It was a time for a good cry. In the end, I transferred six hundred to Long, hoping he could do something about it. Oddly, I sensed that father’s whole point was just to beg me to live a normal life.
Perhaps it was that oddness that reminded me of a true story. A while back, father was really really maddened by the lowest of the low. He had been selling drinks and cigarettes in the guardroom for months, which was a new addition to his job. There came an ordinary young worker from a nearby factory, who picked a bottle of Pepsi Cola. He handed father a one-hundred note. He gave him the change. In a second, the young worker meant to make a complaint, put the drink back in the fridge and asked for his one-hundred note back. Automatically, upright father returned him the one-hundred note. But he forgot to get the change back! This happened twice the same day. When he realized something was wrong, it was too late. The two trash had gone. Shame and guilt had blackened him into a smoky fury. Since the incident of theft, he wasn’t allowed to make another mistake. Yet this one sounded way too stupid. It was way too humiliating.