave, but before leaving, he raised his chin and gave me a meaningful look. I pondered for a long while, thinking if he was having cramps, or if he was implying something else with his action, till I copied him and raised my chin as well, only then did I understand — a CCTV was mounted on the wall……
(T/N: To judge a person’s actions with one’s narrowed perspective.)
I was just about to ask the nurse where the doctor’s office was located when my phone rang. I fished it out and looked at who it was. My heartbeat quickly went downhill at lightning speed, as if stepping on an accelerator, that I’ve almost wanted to go to to the Cardiology department to get myself checked.
Jungkook, my ex-boyfriend.
Shaking, I politely picked up the call, “Hello?”
I’ve been saying ‘hello’ for a very long time, but all I could hear was a cacophonous of noise, it seems as though he had just accidentally pressed the phone. I was about to hang up the call but I heard a old raspy male voice saying, “Doctor, my chest hurts.”
It was only then that I remembered how Jungkook as a doctor now, was said to have a bit of reputation. I hung up the phone, confused for a while, then finally decided that if I have to wallow in the darkness of our country’s healthcare system, I might as well be transferred to the hospital where Jungkook was working. On the account that I’ve helped him peel around thousands of tea eggs back in the days, he has to consider that somehow, right?
I went back to tell my mum regarding this matter, and she told me, “Jungkook, that kid whom you had a puppy love back then?”
Uh……..your memory sure knows the more important parts.
Mum asked again, “If we go to the hospital he’s working at, will he help us? I mean does both of you still have mutual affection?”
Truly a “hit the nail on the head” question, I stammered, “He will help us that’s for sure, it’s just that……..”
“Just what?”
“It’s only that, our current situation is something scissors couldn’t sever, and when sorted out, is tangled again*.”
(T/N: too complicated)
The old lady scoffed, “Stop using big words on me. If you can’t cut it with scissors then shave it all up! You are going to contact him right now. Your dad must be transferred tomorrow. I can’t stand that bastard doctor here anymore.”
I was expecting for my mum to tell me lovingly, “Child, we must have integrity, ex-boyfriends and what not, one shouldn’t go around bothering them.” But sure enough, I’ve really overestimated my mum this time.
Jungkook showed no hints of being surprised when he got my call that it made me want to become a doctor, they’re so used to seeing strong winds and big waves*, even dead bodies and internal organs don’t scare him, how can I, an ex-girlfriend, scare him.
(T/N: difficulties, struggles)
I was stuttering the entire time I was explaining the situation to him, but managed to get the most important point across, “Is it okay to transfer my dad to your hospital?”
“Okay.” He replied concisely that I was too ashamed to mention the thing about helping him peel tea eggs before.
He added, “Get everything ready, I’ll find an ambulance to pick up your dad for the transfer.”
Finally, he was silent for a long time, and then asked me, “You okay?”
Okay.
After hanging up the phone, I clutched my chest and leaned against the wall of the lobby, breathing heavily. A young nurse next to me helped me up, “Are you alright?”
I shook my head, also feeling very glad that at long last I have finally seen the light of humanity in this hospital.
She then went on, “Who did you call just now? It seems like you’re going to be transferred. Do you know some bigshot in other hospitals? Can you introduce me? I only have a month before I finish my internship but I still haven’t found a hospital who would hire me. Can you help me? My grades are actually very good, it’s just that I don’t want to accompany the hospital directors to bed.”
There’s really no other way but for me to be entangled with her, so without any better option I said, “Actually, that person I called is a janitor in a hospital, I promised to accompany him to bed, so he promised to help me ask around if I could transfer.”
………
Three hours later, Jungkook, with an ambulance, whizzed in front of me. I haven’t seen him in three years yet I didn’t dare raise my head to take a good look at him. I just kept on staring at what seems like a very expensive fountain pen inside the pocket of his white coat. I don’t know if he already learnt how to write the new characters used in medicine.
