My Crazy Father's Advice

Tobias 1434 October 21, 2046

“Tobias! Tobias opens this door immediately.” The sound of my mother’s banging had finally woken me up. I roll over and ignore her as she keeps banging. “I understand that yesterday didn’t go your way, but you’ve already missed church. You can’t just stay in your room all day.” Didn’t go my way? That’s putting it mildly. She keeps on banging, but I ignore her as the events of yesterday play over and over in my mind.

Tobias 1432 October 20, 2046

I laid on the field, grasping my glove. I’m overwhelmed by the pain in my ankle and shoulder, but I don’t dare move in fear of letting go of the ball I don’t even know is there. I open my eyes and see Sora and the rest of the team running towards me. I knew it. I didn’t make it. They’re making a mad dash for the ball because I didn’t catch it. I begin to sniffle, trying to hold back the tears. All that effort for nothing, All because I couldn’t catch a pop fly. I cover my face with my glove before I feel a hand turn me over. I look and see it’s Sora. His mouth moves, but I can’t tell what he says. He slaps my cheek, and that’s enough to spur me away. “Come on, man, get up,” he says, shaking me.

“Why so you can laugh at me for not catching it?” I ask pessimistically.

“What? No, you caught it look!” he says, reaching for my glove. He opens it up, and there shines the white of the ball like a pear emerging from the brown clam that is my glove.

“I caught it?” I ask in disbelief.

“You caught it,” Sora repeats ecstatically.

“I caught it,” I yell as he helps me up. He lends me a shoulder when I tell him my ankle hurts. I look up and hear the announcer and crowds for the first time. “What a catch!” the loudspeakers blare as the crowd cheers and hoots rabidly. “You saw it here first, folks. Tobias GoKegawa has caught the ball and won the game. It was a risky move putting him out after the shoulder injury but look how it paid off.” More of the team surround Sora and me as they all put me on their shoulders and carry me triumphantly around the diamond. They bring the trophy out, and they have me hold it high above my head. I’m entirely caught up in the excitement of the victory that I’m surprised when Sora calls to the rest of the team.

“Hey, guys, aren’t we forgetting something rather important?”

“Ooooohhhh,” they all call as they begin to carry me to the bench. Sora, you bastard, if this doesn’t go well, I’m gonna hold it against you.

Tobias 1502 October 21, 2046

The replay is interrupted as my mother finally bangs open the door. The light from the hallway burns my retina as I pull the covers over my head. “I don’t care what happened. When I tell you to open your door, you say yes, mam, and open it,” she yells as she stops across my room to my bed. “Now get up,” she commands as she pulls the covers from my bed and throws them across the room. I shiver as the cool air sweeps over my body, causing me to curl up into a ball. “This is ridiculous, one girl rejects your confession, and you lose all hope. In my village, my brother was rejected three times in 2 hours, and you couldn’t detect a hint of sadness in his voice,” she says as she grabs and shakes me. I go limp and don’t react to her words. God, would you just shut up. I don’t care. She continues to yell at me and even drag me from my bed before she gives up and begins to leave. I watch as she stands in the doorway, looking back at me, huffing for a moment. I stand and grab my covers before collapsing back onto my bed. The mattress bounces as I flop into an uncomfortable position, but I don’t care to change it. What’s the point of this? What’s the point of anything? What does it really matter? I lie in bitter self-loathing, but I can still feel my mother’s disapproving eyes pierce the blanket. “If this is how you’re going to act, then I’m glad she turned you down,” she denigrates.

The next thing I know, I’m already launching an item from my headboard at her. My alarm clock? My phone? A cup? I don’t know, but I grab it and send it flying directly at her face. How dare you say that? Is all I can think. It’s not till it’s already left my hands that I think it may not have been the best idea. It doesn’t take but a moment for it to fly across my room, and for just a moment, I regret being a pitcher. It’s just about to hit her when a gloved hand jumps in front of her face and catches the game-winning ball I’d caught. Just as fast as the hand appeared, it recedes, and my father steps into the doorway. Oh crap, this isn’t gonna be good. That is all my panicked mind can come up with as he enters my room, his shoes making distinct “clacks” before he stops and stands between my mother and me. He stands there a moment, taking glances at both my mother and me before he speaks. “Okay, now we’re gonna do it my way.” His voice is calm but commanding. “Grab your shoes and coat; we’re going for a drive,” he says, pointing at me. He turns and walks out. “I told you we shoul-” I hear him begin to say to my mother before he closes my door. I stand frozen for a moment, trying to fully process what just happened. I then begin to shake as I think of what he might do to me. My mind replays images of my father beating a man who’d tried to grope my mother on a train once and another of him standing over one who’d leered at her for a little too long. I leave my room and head outside, figuring it’ll only get worse if I keep him waiting. As I head outside, I see patiently waiting in the car. I open the door and sit and see that he’s selecting music on his phone. He sets it down, and a smooth, calm classical piano begins to play as we slide out of the driveway. We drive through the city streets without a word. It’s not until we get on the expressway out of town that he begins to speak. “I told her not to do that,” he says.

