Maximus.

I stood there motionless for a few moments. My trembling hands reached for the doorbell, but I couldn’t bring myself to ring it. “It’s now or never”, I told myself. I took one deep breath and just as I was about to ring that bell, a thousand memories came flooding mind.

Max. That was the sobriquet he gave me. He loved me, he really did. He used to take me to every football match, we ourselves were pretty good footballers. He never failed to leave work early just to send me to the doctor when I fell sick in school. He was there every time I needed someone to talk to. He’s an excellent father, or at least he was.

When I was about five, he started hoarding needles. I never knew for sure what they were. All I knew was every time he injected one of those needles into his body, he would lose all consciousness and he will start behaving recklessly. It was crazy how the most loving person I ever knew could turn into a monster in just a matter of minutes. He would take pieces of furniture and start slamming them on my mother, leaving her wounded. Screams. They still sound as audible as ever. Blood. All over the floor. It was a nightmare unfolding right in front of my eyes.

One fine afternoon, my mother told me to pack my bag and wait for her at the bus stop in front of my school. I had no idea what her intentions were, but she was now the only person I could trust. Hence, I did as I was told. It was a breezy evening. I remember the wind crashing into my freckled face as I waited for my mother. Soon, she appeared with a stack of documents in her hands. “Max, I’m really sorry. It doesn’t matter if you don’t forgive me. But please, just trust me. Please?” she said as she reached out her wounded hand. I couldn’t make sense of her words, but somehow I remember exactly how it sounded.

Dark alleys. Blood red skies. A few turns to the right and we arrived at this massive house. She rushed me in as soon as we arrived, as though she was hoping that no one caught her in action. A beautiful, tall brunette greeted us at the entrance. I tried my best to offer her a smile, but I’m pretty sure all she read from my face was confusion. She then ushered me to a room with a bunch of other children. They didn’t look very friendly but then again, I tried to offer them a smile, hoping they’ll let me join them. To be completely honest, these children didn’t look as friendly as the children that I used to play football with while my father was still…well…not a monster yet. Maybe they were deprived of love, as I was.

Every now and then, I would peek out of that room to spy on my mother, who was seated with the lady in what seemed to be the office. About an hour later, she came out. She kissed me on my forehead and gave me a letter. “Don’t open this until you turn 18 okay? I love you. I really do. I really, really, really do”, she said as she pressed her lips on my forehead. I could feel her tears wet my face. “What?” I asked her. “You’ll understand someday. It’s okay if you don’t forgive me. But please, just trust me. All I’m trying to do is protect you.” How does that clarify anything? I held on as tightly as possible to her injured hands. What else was I supposed to do? She was the only one who I knew for sure, actually loved me. Her tear- filled eyes stared right into mine as she knelt down. “Goodbye”. And she was gone.

I stayed up the whole night as my five-year-old mind tried to make sense of what was happening. The lady who seemed friendly earlier that day, turned out to be very strict. Ms. Redding was her name. That morning was the last time I had ever seen a smile escape her emotionless face. Are all adults like this? Do all of them pretend to love you and as soon as they have your trust, betray you?

I spent the next twelve years growing up with a bunch of other sour children. None of them liked football because apparently “that’s a game for losers”. Most if not all of them spent most of their time playing other games that I couldn’t bring myself to like. After trying time after time to join them, I still chose to separate myself from them and play the sport I loved, although it costed me my friendship with them. Every time I stepped on to the field, his words would play in my mind, resonating as loudly as ever. “I must be the luckiest man alive to have a son who is a natural at football, no?” He would say right before he wrapped his muscular arms around me as he messed my hair up.

As you may imagine, it isn’t easy waking up every day to a bunch of people who quite literally wait for every opportunity to punch you in the face. Nor was it easy to absorb the blame for everything that went wrong in the orphanage considering how everyone blamed me for absolutely everything that went wrong. Jack accidentally broke a glass plate while doing the dishes, and guess who received the spanking. Chris pranked Ms. Redding with a toy cockroach, and guess who got called in for detention.

This hell prolonged for twelve years. Twelve awful years.

All these twelve years lead up to now.

