VALENFIELDS, ANGLOVA - MARCH 1986

VINCENT

“Keishiro? Keishiro?”

For the last two hours, I had been scurrying all over the estate as I call out my son’s name repeatedly. The pain on the edge of my heels were getting more and more intolerable, my mouth getting dry, and both my breath and my patience are running out. And yet, still not a single sign of his existence.

“Keishiro Alexander Bellrose!”

Well, this is bound to happen when you live in a two hundred and thirty thousand square feet mansion with a mischievous six-year-old. The servants would say that trying to find the little master in this mansion is like trying to find a needle in a haystack, and they would always take more than half an hour whenever I requested one of them to bring him to me. I always thought they were slow and exaggerating – I mean, our mansion might be big, but how hard could it be to find a little boy in his own house? Now that I’ve tried doing it myself, I finally understood.

Like I’ve mentioned before, I could’ve just asked one of our servants to look for him while I waited in my study, sitting on my leather chair as I enjoyed a cup of luwak coffee.

But for this particular matter, I can’t.

After I walked out of the last room I looked into, I couldn’t take it anymore – my body demanded me to rest. So then, I decided to go to the nearest balcony and lie on one of the recliners. As I took a deep breath and relaxed my muscles, I began to think where Keishiro might be.

Could it be possible that he had escaped from the mansion? I tried to imagine my little boy scaling up those ten-feet-tall fences that surrounded our estate, and slapped myself on the forehead. No, no…don’t be ridiculous, Vincent. Keishiro might be all sorts of genius, but he’s no parkour prodigy. He knows that our military-grade fences have various sensors for security purposes, and he’s not supposed to touch them at any cost. A single flick would’ve triggered the sensors and summoned the guards on duty within seconds, and if Keishiro did anything to those fences, they would’ve brought him into my office already-

Now hold on a second; I haven’t encountered any of his practical jokes or any of its remains today – not even a single booby trap or broken antiques anywhere.

As I thought about it, a location suddenly popped in my mind. I rose up from my seat and walked back to the east wing as fast as my tired legs could carry, and stopped in front of one particular room that I haven’t checked today – Keishiro’s bedroom.

The door was left ajar, so I decided to shift it as quietly as possible, just until it’s enough for me to look inside the room…

And there I saw him; sitting on his city street-themed play mat as he played with two Japanese action figures in his hands - one robot that I know as “Gundam” on his left hand, and on his other hand a monster shaped like a dinosaur with tortoise shell – I forgot what that one was called. Nichola’s mother spoiled him with so many toys and movies from her homeland that I couldn’t keep track with their names anymore.

He didn’t seem to notice me at all, as he was busy directing an epic battle between the robot and the monster across a set of buildings made out of multicolored Lego blocks that had been partly destroyed, and a few disarrayed die-cast cars between the buildings and the scattered blocks. Behind the door, I heave a sigh of relief - well, at least he’s not making another booby trap or setting up another one…

I tapped his bedroom door twice as I called out his name, and he abruptly dropped his action figures to the floor and turned to me.

“Yes, daddy?”

His stiff, formal gesture, although polite, came to me as a bit odd. But I guess my sudden presence was quite startling. After all, the incident might still left him a bit shaken.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he nodded.

I stepped into the room and closed the door, and walked towards his bed. As I made my way carefully through the scattered Lego blocks and die-cast cars on the play mat, I realized that his eyes were following me. More than often, people told me that his gaze sent chills to their spines. I always thought that it’s probably because they’re not used to his unique eye color, but now I understood when they told me that there’s something else.

So then, I sat on his bed and told him to come sit next to me, and he obeyed without hesitance. As I watched him climb onto his bed and shifted towards me, I prepared myself to broke the news to him. But before I managed to speak a word, he already popped a question.

"Are you going to be angry at me again?"

I blanked – what? Did I only talk to him when I want to scold him? Well, I did scold him a few times this week, but...

"Alright, kiddo.” I said, folding my hands together as I trailed on. “If I'm going scold you right now, why? What for?"

"Because I broke the vase?”

I twitched one of my eyebrows, “Which vase is it this time?”

“The one that Grandma Fran gave you on your wedding."

