The Underrated Son-In-Law : I Am The World Richest Man

Son of shame

The door bell rang and with father’s savoring voice from inside, I knew I just found my family. I snorted and forced out a contagious smile on my face as I waited through bated breath for father to open the door.

 Slowly the door creaked and opened, “Who are you?” father queried as his eyes narrowed and face scowled hugely like thunder, obviously trying to strike the resemblance.

I kept at my smile which I never planned to do. I didn’t even know what I resembled smiling now with those heavy mustache and long unkempt hair, which had grossly grown into mucky dreads.

Perhaps frowning would convince him that I was whom he never thought to see this early morning.

But I had to introduce myself in the best of words, descriptive words of course, otherwise father and I would stand all day peering into each other’s face.

“It is me, Brian your only child, your son who was falsely convicted of a financial crime fifteen years ago. Father it is me! Yes,” I gave an encouraging nod. “Brian Patrick, yes Brian Patrick!”

He pointed ruggedly and queerly at me before dragging his chin in frown which might break down in tears soon. “Brian? Do you mean Brian Patrick!” his emphatic tone contemplated, leaving me with the thought of a beloved son whom he had long buried in his heart.

“Yes, father, it is me. I am out of prison. Yes me.” I affirmed, letting out tone that quavered.

I didn’t take caution not to hug him. With a free innocent mind, I thought the next rightful thing to do was to hug my father, after these stormy past years in prison. If only I had consulted soothsayer perhaps I would have taken caution to keep at my distance.

About hugging father, I got a pa-pa!

That was the ear-splitting noise of a resounding slap from him. “You bastard!” he cursed, his hands trembling for yet another slap, “What are you doing here after the pain and shame you brought upon my house hold?” he groaned and tightened his lips

My palm was still nursing the slap which had refused to part my chin. With my face down, I never knew I would summon the courage to raise my gaze at him again.

“Father!” I called, “Why did you do this? What did I do to deserve this dirty slap? Is this supposed to be your welcome to me, your son who was sentenced to fifteen years imprisonment?” I wailed, feeling the redness that decked my chin now.

“Fifteen years imprisonment over what, uh? Answer me you son of shame! You stole 15 billion dollars and yet we can’t see it in our lives. Ever since I adopted you as my son, it has been from poverty to poverty. I thought you were going to fetch me fortune…”

I yelled. I never intended to yell but I had to, considering the iniquitous welcome father gave me.

Why did everyone believe Morgan Harris’s allegation? Have I ever set my eyes on a two hundred dollars note let alone fifteen billion dollars?

I protested yet further, “But father I am innocent. I never did it. My boss accused me falsely! How can…”

Father interrupted me by spitting in my face, “You cursed son!” he advanced toward me with his fist and I stepped away.

I managed to dodge it but little of the spittle landed on my eyes and I quickly caught my eyes to wipe the oozing spittle of a man I called father.

“How did you find me? I purposely packed out of our former home even though I couldn’t foot the rent of a one bedroom, yet I am happy for coming to hide in this suburb, so that you would never locate me in your life! I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Not anymore!”

I sniffed twice before I broke down in tears like a kid that was denied his cookies. I couldn’t say more words even though I intended to. Sobbing had taken over my tone now.

There was no stopping father as he howled at me, “I shouldn’t have adopted you. I should have abandoned you on the street of Rio Hondo where I saw you wandering in hunger and dirt…”

I interposed, “But father I am innocent. I have never stolen and I will never steal. What am I to do with fifteen billion dollars at this age? I am disappointed in you for believing Morgan Harris’s ludicrous allegation…”

“You idiot! Can you listen to yourself? Morgan Harris can’t cook up lies against you without evidence. I saw it, everyone saw it. It was glaring, you fool. Your photos, thumb print and signature were scribbled on the exhibit presented at the court. A good criminal is a good liar, so I am not surprised even if a gun is pointed to your head, you will still deny it point blank.”

Father had snapped and broken down in tears too. When I thought I was good at weeping, lo and behold father’s weeping was about plunging me to scuttle to his side and nurse him.

But if I did, who would nurse me, uh? I was also in tears. We just had to nurse ourselves before picking up again.

“Since you went to prison, my life has known nothing but shame, ridicule stigmatization and pain. I stopped worshipping at Master Chow’s Temple. Worshippers avoided me like plaque. No one wanted to associate with the father of a criminal. Citizens nag that you squandered their savings at the bank. I almost committed suicide because of your capricious crime.”

I glanced around; I interrupted him once I noticed somebody was missing in this house. Yes. Where is mother? I barely took note of her absence all the while I had been around.

Quickly I asked, “Where is mother? Where is my mother?”

“You are still asking of your mother?” father retorted, squeezed his face more hugely before breaking down in a more terrifying tears “Your mother…your mother…oh,” he stuttered and choked on his words.

“Speak father! What happened to mother?” I queried about to break down in yet another tears…