01. Fisher Boy

BEFORE THE SUN starts to shine on the horizon, I get up, walk to the comfort room and wash my face with the cold water silently sitting inside a wooden barrel.

As a seven-year-old son of a fisherman, every day is an obligatory busy day. We do not have maids to do all the chores in the house. I only live with my father, who, as what I’ve said, is a fisherman and with my grandma Alicia. Papa always says that I am the man in the house whenever he is not around. And I ought to do that big responsibility despite of my eyes begging for some more sleep every time I wake up in the morning. Somehow, the cold water on the faucet wakes my sleepy head up every time.

I wipe my face with a dirty towel and get out. I fill my lungs with fresh sea breeze as I face the horizon before me. The sun is still asleep, I guess. I could still see some light flickering from the small boats on the sea before me. And the sky is still dark. Large clouds are clustered all over it. But I bet, today’s weather is going to be fair. I start to wonder what time Papa would arrive.

I drag myself to the kitchen and sit on the wooden bench. I put my elbows on the table and scratch my head. I look around and wonder what else should I be doing today. If I get all my house chores done early, I can go to Sophia’s and play.

“Up so early, child?” a throaty voice rings my ear.

I turn around and see my grandma approaching the kitchen door. She is so old that she walks slowly like the turtles Sophia and I caught two days ago. Only that, Sophia had reported to me that the turtles died. I didn’t know whose fault it was. Maybe Sophia didn’t give it some sea weeds to eat. But anyway, Sophia is just a kid and I shouldn’t have let her keep the turtles. So maybe it was indeed my fault!

Grandma sits beside me. I look at her wrinkled face and the numerous white hairs on her temple. I often wonder how it feels to be as old as she.

“I ought to finish my chores earlier today, Gran. Sophia and I discovered a cave just several meters away from the meadows,” I excitedly say. “We’re going to explore it.”

“Oh, no, child,” Grandma replies in her usual croaky voice. Her morning breath lightly brushes my nose, “snakes may have been laying their eggs in there.”

“I promise you, Gran, we’ll be careful. Who knows we might discover some gold buried deep in that cave,” I say jokingly.

She doesn’t reply. Instead, she gets up and slowly reaches for the pot.

Right. It’s time to cook rice.

I hastily get two cups of rice as Gran washes the pot. She then puts the rice in her washed pots and I go to make the fire.

“Why don’t you invite Sophia over breakfast? I heard her father’s gone again,” Gran says.

I turn around and ask, “Did he hurt her? I meant, Sophia?”

“No, he didn’t, I guess. But I’m pretty sure that Sophia’s mother had become a punching bag. Well, what’s new.”

“That father of hers should go to jail,” I say between gritted teeth, “but Sophia’s mother wouldn’t listen anyway.”

“That’s true, James. That’s true,” Gran replies with a sad look on her face.

After that, I don’t speak a word anymore, and neither Gran. We just stand their silently, watching our hands get busy.

I heave a sigh. I hope Sophia’s okay.

**

It is already past six in the morning when Papa gets home.

We eat our breakfast of fried fish and hot rice as we talk about some random stuff. Then after quiet sometimes, I ask, “Pa, can I bring some fish to Sophia’s? Gran says his father had ran away again and didn’t leave them money. Can I?”

Papa is silent for a moment. I watch him as he puts food in his mouth using his hand. “Go. She’s your best friend anyway,” Papa replies, but not after swallowing his food. Despite the nonchalance in his tone, I know he also feels sad for my friend.

“You should be thankful that I am not a drunkard,” Papa remarks as he greedily chews his food. “Your mama would have been proud of me.”

Gran scoffs, “Asus, you were like Sophia’s father before. But when you finally had this fisher boy of yours, you finally became mature!”

I beam at the two of them.

“Lucky bastard,” Papa says jokingly as he shoves food on my mouth, still using his hand.

“No, no, no,” Gran says shaking his head and grimacing, “you’re the lucky one, Regor.”

She winks at me and the three of us laugh.