A Childhood Memory

Go to content

The day I'd rather forget

That day was an unforgettable day for me. I could hear screams, cries and banging of the door. They were fighting over something which I can still remember clearly. A day I'd rather forget is the day when my parents got into a massive fight.

It was raining heavily and I could see from the window that the traffic was heavy. Sitting by the window, countless of raindrops were splattering against the windows and the roof. Papa was talking on his cell phone, yelling at his colleague. His loud voice bellowed with rage across the living room. It was over some problem about not sending enough lorries to the construction site. Papa was in a bad mood and he'd barely talked since he got home from work.

Mama finally came home. I could hear her car engine roaring into the car porch. She was sulking, probably from being told off by her boss again. I'd hoped that she would come home with a happy smile on her face - but it was not to be.  

Mama saw papa in a bad mood and this made her even more stressed out. Mama is a person who likes seeing smiles when she gets back from a hard day of work. The atmosphere was very tense and there was an awkward silence, as nobody was in the mood to talk. I wanted to tell papa that I'd got the highest mark - 85 in my Math paper and so I did.

"You can do better than that! You should have scored at least 90," he said in his booming voice.

I felt like he had just poured a bucket of cold water over me. Rage was building up inside me and I felt like yelling at papa but I managed to control myself.

Instead, I stomped into the kitchen. Mama started preparing dinner and she looked moody so I dared not say a word about how papa had reacted when I told him I'd got the highest mark.

I was staring at how mama was preparing those mouth-watering dishes when papa marched into the kitchen and asked where she had kept his green documents in a rude tone. Mama turned off the stove and went into the study room. She rummaged through boxes of documents which belong to papa. She couldn't find what she was looking for, and so she rummaged through the documents once again.

"I can't find them," mama finally spoke.

"You're a failure! You can't seem to keep track of my things!" Papa yelled.

That was when the fight started. There was a harsh row and mama yelled at papa to stop saying nasty things to her.

"How can you say that! I am your wife! The house is a mess and you can't blame me if you can't look after your own things!" Mama yelled back.

"I need the green documents for tomorrow!" Papa argued.

Both of them burst out, they argued, complained about how each of them was stressed at work. They finally let rip.

I was eavesdropping outside the room but their voices were muffled through the wall. I pressed my ear against the door and listened.

"I'm so stressed at work and now I'm getting more stressed at home! Stop blaming me!"

Mama started sobbing and ran out from the study room and into the bedroom.

She cried loudly and pushed all her cosmetics away from the dressing table. Papa continued yelling at her mercilessly outside the bedroom and she argued for her rights.

Finally, mama got up from the stool and walked straight out of the main door. She banged the door shut and drove away. Before she left, I could see that her pretty face was ruined with tears and her cheeks were red. Papa drank heavily that night and blamed himself for everything.

Mama finally came home at midnight and I wasn't asleep yet. Mama came into my room and pulled the covers up to prevent me from catching a cold, and when she got up to leave, I grabbed her hands tight. I hugged her and sobbed. We hugged each other and in the arms of mama, I knew I was safe.

In mama's arms, I was wrapped up in her warmth and I hoped that this will never happen again, because it almost tore my family apart.

Jasmine Lee SiRong

Copyright 2019 English Language Centre - Edu. Reg. YZ1L001
Wholly owned by The E-Factor Sdn Bhd (354083-M)
Tel & Fax: 082-250950 - Kuching, Sarawak, Malaysia
email: elckch@gmail.com
Back to content