Like No Fairy Tale



    They say that coming to America would be the best decision you’d make. You’ll be successful, they’d say. You’ll be happy, they’d say. You look at the faces in the magazine—all the laughter and smiles. You wish you could be there . . . be the person in the magazine. But is that what America’s all about? Happiness and success? Or is it what we want to see? The saddest truth about life is that no one is born into this world as it should be. From the books we read to the news we watch, we become infatuated with the idea of having the perfect life, but truth be told, reality isn’t like a fairy tale . . . we don’t always have a happy ending.

    I look up at the clock hanging on the wall and notice that father would be coming home soon. I quietly hum a song while setting the table in preparation for dinner.

    All of a sudden, in the corner of my eye, little Athena was seen running across the living room, giggling with excitement. Her eyes lit up, almost mischievously, while the grin settling on her complexion widened across her cheeks. I couldn’t help but smile—laugh even. However hard I tried to resist, she would always manage to make me smile. It was as if she made everything, even if it were for a second, feel like it would get better . . . life would get better.

    I observe the room my family and I were staying in. Considering my family and I had only moved to America for 6 months, this was the best we got . . . and we were grateful for it. There was a sense of abandonment to the building, old and forgotten. While the door hung on its corroded hinges, the paint on the walls peeled and flaked liked a drying scar of a wound. A pedestrian gazing at the condition of the building would question as to why any person would choose to live here. Sure it wasn’t much, but, to me, it was enough.

    As I finished setting the table, there was a knock from the door. I look up at the clock and noticed that I had finished in time for father to come home. Little Athena realized who it was and sprints over to open the door. But, with her height, her hand had only reached the bottom of the doorknob. Luckily, Lucas was there to help and open the door. There he was, his stocky frame hidden beneath his brown hat and coat. His face was rigid and rough with wrinkles forming on his forehead. He had the kind of look that would intimidate and have you shrinking in fear. Perhaps it was his gray eyes that were as gray and cold as a tombstone in the middle of a graveyard. But, I knew him better than that. Beneath his scary appearance was a soft heart.

    Papa! You’re home! Little Athena says as she rushes towards father to give him a hug.

    He crouches down to Athena’s height and opens his arms to hold her. As she begins to tell him about her day, mother calls us over to have dinner. We quickly get seated and begin to say our prayers. Once the prayer was said, we began to eat and converse about our day. I glance over to father and notice him silently looking at the wall as if he was in a hypnotic trance. Father has never done that before; there was definitely something wrong.

    How was your day, Papa? I ask.

   My day was good sweetheart. How was your day? He says while smiling.

    My day was good too. What did you do Today? I say.

    Oh, same old day—I went to work. He replies and continues eating.

    This was odd of him doing. He’s usually never as quiet as Today. Before I could continue the conversation, a series of loud knocks were heard from the door. By the silence of the room, it didn’t seem like my family nor I were expecting a visitor. Nevertheless, father stood up from his seat and walked to open the door to see who would be knocking this late at night. As he opened the door, two men in blue were seen with flashlights in their hand. They looked almost like police officers; the ones, I would see on TV. I take a glimpse at father and notice all the color draining from his face, almost as if he had spotted a ghost. This was the first time I’ve seen him act this way.

    We’re looking for a Charles Richard. One man says.

    I’m Charles Richard. Anything wrong officers? Father replies, almost sounding as if there was a hint of terror in his voice.

    You need to come with us right away. You’ve been held as a suspect of selling drugs. The other man says.

    Drugs? Papa would never do that, I say silently. Mother, Lucas, and I looked at father incredulously while he looked away. Did that mean it was true? No, it couldn’t have been. I wouldn’t believe it.

    Papa, what do these people mean? It can’t be true, can it? Please tell me they’re lying! I yell out.

    Before he could speak any further, he was handcuffed and taken outside. I try to run outside, but was blocked by one of the officers. I yell for him to come back, but it was no use. Suddenly, I felt a deep pain in my heart, almost like my skin had been pierced with many sharp objects. Father looked back with a sad smile—a smile that wouldn’t reach his eyes. With each second passing, he went farther and farther, but before he left, he mouths to me one last thing.

Everything will be okay. I’m sorry.

    And he was gone. I felt sick to my stomach. As I watch him go farther and farther, I tightly close my eyes, holding back any tears that wanted to fall. The last thing I wanted was for Athena to worry. Once calming down, I feel a tug at the bottom of my shirt. I look down to see little Athena looking up at me with her head tilted to the side.

    Where is papa going? she asked.

    I crouch down, reaching Athena’s height, and place her hands within mine.

   He . . . won’t be home Today . . . he still has some work to do, I hesitantly tell her.

    She looked at me, wide-eyed while her lower lip trembled—she was on the brink of crying.

    But he promised me he would read me a story tonight. She mumbled. The look on little Athena broke my heart. It was an expression I never wished to see.

    How about this? I’ll read you a bedtime story tonight, and papa will read you two bedtime stories tomorrow. How does that sound? I say, while giving a small smile.

    Her frown, now replaced with a smile, pressed her rosy cheeks up and slowly revealed her pearly white teeth. She quickly nodded her head and wrapped her arms around my neck. But, the truth was, I wasn’t sure if father would come home tomorrow...or if he would ever come home. As I hug little Athena, I close my eyes wishing I could’ve said one last thing: You’re my hero and always will be my hero.