RUST was consuming the iron legs of the cage, while the wall was too filthy to lean on. The putrid smell was almost unbearable that I could gag in a heartbeat. Amid the bestial condition, it was the only place where I could be with my father.
The silence of the place seemed like the witch has just stopped dancing. The place freed me from scare of blasting bomb and shouting group of people in the street.
I wore that yellow dress and white shoes while he was clad in his usual white shirt together with black pants and rubber slippers. His thick glasses could not mask the dark circles around his eyes, while his wrinkled forehead and frail expression bothered me. It looked like he needed a hug. But with steel bars blocking the way, we could only imagine. They would always remind me that the time was up and I have to leave my dad again on that haven of rats and mosquitoes.
He touched my head and his hand explored my hair. That was the only thing he could do to make me feel how much he missed me.
“So, how’s school?” he asked in his gentle, though broken voice.
School was where I saw the other children being accompanied by their fathers every morning, like guardian angels who would provide protection against the evils of this world. Some of my classmates would cry whenever their fathers would leave, as if they would never see each other again. It was the same feeling I would get whenever I would leave in this place. I was afraid darkness would consume him too.
“It’s great, I especially enjoy listening to fairy tales,” that was the only thing I could tell him.
“That’s great, but when you grow up, you’ll realize that life is not all about fantasies.”
His answer troubled me. It was a reminder that I never imagined him to be in that cage, but the next thing I knew I was on my way there to visit him again. I was starting to question the stories I read in fairy tales.
“Dad, let’s get out of here!” I squeezed his hands and hoped he would agree.
“You know, when I was younger, I never thought of time becoming a thief,” my father told me smiling. “It always escapes my consciousness, I remember you as my baby girl and now you’re almost quickly growing into a young woman.”
“Why don’t you just stop fighting for other people?” I couldn’t hold back my tears.
People would always tell me that dad was in that cage because he fought for the oppressed. They called my dad their hero, but unfortunately, I was losing mine.
Most of the time, I would have nightmares worse than “monsters in the closest” as most other kids would say. I would see my father being taken away by faceless men in dark cloaks. When I woke up, I felt my heart clenched in fear. The only way to relieve myself was to cry and let mom comfort me.
I hoped that one day he would get out of that cage. My friends in the playground would know him. He would heal my wounds whenever I stumble. I would ride on his back, and be lifted five feet above the ground.
As I saw the shadow of mom coming, all I could do was give him an awkward kiss on the cheek as he stuck his face to the bar.
“Little princess, take this,” he whispered, as he handed me a rosary, and I didn’t know what to do with it. ANA MAY R. DELA CRUZ
