My breath is running heavy and I’m yet again filled with the same undoubted anger running inside my brain cells. My hands are shaking terribly while I fill up the hospital form for the second time in this year. They carry him in with the help of the stretcher and seeing him messing around his life like a child just breaks me from inside everytime. “Why does he do that?” I question myself, waiting outside the operation theatre.
The dark hospital corridors has always left me with an usual feeling inside my stomach. It has been five years now and it feels like it has dwelled in my life as if it’s a huge of part of it. Being a seventeen year old hasn’t ever been easier for me and life has been getting quite hard on me since a time now. But it’s okay, I’m getting used to it. We all do!
While I plug in my earphones, I find Kuhad calming down my soul a bit. He has been the person you know? The one who has always given me an imaginary comforting hug through the minute beauty of his soothing vocals.
Quite a few songs pass on and when I open my eyes, I see mom rushing down towards me.
“How is he now?”, “Has the blood spilled way too much?” and the series of question just goes on and on.
“Sssssshhhhh, calm down first maa” I reply. “He is going to be alright don’t worry, come sit with me.”
I hate it when mom cries, specially when it’s because of dad. I have seen her going through a lot, like genuinely a hell lot. 23 years of being together with him hasn’t been easier at all and if not anybody, atleast I do understand the pain. Afterall, I’ve gone through it as well. I know she’s going to cry in a while now. Why not? We’re here in the hospital again, seeing dad fighting away something that has affected him the most. Yes it affects him, but unknowingly; unknowingly enough to drill away his liver, with each passing day.
Doctors suggest us to get him into a rehab, but mom has never wanted it. How could she? She knows that dad won’t be able to survive it. She knows that before anything happens, he will jump off if he doesn’t get his daily doses of hard whiskey.
“It’s going to take the whole night I suppose? The car hit his head a bit deeper than the last time.” I tell mom.
“Let’s go get some coffee from the canteen.” she says while passing on a smile.
Source: Vice
I see the pain hidden under that mere smile of hers but I prefer not to talk about it right now. Sipping down the coffee I notice mom being lost into her world of thoughts. She is probably revisiting herself into the time when the car hit dad tonight. His driving has always been rash and when he’s down with a few drinks, I can imagine how hard he had driving tonight. I decide not to talk much and let her be. She likes to be left with her thoughts sometimes.
While on one hand I see mom being surrounded by her own thoughts, on the other I find myself into mine as well.
At some point of time, I do feel that I necessarily have to stay strong to my roots. If not for anyone else, atleast for mom. She has literally been my whole life. I feel that maybe she doesn’t want anybody else than me by her side but she fails to to let me know about it; to let me know how much she loves me. It often comes to my mind that how good it’d have been if life would have been only about me and my mom. I honestly do not feel the need to guided by my dad, even if it sounds imperfectly vague. But what about the love that mom has? What about all those times when my parents used to be a normal couple, filled with all the happiness needed in a relationship. I wish I could meet the high school version of my parents. Things were surely much severely beautiful back then, than what it is now.
Every couple loses it’s essence with time, as they say. Probably they do, but when I see dad, I cannot stop myself from questioning his sincerity. I’ve never heard stories from him, never found him surprising me when I was a kid, has never seen him taking me out for a movie and a dinner. Something is weird with him I guess, maybe it’s the love for being deep into alcoholism or an unusual interest for something beyond us. Things have always been confusing.
I prefer mom to leave him everyday. Mom doesn’t come up with any kind of a reaction, she just smiles and says that she cannot. She loves him afterall. I doubt if he does.
Life has been getting quite unpredictable now. He has been quite unpredictable. I guess this is my life, this is what it is all about for now. This is what about being a seventeen year old teenager for me now.
We all have our own stories to narrate and a million among us don’t. They do not feel the need to, probably because they’re scared of being judged. I was too, but not anymore.
Afterall, being a seventeen year old teenager is difficult and the world should know!