“What?”

“I told her we should just let you vent for a while and that you’d be better, but she didn’t listen. So now you and I get to go on a little trip.”

“A trip to where?” I ask but to no response. He just stares directly at the road and continues to drive.

Tobias 1812 October 21, 2046

We continue to drive for hours without saying a word. The only sound is the radio which continues to play the soft, calming piano, which does little calm me as my father refuses to make any comment on the music. He neither tells me fun facts, whistles to the beat nor even tap his fingers as they play. Eventually, we go from a paved road to a dirt trail surrounded on all sides by trees. We stop at the end, and my father cuts off the engine. “Dad, where are we?” I ask, looking around seeing nothing but the dimly lit trees surround us.

“You’ll see,” he says as he clicks his seatbelt and opens his door. “Follow,” he orders as he closes the door and begins to walk. I hurry to unfasten my belt and follow behind him. He takes me down a lightly traveled path, at a pace far beyond when he kept on the camping trip. I can barely keep up as he seems unaffected by branches or steepness. After a while of walking, we come to a clearing and a cliff. I can hear the waves crashing and smell the salt of the sea. He walks up no more than a meter away from the cliff and just stands there. I stare at him as he leans over the cliff and lets loose a deep ear-splitting scream. Even though I’m facing away from him, I have to cover my ears. I see birds fly away from a tree at least a kilometer away. He screams and keeps screaming for a solid ten seconds before he finally stops. Even though I’m a few steps away, I can hear him huffing and puffing. Two, three, four deep breaths later, and again another should be louder than before but much shorter. He bends over and grabs a stick from a pile nearby. With it, he begins to batter and pummel the rock. A deafening “WRACK” or “WACK” can be heard with each strike. When the stick finally snaps into pieces from his many blows, he simply chucks it over the cliff and grabs another. I stand there and watch him as he continues this in an almost ritualistic fashion. Screaming, beating, and stick to splinters, and then launching the splinters over the cliff. When he finally stops minutes later, he simply stands overlooking the sea, sweat dripping from his brow as if he’d just completed a set of deadlifts. He begins to breathe deeply, timing his smooth, controlled breaths with the flowing of the wind as it whips his hair. He finally turns to me once his breathing is normal.

“Son, it seems I may have failed in teaching you a very vital part of being a man. For most of your life, I’ve tried at all costs to avoid showing you any sort of weakness. It’s a bad habit of mine; for some reason, nothing disgusts me more than the thought of you seeing me as anything other than the physically and morally strongest man alive who has everything figured out. Well, the truth is I don’t, and there are a lot of people stronger than me, as you’ve seen in the gym, and I’ve made so many mistakes in my life that I wrestle with on a daily basis. I’m not going to tell you now because this is neither the time nor the place for it, but I will someday when you’re ready. For now, just know that I've noticed you have a rough time. You may not think it, but I notice things. I don’t know what you’ve been going through, but for you to lash out at your mother that way, it must be tough. Now when we go back home, you will apologize to her, and I’ll make her accept it, and it’ll be in the past. But for right now, you’re gonna stand at the edge. Take a deep breath and scream your lungs out. I know I’ve always been hard on you, but that was always to teach you one important thing. You’re a man, and as a man, you can’t show emotions whenever you want. It’s a sad truth, but somebody has to keep their head at all times, and unfortunately for us, society has chosen men for that role. So when everybody else is losing their minds, we have to be the voice of reason and keep our cool. I’m not saying never to show emotions, but there is a time and place for it like all things. This is that time and place. Whatever’s been eating at you, let it all out. I even keep a pile of sticks here to beat this rock with.” He grabs and holds out a large thick stick. “So whatever it is, yell and beat it out.”

