“For 10 months, she went through all kinds of pain holding you inside of her stomach before giving birth to you. The very first person to smile when you came to this world was your mother, the first person to cry for you when you got hurt for the first time was also your mother. Son. Know your place. How dare you say such immoral words like kicking out your own mother.”
I snickered.
“How shameless.”
“What?”
“This is not my problem. This your problem, father. Because of a single mother, 6 of your children are being abused. It’s simple math. Will you save 1, or save the other 6. Throw away irritating words like immoral. There are no humans as ethically trash as you, father. None.”
“……”
“This will be the last time that I will request something from you regarding this topic, father. For good. So give me a serious response. Will you divorce my mother?”
My father went silent.
He stayed silent for over 40 minutes.
The reason why I remembered the time exactly was because I had glared at the wristwatch my father had on. It was around the time 11am was crossing over to 12 in the afternoon.
“I can’t.”
Damn 12 in the afternoon.
Since that moment, I despised this time permanently. My habit of refusing to wake up in the morning originated from here too. I will be saying this again but. I utterly despised the morning and noon.
“……Why not?”
“Because I love your mother.”
“That is a really, immensely, disappointing answer. Then does that mean you do not love your children, father? Do you not care if your wife were to kill all of your children?”
“Yes.”
And thus I could never forget this moment.
Like a sculptor using a hammer and nail to engrave a mark on my brain.
A type of trauma was embedded.
“I love your mother that much.”
“……”
“I’m sorry, son.”
“……Just now, father.”
I gulped.
It might not have only been saliva that I had swallowed down.
“Father, you had just now lost all of my trust.”
“I know.”
“Father, you had just now ruined my life.”
“I know that as well.”
My father nodded.
“No matter what you choose, you will live a life more harsh than I.”
This damn father.
I truly detested you.
“……Let me ask one last thing. If this was a normal question…… You would obviously sacrifice 1 person for 6. That’s the kind of person you are, father. But, because of the thing so-called love, are you telling me that you’re choosing to select 1 over the 6?”
“That’s right.”
“If that love of yours, father, is only making you weak, then what is the point of love?”
My father did not answer.
It was because he could not answer.
I bit my lips and cursed.
“I feel ashamed to look at my own weak father. Do you understand? I am ashamed to death. In the end you could not choose anything, father. You really are that, that damn indecisive.”
At that time ‘damn’ was the highest level of curse that I knew.
I did not know how to use curses that were more terrible than that.
Did I not say so already?
Even I had a time when I was pure.