I shook my head as I sighed and told him, "No, Keishiro. That was two weeks ago. You've already said sorry for that, and you’ve already got your punishment.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered his punishment; no Babybel cheese for a week, and he didn’t seem to be bothered at all with that even though he really loved those. Well, I don’t think any of my punishments ever bothered him - I know that I should do something to fix his behavior, but I could never bring myself to do that. When confronted, Keishiro would always look at me in the eye and admit his mistakes, and in the end whatever he destroyed didn’t seem to matter anymore. Those things could be fixed or replaced. And besides, that’s part of the risk of keeping a little boy and fragile antiques in the same compound. My son had already admitted his mistake, and I think his honesty is more valuable than all those pretty, shiny things that do nothing but collect dust.

“Is it because I put a gecko in your shoe when you’re heading to work?”

I snorted. Well, I admit that one was funny…except the part when Mischa, one of our maids, fainted after she pulled the reptile out of my shoe. “No, that was a week ago, and you’ve already apologized to Mischa.”

“Hiding a frog inside Judith’s dresser?”

“That was three days ago.”

“Putting Madame Lansbury’s private recital invitation into the paper destroyer?”

“That was four days ago – and you’re a lifesaver on that one, kid. Everyone knows that Madame Lansbury’s singing is terrible, and your grandmother still insisted that I had to go with her." - yes, thank God that no one was allowed to enter her estate without the invitation card that day.

“Pouring detergent to the driveway fountain?”

“That was two days ago.”

“Ripping your favorite Turner painting in the living room when I played with a boomerang in the house?”

“That was also from last week, and you were lucky that you only broke the replica.”

“Pouring glue all over Vierro’s chair?”

“That was…wait- when was that?”

Keishiro shrugged.

And that was the moment when I realized that I was dragged into his game. I sighed and chuckled, and stroked his head gently as I smiled. “Okay, I guess that’s enough. Listen, kiddo, I’m not going scold you for anything today. I just want to talk.”

“Talk?”

“Yeah, so…”

I cleared my throat a few times, straightened my back and shifted uneasily on the bed. As the clock kept on ticking, not a single word came out of my mouth. Well, I know what I’m going to say, but when I thought I was ready to speak, I felt like something sharp have clogged my throat. And the more I forced myself to speak, the more my lips refuse to part.

I never had trouble speaking – be it in front of thousands of my family’s company workers to break out major salary cuts or to my now father-in-law when I proposed Nichola, I never had the slightest hints of such things as butterflies in my stomach. And yet…here I am, feeling all jittery like a cow in a beef factory when all I have to do here was talk to my six-year-old son.

“Daddy?”

His voice snapped me off my train of thoughts. I turned my head towards him, and saw that he was still sitting next to me, eagerly waiting for whatever I am going to say.

There’s no turning back now.

“Hey, uh…listen, kiddo. What do you think about…living to Japan?”

His eyes brightened up the moment I mentioned the name of the land where all his favorite toys and TV shows came from. “Really?”

“Yeah – you’ll be staying with Uncle Masato’s family for a while. But, uh…mommy and I won’t be coming with you.”

The bright excitement from his face faded, quickly replaced by creases that formed a sad and confused expression that made my chest felt a little stung.

“…Why?”

As I brought my hands to his shoulders, I heave a sigh. Well, this is going to be very hard to explain, and I’m glad that I had confided to both sides of the family before I talked to him.

To lie to my own son about this…it’s very difficult for me. Sure, we lie to our kids all the time; Santa Claus, tooth fairies, monsters under the bed…all those kinds of things that colored their imaginative minds, and one day would be remembered as a piece of memory from their fun childhood. But this time, I wasn’t going to lie to him about some sort of imaginary creature – I am lying about his own mother.

And again, I have to remind myself about what everyone had said to me – he’s too young to know the truth, and I had no other ways to break this to him…

“Listen, Keishiro. Mommy is very ill right now. She has left to Arizona a few days ago, and she’s staying in a hospital."

He looked at me as if I just shattered his whole world. His terrified eyes felt like glass shards piercing deeply into my heart as he gazed at me. Well, I know that this is going to be difficult, but I didn't expect that it was going to be this painful...

