Chapter 1: Fisherman
"Our bills keep on piling up and you don't do anything about it!" Mom yelled from the master's bedroom beside my bedroom. There they go again. I'm gonna go find Grandma.
I went downstairs and looked for Grandma in the living room. None. In the kitchen, none as well. I went outside our porch and there she was, sitting on her rocking chair while staring at the sea from afar. I sat at the bench beside her and began to stare at the sea as well.
"Are they arguing again about the bills?” asked Grandma. And that made me look at her and saw her looking at me as well. I nod as an answer. Quietness filled our atmosphere again as she went back to staring at the sea. “Grandma? Should I find a job?” I asked Grandma while I’m still looking at her.
Grandma just continued staring at the sea. Did she hear me? “Grandma?” I called her. “Are you a college graduate?” Grandma asked back. “No.” I answered. “Same answer.” Grandma's answer to my question. So her answer is the same as Mom’s. I sighed. If only I hadn't stopped going to school for 2 years. “Hey, Grandma. I’m just gonna go buy some stuff, okay?” I said to Grandma as I gently touched her forearm while looking at her. She looked back at me, smiled and nodded.
I got up from the bench, walked towards our garage and bicycled away from our house. I have to buy something from the convenience store before I go back.
Each and every person that I see from afar, I avoided. For the fear that somebody might know where I will go or ask about my parents. I don’t want anyone knowing where I spent most of my time when I want to be alone. New information in this town spread like wildfire.
“Have you heard? The fishermen ar—”
“It’s been tough being a fishe—”
“Is it true? There’s been an oi—”
“Man, how long can the—”
For each turn I take, the topic of the people talking is always the fishermen. And now, the hot issue is the oil spill near where the fishermen fish.
Soon, I reached the cliff and as soon as I got off my bike, I ran towards the edge of the cliff — not the edge-edge but near the edge — and inhaled and exhaled deeply. The smell of the ocean breeze makes me feel like one with the sea. Thinking so deeply like the depths. Hope’s crashing like the waves. Feelings being pulled back and then rising as it destroys like a tsunami. Then I sat on the grass, laid down, and let out a deep sigh.
“You don’t deserve what’s happening in your life.”
How long will it take them to clean the oil spill? “If your god is true, the oil spill won’t last.”
Is God really real? “If he is real, you won’t suffer like this.”
If He is, then why does He let these things happen to these people who worship Him? “Things like these won’t happen if you stopped worshiping him.”
Who believes in Him? “Why do you even believe in him?”
Why does He let His people suffer when they follow the traditions quite strictly? “Your god makes rules and yet does not reward you.”
Why does the oil spill have to happen now when the fishermen of our town need to make a living? “Because your god is powerless.”
Wondering why I am complaining about it? It’s ‘cause my father is a fisherman.
