The phone rang.
I pushed myself across the bed to reach it. Glanced at the phone- DAD was flashing on the screen.
I was instantly filled with dread. My parents usually call me at night, so what is he doing, calling me in the morning? Especially since he’d just called me the night before?
Morning calls from dad are unwelcomed; they usually bring me bad news.
I listened patiently as he made small talks, all the while waiting with bated breath. Did anyone I know passed away? Did mum mention anything about anyone being sick recently?
“So about this whole transportation thing, is it possible for you to book a cab to return home from the hospital every day?”
So that is what it’s all about! I had to cover the mouthpiece because I was in a laughing fit.
“It’s possible, but it’s also a hassle. I don’t think there’s any need for that.”
“No no, I think it’d be safer that way rather than you taking the auto. Just how expensive could it be? I’ll wire the money to you every month.”
“Dad, I could feed myself till I’m fat with that money. The auto’s good enough; I’ve been using it for the past 5 years.”
“Humph with you it’s always about food. I’m talking about your safety. At least think about it and let me know.”
Everyone, meet my dad.
Ok, so this is the story.
A couple of days back, the auto I was in had a minor accident. Note the word minor. A car hit it at the side just as it was coming out from the junction.
I didn’t see it coming, noticing the bang a second too late and hit my head and knee on the iron rods dividing the driver and passenger. The book I was holding was thrown out on the road.
Funnily, my first reaction was to gasp, “My book!”, went out of the auto, picked it off the road and climbed back into the auto to check its condition.
Exams were only a couple of days away, I can’t afford for my book to be ruined. Nerd.
I then remembered Belon, who was sitting next to me. When I turned towards her, her eyes were glistening with tears. That threw me in a frenzy of panic.
“Why are you crying? Are you hurt??”
“It hurts.” she rubbed her knee with her hand. Alahai, manja overload.
And then I did what I do best; I threw my head back and laughed.
I had a gash at the side of my forehead and a nasty bruise on my right knee. Which I tested at once by going running for an hour. Yup, all’s fine. I then spend an hour and a half at the gym the next day, twisting my legs in all kind of positions; they’re in perfect condition.
Having that confirmed, only then did I tell my mum. When she insisted I go for a check-up (as predicted), I gave the above testimony. At least my mum, used to my reckless and clumsy ways, doesn’t need much soothing and convincing.
My dad, on the other hand, is a different story.
He enquires whether I’ve enough money on me each month, he asks whether my stock of food is ample, and if not, what would I want posted from Malaysia? He sends random messages once every few days, just to show he’s thinking of me. He worries whenever I travel, insisting I call them everyday (nevermind that I was in the middle of nowhere with bad reception).
This is a picture from last year; he’d shaved off the moustache thank God.
That’s my dad for you. He’s the most warm, fuzzy, lovable being I’ve ever known. If he could keep me safe in a bubble ball, I think he would.
I often tell my friends how I aspire to find a husband who has my dad’s qualities- they often tell me it’s impossible, that such a person is extinct nowadays.
You guys just wait.