“Right now, the best doctors in Arizona are taking care of mommy, and they said that we can’t visit her until she gets better. It’s going to take a while, so we’ll have to be patient…”

I paused for a moment to clear my throat, for almost every word that I have spoken seemed to have grown into prickling thorns inside my neck. “But you can’t stay here, kiddo. I will be very busy with work, and I’m afraid that nobody will take care of you. So, you’ll be staying with Uncle Masato and his family until mommy gets better…”

Now that it's all said and done, it didn’t relieve me at all. In fact, everything felt even much worse as I my son turned his gaze towards the floor.

“Hey, Keishiro? Kiddo?”

I tried to get his attention, but he wouldn’t budge at all.

Is he going to cry?

No – please don’t cry, kiddo. Not now. I’m not sure if I could handle it-

“Daddy,”

Again, his tiny voice snapped me off my worried thoughts. “Yes, Keishiro?”

“If I go to Japan, what about Bree and Elle? What about our promise?”

Brielle and Maurelle – daughters of Jean and Melissa, whom my wife and I had been best friends with since we attended high school together. The three of them were very close to each other, just like real siblings. Brielle, the oldest of them all, was there when Keishiro was just born. And Keishiro was there too with Brielle when we welcomed Maurelle to the world. They’ve become inseparable playmates since then.

I just remembered that we promised them that they would go to the same school – which was supposed to start this fall. I’ve completely overlooked this, as I thought that the decision to put Keishiro in Japan was right for several reasons; we previously had plans to let Keishiro live in Japan for a few years - Nichola’s mother is very keen to introduce him to their culture; since they were descents of a shogunate clan, the family did not want his Anglovan aristocracy status to oversaturate his Japanese descent - which I had no objections of. He’s very fond of all the cartoon shows and toys, and speaks the language better than me already. He also gets along really well with Hitomi and Kazuhiko – Masato’s children. But still, there’s no way that they could replace Brielle and Maurelle.

I never meant to break his promise, and now I feel like I’m the biggest hypocrite in the history of Bellrose Family; always taught my son never to make promises that he couldn’t keep, and yet I failed to do that. But right now, the circumstances are impossible for us to keep him here in Anglova. It’s not that I wanted him to go; I have to make him go.

“Hey, kiddo…I can’t do anything about your school arrangements, but…even if you’re in Japan, it doesn’t mean that you won’t be able to contact Brielle and Maurelle. You can still call them once a week, write them letters, send them gifts…and of course, we can arrange family vacations together during the holidays…“

I know that my offer won’t compensate the broken promise, but it’s the best that I could do for now. Please, kid. Just this once, there is a promise that I couldn’t keep-

“Okay!”

Huh?

“Okay daddy, I will go to Japan and stay with Uncle Masato and his family!”

My prayers were granted, but I am lost at words with his sudden reaction. He did not cry nor beg not to go, but he wasn’t elated either. But then, I was once again reminded that my son is no ordinary boy; sometimes, when I gaze into his eyes, I feel like I was no longer facing a six-year-old boy, but someone much older and wiser – maybe even more than me.

“You actually didn’t want me to go, right?”

For a second, I was taken aback; I didn’t expect him to be able to see that one. But that’s just one of the many things that made my boy special; his eyes, tinted by a rare genetic mutation that he inherited from his mother, are somewhat magical. The seemingly glowing color hue that resembled the ice caps in the Arctic Ocean, charming anyone like a cobra that resonates to its charmer’s flute, able to excavate through the deepest parts of you – even the ones that you didn't want anyone to see.

Before I managed to say anything, he reached out his little arms and embraced me. I was hesitant at first, but I couldn’t help it. Placing my hands on his little back, I held back my tears as I stroked him gently like the way I used to soothe him when he was a baby.

“It’s okay, daddy. If I need to go, I’ll go. I’ll stay with Uncle Masato until mommy gets better,” he whispered.

For a moment, I felt so relieved. He’s obeying me without making a fuss! What was I being so nervous for?

But the good feeling didn’t last. In less than a minute, it turned into something really, really terrible; couldn’t describe it even if I wanted to, but it made me feel like I don’t deserve to be his father.

I have a son that every parent would dream of, and I’m failing him. I’m breaking my promises to him, and now I’m sending him away. It’s not his fault that he had to go; if it had to be someone’s fault, then let it be mine.

Would I feel better if he’s begging and crying to stay, and saying things like ‘I hate you’?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

I don’t know.