Lying on my bed, the night before my eighteenth birthday. I opened this little notebook where I scribbled a bunch of questions that echoed in my mind from the day I arrived here.

1. Why did mama leave me?

2. Does she hate me?

3. Why is Jack’s nostrils bigger than his eyes?

4. Why does Ms. Redding hate me?

5. Why do I get blamed for everything?

6. Why doesn’t anyone love me?

7. Where is mama now?

8. Is papa still a monster?

There were exactly 118 questions as of that night. Just as the clock striked twelve, I tore open the envelope that enclosed my mother’s words for the past twelve years. It felt as though this moment was the moment I had been waiting for forever. Tears streamed down my face as I read her handwritten words.

Dear Maximus,

Happy 18th birthday, little man. At this point, I’m not even sure if I’m still alive. I’m sure you have a lot of questions running through your mind but trust me, I have a lot of questions too. I’m sure you’re wondering why I abandoned you. Truth is, your father was a drug addict. He would behave rashly every day because the drugs took over his mind. He abused me terribly and my greatest fear was that he would hurt you. I didn’t mean to send you away, but I couldn’t afford to raise you on my own even if I wanted to. I knew that Ms. Redding would protect you more than I ever will, which is why I handed you over to her. I love you. I really do. It’s okay if you don’t forgive me, just trust me, okay?

With much love,

Mama

Just as I was done with the letter, I heard someone ring the doorbell. I rushed out quietly, knowing no one would be awake at this hour. When I opened the door, there was no one, except an envelope with the words “Maximus” written on it. I picked it up with gingerly hands, still convincing myself that this was really happening. I flipped it over and saw an address. I couldn’t recall where that place was, but I knew it was a good sign. Without much deliberation, I opened it. To my surprise, it was a birthday card. “Perfect” I said to myself with mixed feelings. The card read

Dear Max,

Happy 18th birthday. I know you probably have erased every memory of me from your mind, but I really wanted to take this opportunity to apologise. I understand if you’ve been harbouring hatred towards me, but if it’s not too much to ask for, I would really like to meet you and catch up with you. If you’re ready, we could even give each other a chance to start again.

Love,

Papa

Papa? “Funny how he still remembers me”, I said to myself. I spent the next few hours of the morning contemplating my next move. Should I meet him? I thought he hates me, so why is he writing to me? Is he lying to me? Every person who said they loved me proved to be liars. Am I ready to be disappointed? WHAT SHOULD I DO?

At four in the morning, I packed my bags. Of course, I only carried the necessities. In other words, all I took with me was my football and the two cards. I broke my piggy bank where I kept my extra change. There wasn’t much though, only 5 bucks. But anything is better than nothing, right?

I sneaked out, as quietly as the wind through the window. I hopped on a bus all the way to the address that was written on the back of the card. About an hour later, I arrived at a small little house in the middle of nowhere. Of course, I was afraid. I had never been anywhere outside the orphanage and my school. I was completely outside my comfort zone. All in the name of love.

I stood there, with gingerly hands. Everything seemed to happen so quickly. I took a quick glance around the house, trying to decide if I should ring the bell. Unexpectedly, I saw that one of the rooms were lit. “This is it”, I said to myself. I rang the doorbell. Minutes later, an old man stepped out. I couldn’t help but noticed how his lips were as small as mine. His hair was as red as mine. His hands were trembling, just like mine. His eyes were teary, just like mine. He noticed the little football that I held in my hands. I caught an honest smile escape his face. An honest smile. Something I hadn’t seen in a while.

Without saying anything, he threw his arms around me. I remember this feeling. I remember the feeling of his muscular hands. I remember his smell. This…this was my father.

He welcomed me in and we spent the next few hours talking about everything, from his addiction, to my mother. He told me that she passed away one day in his hands. That was when he realised how he was losing everything that he ever cared about. He added that she never told him that I was in an orphanage, but he saw me playing football all alone in the field one day. He knew right away that it was me.

“I’m sorry, son. I know you’re scarred and I know it’s all my fault. If it wasn’t for the drugs, you would’ve had a perfect family, a perfect childhood, a perfect life. Please, please forgive me.”

I smiled. “Are you up for a football match?” I said with a slight chuckle.

He laughed. “Of course”.

#stories