Chapter 1
On the day of my father’s death, I did not cry.
The sun was shining, and the birds sung their symphonies in complete harmony and joy of the world being rid of one more scum. In short, no one was sad.
No one except my father’s mistress, Diana, who truly wept until her mascara ran down her cheeks. Her thin, fragile body seemed to shiver like a lone reed in a river as clutched her handkerchief to her eyes that where completely hidden under her ridiculously large sun hat.
She mourned and whined as father’s casket was lowered into the ground. And why wouldn’t she? That was her hot meal ticket going six feet under.
The priest that was prattling on and on finally stopped to call me up, “We will now have a speech from his first-born son, Yue Yazhu Nicholas ” He gave me the knowing smile of an elder filled with pity.
As I reached the podium, looking down at the crowd of people who had been forced to attend by common courtesy. To see them doing their utmost best to seem sad but it was like squeezing water from rocks.
I opened my mouth ready to say ‘whatta great guy’ father was, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t lie with my eyes open, so my brain churned quickly, the gears turned, and I spoke.
“Father was man that was strict with others” but not on himself.
“He ensured that we, his children would know the value of independence”, which he himself did not know, “and to never be greedy for wealth”, because if we were, what would be left for him?
“Therefore, today should not be a sad day, but one to celebrate his life”, but most importantly his death.
Cheers erupted when I got down to take my sit, and father’s parents went up to give an emotional epic about their son, whom they were most proud of, while the rest of the crowd slept with their eyes open.
…
That night I did not sleep. Instead, I was sitting in father’s study with the grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and… the lawyer who sat, briefcase in hand, being eyed by the pack of hungry relatives’ wolfish eyes.
Grandmother was in the middle of her sorrowful monologue, “This child that I have seen growing from a young sapling to the poor withering willow he now is”, then she sniffled a bit, staring down at the ground as if father would burst forth from down under if she just stared long enough, “now us elders can only do our best to care for this poor, poor child_, I volunteer to be his sole guardian.”
Then an aunt with a generous belly, and a generous amount of children began pleading, “No, mother you are too old to be taking care of rambunctious children, let me do it. I have many kids at home so I know how to handle it he will be a perfect addition to the family_”
Then a thin bony uncle, with the stench of alcohol escaping from him said, “Women should not make important decisions, the youngling should come with me, I’ll teach him to be a real man!”
Then the room erupted into subtly aggressive discussion about were the stack of money, sorry, children were going to go. Luckily they were quickly silenced by the Lawyer’s calm and collected voice.
“Actually, these children already have a guardian. According to the will and contract signed by Lev Nicholas Yonkitorof, his mansion will be repossessed by its previous owner, the money will be placed under his children’s trust fund, and the children will live with the trustee. This is in order.”
The relatives saw that the chicken that had easily fallen into their mouths had now revived and flown away.
Disheartened, most of them left, the aunt with a generous belly squeezed my shoulder and reassured, “My doors are always open if you need it”, then left like the others.
Now it was just me, my baby sister and the lawyer left in the room. “The flights have already been booked, as well as the other transportation.” He said, then glancing at the baby that was asleep peacefully in my arms, he slid over a hundred dollar bill, “Here’s a bit of money to buy what you need on the trip.”
I thanked him, then declined his kindness but he insisted saying, “Babies can be fussy especially on long trips, take it.”
Quickly realizing that the lawyer had a point, I stopped denying his well intentions.
Later that day, as the sun cast its warm blushing tints across the cold star lit sky, I saw the car downstairs.
It was a suave black sedan, that was quiet wherever it went. The driver stood outside the car in a black suit that matched the car well. It was not a car nor driver I had seen before.
Holding the baby close to my chest, I looked around at the mahogany study, that I had not been allowed in before father’s death. The painting on the wall of a lady watching a field of flowers. The flowers danced along in the wind, the colours jumping out of the paper, while she remained still, an observer.
Wind blew onto my face, and quickly snapped me out of the daze. I hurried down the stairs, language in tow, and into the car.
Then the trees and grass ran backwards as the house became smaller and smaller. An insignificant dot in the boundless night…
