The doorbell rang.
I felt as if, my world will change forever. You know the feeling when you know that you WILL get it? After all this fucking years!
"Hi dad"
"Hi."
Oh, he has just come.
Dad removes his shoes. Then socks. Tie.
"Martin.."
Is this the moment?
"Keep this tie at the right place,comeback and put the socks and shoes at the right place"
I did what he said. I'm feeling shy. Even though I waited for this for so many years, the reality would be pretty scary. I was never hugged before for the right reasons. I was only hugged because dad and me share something. When you have that thing which is a part of you in some others body, you hug them. Whether you like it or not.
"Martin..get some water please"
I get some water. He will take the glass. Then, he will ask me to sit on his lap. Then, he will caress my forehead. Then nuzzle. Stupid, you are too old for all this. You are a grown up now.
I sit on the sofa. Pretend that I'm watching T.V. Eyes cannot stay at one place. The eyeballs try hard to look dad from the corner of the eye.
I watch the clock. Its 6 P.M. I feel that it is teasing me. The minute hand tells me, "you dumb boy, what are you looking at? After 30 minutes, I'll meet the hour hand, then I'll move forward, then meet again, then move forward..But my each move is a win over your crappy life"
Its 8 P.M. The clock is having fun.
9 P.M
Mom comes home. Maybe he wants to do this in front of her.
"Hi, Sara. How was the day?"
9.30 P.M
10 30 P.M. Go to bed, Martin.
11.oo P.M The door opens. Yes, usually Parents talk about this stuff when the child is about to sleep. Saw that in movies.
Dad takes a pillow. He is just 6 centimeter away from me.
15 centimeter.
45.
The door is shut.
Next day. 5 45 P.M. The door bell rings. I open the door. Hi Martin. Shoes, socks, Tie. Water. Clock laughing. It says: "You own me or I own you?"
Next day. 5 47 P.M. Hi martin. You scored bad in Math. Shoes, socks, tie, water. Clock is always the same.
I kept my poem inside dad's office bag on 5th April 2009.
17th May. 2012.The door bell rings. knock knock. Who? Reality. reality who?
Even though i now know why the hell that fucking clock laughs at me, everyday for 5.6 seconds at about 5.46 P.M I have hope. That one day, daddy will talk about my poem which i kept in his office bag. Fuck you minute hand.
Did he not notice it? Did he read it? If he did, then did he understand my poem? If he did, then why is he not talking about it? Is he quiet because he didn't understand it? Or because he understood it?
