07. Birthday

THE WHOLE PLACE is full of energy and vibrance.

It’s my 8^th birthday and Gran and Papa have organized this party for all of us. Everyone is invited. Including Sophia, of course. Her father, Mr. Cruz, is also here. He greets me a grumpy “Happy Birthday, Kid” and casually goes to the table where papa and the rest of our male neighbors eat and drink. I don’t like this whole idea of inviting Mr. Cruz. But of course, he is still Sophia’s father. And besides, it is customary to invite everyone in the island.

“James! James! Come here.”

I look around and see Sophia waving her hands at me. I jog towards her. Several other girls stand beside her. They all smile at me and says “Happy Birthday, James!”

“So, since it’s your birthday, I made this for you,” Sophia says, beaming. I scratch my left cheek and mutters a shy “Thank you.” I open her gift which is wrapped in a dirty white cloth. My fingers shakily fumble as I untie the cloth.

“Wow! Awesome!

I couldn’t help but be amazed at Sophia’s present.

“Do you like it?” she asks in an uncertain voice.

“Like it? I love it!”

The rest of the girls clap their hands and Sophia’s cheeks blush. She looks so pretty as the wind plays with her hair.

“I made that painting two weeks ago,” she explains, “I’m glad you like it.”

“Correction, he loves it,” Mia, one of our friends, interjects. The other girls giggle.

Sophia’s gift is a painting of the meadows. Two kids are tucked between tall grasses, picking some flowers. Of course, I know who the kids are.

Her momma used to teach her paint using acrylics. And I think this is one of her best works.

“Someday you’ll be a famous artist,” I say. Sophia’s cheeks reddened even more.

Just then, Gran rushes in and calls us to dig in with the food.

Sophia and I sit side by side. Some of our children’s neighbors also sit with us. The mothers and the fathers have their separate circles. They laugh and are very noisy. The mothers are telling stories about their husbands while the husbands talk about fish and other more serious matters.

“Are you happy?” Sophia whispers.

I nod. “Best birthday ever.”

She just smiles.

The children swim on the sea after the meal. Sophia and I follow suit. We swim and run about, chasing each other on the water. When tired, we just watch the smaller kids make sand castles.

We are in this position when the boys notice a commotion from the fathers’ circle.

“Hey, what’s happening?” says one of the children.

I run towards the commotion. The rest of the boys run after me. Not long after, Sophia and the girls come along.

“No! You started it! Son of a bitch!”

“Come on, compadre. Be calm!”

I squeeze myself through the crowd. And so does Sophia. “What’s happening?” she whispers.

“You always bring chaos in this place. When are you gonna grow up!”

“Who are you to ask me that, huh?”

Mr. Cruz kicks the nearest table. Everybody gasps.

“Look at you, compadre. You have ruined your life! What happened to you? You’ve changed a lot!”

“You know nothing!”

“Go back, compadre. Fix yourself! Pity your child.”

“Fuck you! I can do whatever I want with my life!”

We see Mr. Cruz rushes to papa and pins him to the floor.

“James, it’s our fathers,” says Sophia. Then she rushes towards them. “Pa, what are you doing?”

“Somebody stop the two!” the women shout among themselves.

“It’s none of your business, Sophia! You stay out of here,” Mr. Cruz booms loudly and he pushes Sophia away. She is thrown face-down on the sand. I clench my fist. I rush towards Mr. Cruz who, by now, is punching Papa’s face.

“All of you, stay out of this!” he keeps on shouting. He’s about to lose his wits.

“I hate you!” I say as I smash a wooden chair at Mr. Cruz’s back.

“Son of a bitch!” says Mr. Cruz, groaning. His nostrils are flaring with fire. He rushes to me and gives me a sharp slap on the face. I taste my own blood. My lower lip is bleeding. Papa is groaning on the background as two men help him get up.

“You always hurt Sophia!” I shout. I could feel my heart race, my muscles tightening. “You are the reason why Mrs. Cruz died! You are so selfish—” another slap hit my face.

“Papa, stop hurting James!” Sophia shouts.

“You don’t have the right to hurt my son!” Papa interjects, standing up from the blow. He grabs Mr. Cruz’ sweatshirt and pins him down this time. Mr. Cruz and Papa come rolling on the ground. The rest of crowd rush in and struggle to separate the two.

“Go home, motherfucker—” says Papa, pointing a finger at him.

Mr. Cruz struggles to get away from the two people who are holding him. Then, without a cue, he picks a kitchen knife that’s lying on the ground. He runs towards Papa and lunges the knife on Papa’s side.

N-No! My knees wobble as I see my father falls to the ground with a kitchen knife on his body. I could see that he is about to lose consciousness.

The rest of the crowd runs after Mr. Cruz and he receives kicks and punches. He is pinned on the ground. On the other hand, several men help get papa on a boat.

“Let’s get him to the nearest hospital!” we hear them shout.

Sophia kneels beside me. She embraces me and whispers things I couldn’t comprehend. I also feel Gran on my side.

“Have faith, child,” Gran replies, stroking the back of my neck.

“It’s my fault, Gran.”

“It’s not your fault,” says Sophia. “I’m sorry, James. My father ruined your best birthday. I’m sorry,” she sobs.

“That was very brave of you, James,” Gran says. “Let’s get inside now. Come along Sophia.”

Sophia and I do not budge. We just sit on the sand, watching the boat go smaller as it disappears to the horizon before us. Sophia holds my hand, her eyes are still filled with tears that glitter under the hot afternoon sun.

“It’s not your fault, James. It’s my father’s fault. And mine too.”

I don’t reply. I just stare at her. I want to say to her that she has nothing to do with everything that happened; that she is a victim too. But my lips are too stunned to say those comforting words to her.

“Sophia, what just happened on my birthday?” I say afterwards.

“I’m sorry, James. I’m sorry…”

“Your father’s going to jail. I’ll make sure of that.”

Silence.

She heaves a sigh and stands up.

“I don’t have a mother. And now I’m about to lose my father.” I hear her say between gritted teeth, “But it’s for the best. Lock him up. I won’t care anymore. I prolly lost him years ago anyway. So I guess, it won’t matter anymore. I think… I think that’s the best thing that we should do right now.”

And with that, Sophia runs away, leaving nothing but a trace of her foot prints on the ground.