he knows exactly what he has done and will be able to
tackle it mentally. Look at him, he has given us no reason to guess
anything’s amiss,’ I was convinced; not miring him in
this, was the right thing.
I meant, this mess of
words. Of course he was at the centre of this mess; just that it was
better to let him believe that we did not know about his involvement
with Mary. Leave him to his devices, letting him work through the
embarrassment of his own adolescence, without help from snoopy over-
protective parents. Protection was late in coming— in this
case, useless, an after-thought, given the reality of his premature
loss of virginity, to my maid.
You may have guessed by
now, given the candid account in these pages, I am not good with
secrets. They haunt me, especially the ones that don’t close
out logically in the mind; they resurface every now and then,
uncomfortably, begging nosey discovery. Once the answers present
themselves, I can let things pass, but until that point secrets
bother me.
At Dr Paul Ng’s
clinic, the awkwardness of the subject was limited to the waiting
area. As soon as I saw him, confidence overtook me. I asked Jay and
David to wait outside, while I spoke to Dr Paul.
‘Hello, Doctor,
we have reason to believe that we may have been exposed to sexually
transmitted illnesses. We are not sure, but for precaution I wanted
my entire family to be screened. This is only for my peace of mind,’
I emptied, readying myself for his interrogation, reading his eyes,
which turned kind and paternal.
‘You mean, even
your son? I see here that he is only fourteen.’ he asked,
pointing at the registration forms, which I had filled a while ago.
‘Yes, Doctor, it
may be excessive and I may be just paranoid, but I want to screen the
whole family,’ I evaded the incident, focusing on the health
screening.
‘Do you have any
specific illness or ailment in mind that you suspect? Any symptoms?’
‘No, Doctor, we
just want to preclude commonly known diseases.’
‘Okay, that
should not be a problem,’ he got busy, measuring temperature,
drawing blood, asking for urine, examining us, here, there,
everywhere, one at a time and reassuring me later, ‘Don’t
worry, you don’t seem to show any outward symptoms. We will
call you in a day or two after all the reports have come in. In the
meantime, I will prescribe a course of antibiotics, just
precautionary.’ We left, relieved for now, but anxious about
the test results. At home, Jay headed back to school, wanting to be
with his friends rather than at home with us.
David called his
office, explaining that he would have to be away for the day, before
re-joining work on the following day. It gave us time to talk, try
and make plans for the future.
Plan s , we
have to make them, knowing well that they will push us into unknown,
unforeseeable waters; yet plans are better than simply meandering,
floating about life.
‘We should head
back, I don’t think we should live here anymore, after all that
has happened,’ I told him, wanting to move back to London.
‘Why?’ he
simply asked, a question meant to spawn a mild disagreement, healthy
for a domestic debate.
‘Well, for one, I
feel suffocated in this city, after all that has happened. For
another, I don’t think anyone of us is happy here. Are you
happy, after all that has happened?’ The happenings had all happene d to me; David and Jay stood on the side of
doers, doing what they did in whichever frame of mind they did it in
and for whatever period of time it takes for men to do what they do
to women.
‘You know I will
play along with whatever it is that will make you happy, just that
our income back home is not guaranteed. It will be back to square
one, looking for work, reconnecting with friends, asking for
favours,’ he was stating facts. It would be like that. It would
be better that way; he needed the process of rebuilding before we
settled down again.
‘Yes, I agree.
You are absolutely
tackle it mentally. Look at him, he has given us no reason to guess
anything’s amiss,’ I was convinced; not miring him in
this, was the right thing.
I meant, this mess of
words. Of course he was at the centre of this mess; just that it was
better to let him believe that we did not know about his involvement
with Mary. Leave him to his devices, letting him work through the
embarrassment of his own adolescence, without help from snoopy over-
protective parents. Protection was late in coming— in this
case, useless, an after-thought, given the reality of his premature
loss of virginity, to my maid.
You may have guessed by
now, given the candid account in these pages, I am not good with
secrets. They haunt me, especially the ones that don’t close
out logically in the mind; they resurface every now and then,
uncomfortably, begging nosey discovery. Once the answers present
themselves, I can let things pass, but until that point secrets
bother me.
At Dr Paul Ng’s
clinic, the awkwardness of the subject was limited to the waiting
area. As soon as I saw him, confidence overtook me. I asked Jay and
David to wait outside, while I spoke to Dr Paul.
‘Hello, Doctor,
we have reason to believe that we may have been exposed to sexually
transmitted illnesses. We are not sure, but for precaution I wanted
my entire family to be screened. This is only for my peace of mind,’
I emptied, readying myself for his interrogation, reading his eyes,
which turned kind and paternal.
‘You mean, even
your son? I see here that he is only fourteen.’ he asked,
pointing at the registration forms, which I had filled a while ago.
‘Yes, Doctor, it
may be excessive and I may be just paranoid, but I want to screen the
whole family,’ I evaded the incident, focusing on the health
screening.
‘Do you have any
specific illness or ailment in mind that you suspect? Any symptoms?’
‘No, Doctor, we
just want to preclude commonly known diseases.’
‘Okay, that
should not be a problem,’ he got busy, measuring temperature,
drawing blood, asking for urine, examining us, here, there,
everywhere, one at a time and reassuring me later, ‘Don’t
worry, you don’t seem to show any outward symptoms. We will
call you in a day or two after all the reports have come in. In the
meantime, I will prescribe a course of antibiotics, just
precautionary.’ We left, relieved for now, but anxious about
the test results. At home, Jay headed back to school, wanting to be
with his friends rather than at home with us.
David called his
office, explaining that he would have to be away for the day, before
re-joining work on the following day. It gave us time to talk, try
and make plans for the future.
Plan s , we
have to make them, knowing well that they will push us into unknown,
unforeseeable waters; yet plans are better than simply meandering,
floating about life.
‘We should head
back, I don’t think we should live here anymore, after all that
has happened,’ I told him, wanting to move back to London.
‘Why?’ he
simply asked, a question meant to spawn a mild disagreement, healthy
for a domestic debate.
‘Well, for one, I
feel suffocated in this city, after all that has happened. For
another, I don’t think anyone of us is happy here. Are you
happy, after all that has happened?’ The happenings had all happene d to me; David and Jay stood on the side of
doers, doing what they did in whichever frame of mind they did it in
and for whatever period of time it takes for men to do what they do
to women.
‘You know I will
play along with whatever it is that will make you happy, just that
our income back home is not guaranteed. It will be back to square
one, looking for work, reconnecting with friends, asking for
favours,’ he was stating facts. It would be like that. It would
be better that way; he needed the process of rebuilding before we
settled down again.
‘Yes, I agree.
You are absolutely
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