I stand there flabbergasted. Is this my father? Is this the same man who was so excited to see me throw a strike at the baseball tryouts? Is this the same man who dots on my little sister too much? Is this-

“Take the stick, son,” he says in a deep, commanding voice cutting off my train of thought. “I’ve spent your whole life trying to give you the best advice I can, and that hasn’t changed yet. Trust me when I say that this will help.” On instinct, I take the stick. He moves out of the way and gestures to the rock. This is stupid, I think. How is screaming like a mad man and hitting a rock going to make me feel better? How is it going to… Gonna make my feelings disappear. Do I even want them to disappear? My mind races, and the emotions I’ve been pushing down on for the day suddenly and violently explode. “AAAAAAAHHHHHHH” I scream as I put all the force I can into hitting the rock. The stick bounces off the rock and spins off as the vibrations tear up my arms, forcing me to release the stick. I fall to my knees and hold my hands near my chest as the excruciating pain shoots through my hands. Was my father really hitting them that hard? How were his hands not destroyed? I kneel there for a moment, simply rocking back and forth.

“Yeah, I did that at first, too. It takes a while to really build up a tolerance to it.” My father says from beside me.

Why do you do this? How often do you do this?” I ask, my hands still trembling.

“As often as I need. Son, every day I wake up and have a full day’s worth of responsibilities to deal with. Now I remember how difficult my school life was, and I know the average American public school can hardly hold a candle to a third-rate Japanese school, let alone one of the most elite on the planet, but I mean this when I say it. I’d kill to have as much free time as you do now. I know that may seem ridiculous, but if you say take a day off and don’t study, it’s only you who’ll suffer for it. But If I decide not to care for a day at work, somebody could be hurt or worse. Then the consequences of that will affect not just the patient and me, but also the patient’s family, your mother, you, your sister, and everyone else who depends on me for one thing or another. I always have to be at my best for the sake of everyone around me, and that stress can and will eat you alive if you don’t get it under control. I’ve seen men become walking corpses because of it. Sure they’ll walk around and talk, but they’re dead on the inside. You can see it in their eyes. Then one day, their body will simply catch up with their mind and spirit. I’ve seen a lot of ways to cope with it, some better than others. A hard hour at the gym and an occasional scream are enough to do it for me. Some drink or smoke, some pray or talk to a therapist, and more try to distract themselves with music or video games. We all have a way to deal with stress, and I’ve seen just about every way, but one way that doesn't work is just bottling it up. You have to find an outlet for it before it consumes you completely because then it’s too late.” He stands there and looks over the horizon as the sun sets over the mountains behind us. “I’m gonna go back to the car. You take as long as you need to get it out,” he says as he turns and leaves.

I stand there processing what he’s just said for a while before my memories begin to race through my mind. Demont-kun and Grant-kun’s smug faces at everything I do, Hanz kicking my ass, Kano-san flatly rejecting me without a second of doubt or contemplation… Before I know it, the stick’s in my hand, and I’m bashing the rock like there’s gold inside. I try my hardest to choke back the tears, but they begin to form in the corner of my eyes nonetheless. I begin to feel the lump in my throat form, and the pit of my stomach fills. I break one… two… three sticks before my fingers refuse to clamp on. I drop to my knees and look at them. They’re shaking so much that I can’t see anything but the deep red of blood. I look out to the crashing waves, and more anger boils over. I tear up the grass and launch it against the wind. I scream, using my whole diaphragm as the wind blows it back in my face. When the grass grows thin, I shift down. I’m halfway down the ridge before I realize what I’ve been doing. I look back and see the 3 meters of grass I’ve eradicated and finally come to my senses.

I sit there hyperventilating, unsure of what to do next. I look over the crashing waves and peer into the darkening sky. Why? That is the only thought I can muster. Why me? Why did she have to reject me so fervently? Why didn’t I just let Arthur or Louise have her? What do I do now? I kneel there, sniffling with tears in my eyes for a moment before I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up and see my squatting down to my level. On instinct, I reach out for him and bury my face into his chest and let out a deep cry. I find great comfort and security in his embrace as he hugs me back and simply rocks back and forth.

“Do you feel better?” he finally asks after a while.

“Yes, now that you’re here.”

“Glad to hear it,” he says, ending the hug and holding me at shoulder length. “Now, are you ready for step two?”

“There's a step two?” I ask, smiling a bit.
“Yeah, step two is we go get ice cream and talk about anything you want or nothing if that’s what you want. “
“What does the ice cream do?”

“Positive reinforcement,” he says, standing up. “You just did what is arguably the hardest thing for a man to do. Open up and let somebody else in. Now we go and get ice cream.”He reaches out a hand, and I take it. He helps me up, and we head to the car. I’ve never seen this side of my father in all my years, and I think I like it.

“So, how did you find this place anyway?” I ask as we begin to drive off.

“Oh, that’s a wonderful story, you see-” he tells me as we drive off into the sunset.