I always believed that such tales were just something one might stumble upon on the internet. Yet, I too became entangled in a story much like it.
When I was six years old, my father abandoned my mother and me. Just like that, overnight. It was just the three of us leftMother, me, and my two younger twin sisters. For a long time, Mother shielded him, telling me that Father was away on business somewhere. But I already understood the truth. Once she realised there was little point in pretending, she said, Your father isn’t a part of our lives any longer.
As a child, my mind couldnt make sense of all those adult complications. I was angry with Father, and dreamt often of his return. But he never did come back. Mother remained with usshe never sought to rebuild her personal life. It wasn’t easy for her, but I suppose she had no choice. Who would fancy a divorced woman with three little ones in tow? Time marched on. I myself have married, and have children of my own now. We still reside in the countryside. We keep a small farm and tend to our apple orchard. It may be modest, but it’s ours, and our efforts are beginning to pay off, slowly but surely.
Only a few months ago, I received a call from a gentleman I didn’t recognise. He told me we needed to speak urgently and even hinted that he was interested in buying apples in bulk. Of course I agreed. We met at my orchard, where a balding, heavy-set fellow greeted me with a smile and handed me a parcel. I opened it to find cheap sweets and a tin of instant coffee. I was quite taken aback. Then he simply said,
I am your father.
I was at a loss for words. I only managed to mumble, Have you ever been in prison? No. Are you looking to purchase apples? No. Well then, goodbye. Goodbye…
He left the bag on the bench. I caught up with him and handed back the paltry goods. What did he hope for, I wonder? I warned my sisters that Father might turn up on their doorstep. And I was righthe went to see them with the same bag in tow. How does one return after twenty-four years with nothing but a tin of coffee? Tell me, how is that meant to make sense?