When I was at university, I’ve always been worried about Jungkook, for fear that his beautiful penmanship’s small script would face difficulties in the medical profession. In order for him to achieve a penmanship that would let him evade responsibility even if he prescribed the wrong drug, I once forced him to copy my penmanship. It’s a pity that in the end, he failed to learn its true essence.
Discharging procedures, admitting procedures, Jungkook settled everything by himself. My mum and I were terribly idle, just chatting near the hospital entrance, each holding an apple.
Mum said, “This young man is indeed whom I looked after growing up, really good.”
She made it sound like she should be given credit for looking after him when growing up because he turned out be a good, young man, really shameless.
She added, “Such excellent goods, how did you miss it back then? You’ve almost succeeded.”
I took a bite out of the apple, “Dad is bored being alone in the ambulance, you go eat an apple and make him watch.”
Mum heaved a sigh, then gladly and diligently went to where the ambulance was, yelling while running, “Old man, your daughter made me eat an apple for you to watch.”
Jungkook was holding a large document and some small receipts, when he chanced upon this scene, he smiled and looked doubtfully at me, “You’re really too filial.”
I looked up at him, he was slightly bent over, bowing his head to look at me. The tips of his hair that were drooping were glowing in the morning light. He smiled at me like how he used to, his left cheek was squeezing out a deep dimple, it was as though we just ate and watched movies together yesterday.
I averted my gaze from that sinister dimple, back then my little heart was drunk and fell in that dimple. Now that I think about it, that pit in his face was just a giant fraud.
Jungkook’s existence used to be just like one of those lamp post in the alley. He lives in the house across ours, the mayor’s son, the class monitor, he looks good, could play the piano, writes calligraphy, has good grades, and speaks nice. Television and novels label us boys and girls who are friends, and live awfully close together since young as “childhood sweethearts”, moreover, they generally divide it into two categories : one, the “in love with each other” type. Two people who are close together like siblings, poking honeycombs and getting stung by bees together, stealing sweet potatoes and getting beaten together. By the time the two would look back, only then would they realize that the friendship from long ago has slowly blossomed into love.
The other one is the “sees and hates each other” type. Two people who opposes the other with equal intensity, already itching to rush ahead to bite the other when spotted from a distance. When they get the chance, they’d pull the tire valve of each other’s bikes. But later on, when the two would grow up, they would suddenly realize — Ah! This is true love.
Unfortunately, Jungkook and I are neither of the above mentioned. For a very long time, me and him were simply just neighbours who lived across each other. Him playing his piano daily, me watching Chibi Maruko-chan with enthusiasm. Occasionally, when I’d forget the content in our homework, I would press the doorbell of their house. He would always mock me, and impatiently ask why I didn’t remember. Probably, because I’m seeking out a favour, so I never bickered with him. Of course, it might also be because I don’t like to argue with people since young. I’m someone calm and collected, a bit extraordinarily.
Summer vacation of 2nd year middle school going 3rd year, our class secretly organized a picnic after the exams. During the picnic, Jungkook and I were assigned to wash the sweet potatoes. There were 40 people in our class but we bought 44 sweet potatoes. Jungkook just washed those four extra sweet potatoes, and after that, played skipping stones with the boys on the side.
I was crouching at the lakeside, forced to keep my anger in check while was washing the potatoes. The more I washed, the more I got mad. By then a small slab of rock was dropped right in front of me, and splashed me on the face. As I looked up, Jungkook was putting on an air of nonchalance as though nothing happened. He raised his hand, and a stone skipped across the water surface, piercing its stillness in four beautiful successive skips, along with it were ripples of varying sizes, colliding together and then dissolving.
It was pretty logical for me to have scolded him, splashed water on him, pressed his head into the water, or perhaps, pushed him into the lake to drown.
But I did nothing. I just stared at him with a silly look on my face.
The breeze lifted his loose, white school uniform. The sun was casting a golden light on his lashes and the tips of his hair. The slightly raised corner of his mouth was squeezing out a proud smile adorning his left cheek.
Right there and then, time and space froze leaving only the furious thumping of my heart.