My father likes nothing better than alcohol. Can you imagine a Chinese man drinks without any dish or food in the morning? My father does.

zhou yifan 

My grandfather died of hypertension. So did my two uncles. Therefore my mother and I wanted father to give up alcohol. Having tried many times, my mother gave up, saying, “He is so crazy. Once you go out of his sight, he will steal a drink, just like a thief!” My mother asked me for help. Having failed many times, I got desperate. One day I started to argue with father on his addiction. Staring at him, with a cold smile on my face, I went, “Go on with your drinking, dad. But one day if you die from it, do not tell anyone down there that I was your son. I am ashamed.”


From then on mother noticed that father started to cut down on drinking. He promised mother that he would never drink in my presence.


The last day of my winter vacation, my parents visited my uncle and aunt. I did not join them because I would return to school the next day. I was alone at home, packing my things. By 8, they still had not come back. Worried, I called my uncle. He said that my parents had left his home two hours before. “Where on earth could they have gone?” I asked myself. Some time later, my uncle called back and said, “Your parents are in hospital. Your father was drunk. He fell and injured himself on the way home.” I got furious.


About 9.30 pm they came back from hospital. In silence I glared at my father, who was plastered all over. I went back to my room and locked the door from inside. I heard on the other side of the door father murmuring to mother, “What should I do? He must be very angry. He will not talk with me anymore.”


After the incident, I did not see father drink once at home.


One Sunday I was home from school. When I was watching TV, I heard mother yelling in the kitchen, “Why are you drinking again here? What a thief! Stop it!”


“Please be quiet, darling. Son is home. I will not drink in his presence,” my father pleaded.


“So that gives you an excuse to drink here in the kitchen?” screamed mother.


“Just a little, just a little. Calm down, darling.”


Hearing their conversation in the kitchen, I could not help smiling in the living room. Oh, poor father!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: