Post by krista on Nov 30, 2010 11:00:51 GMT -7
“Father….Whatever happened to Mom…?”
The slotted spoon Qiao had been using to quickly toss the food inside the wok clattered to the ground, sending droplets of oil spattering across the stove and the surrounding floor. He didn’t flinch, apron protecting him from the worst of the hot liquid, but immediately reached forward and turned off the burner.
The food wasn’t yet finished cooking.
“And where did that come from?” He asked, turning around to face his daughter seated at the table, suddenly looking much less alive than he had thirty seconds ago.
Mei-Hua swallowed, shrinking back, somewhat frightened at the look in her father’s eyes. It would have been almost comical, to an outsider, provided they weren’t aware of the gravity of the first question.
An adolescent troll, at least as tall at the human who has previously been cooking at the stove, instinctively shrinking into a corner that she basically filled anyway. Her curved horns scraped the wall, cutting shallow ruts into the white plaster.
“I said, what makes you ask that question?” Qiao yelled again, the thin voice cutting the air like a knife.
Mei-Hua blinked and cleared her throat. She had to remind herself that she was nearly 15, not to mention she was taller and weighed more than twice what her father did. “Can’t I be curious about the second half of me?”
Qiao took off his apron, and took a seat next to his daughter. Elbows propped against the table, he sighed with his head resting in his hands, though some of his breath refused to leave his lungs. “Your mother was a saint. She sacrificed herself so that you could live in a place where you wouldn’t be a second class citizen.”
“Father I….” Mei-Hua sighed, knowing she was pushing into dangerous and emotional territory for both of them. She looked down at the table herself, drawing her lips back over her teeth in a silent snarl as she looked at her hands. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“My child….” Qiao turned to embrace his daughter, his small arms not even reaching all the way around her, the top of his head not reaching her chin. “I know you did not. Don’t forget her, but remember her as you did when you were young. Before it happened.”
“But Father, why just remember?” She gently pushed her father away, so she could speak to him properly. “Why not….”
Before she could react, Qiao had risen to his feet, grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the table, and smacked Mei-Hua, firmly, right between the eyes.
“Do not disobey your father.” He snarled, throwing the plastic eating utensils to the floor. “I am done speaking about this, do not ask again.”
Mei-Hua stood as her father turned and headed toward the kitchen door, down the old staircase to the store below.
“Wait Father, don’t! Where are you going?” When he didn’t answer, she moved to the doorway herself, and called into the dark staircase below. “Should I finish dinner?”
A hollow empty voice echoed sadly from the dingy shop below.
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
The slotted spoon Qiao had been using to quickly toss the food inside the wok clattered to the ground, sending droplets of oil spattering across the stove and the surrounding floor. He didn’t flinch, apron protecting him from the worst of the hot liquid, but immediately reached forward and turned off the burner.
The food wasn’t yet finished cooking.
“And where did that come from?” He asked, turning around to face his daughter seated at the table, suddenly looking much less alive than he had thirty seconds ago.
Mei-Hua swallowed, shrinking back, somewhat frightened at the look in her father’s eyes. It would have been almost comical, to an outsider, provided they weren’t aware of the gravity of the first question.
An adolescent troll, at least as tall at the human who has previously been cooking at the stove, instinctively shrinking into a corner that she basically filled anyway. Her curved horns scraped the wall, cutting shallow ruts into the white plaster.
“I said, what makes you ask that question?” Qiao yelled again, the thin voice cutting the air like a knife.
Mei-Hua blinked and cleared her throat. She had to remind herself that she was nearly 15, not to mention she was taller and weighed more than twice what her father did. “Can’t I be curious about the second half of me?”
Qiao took off his apron, and took a seat next to his daughter. Elbows propped against the table, he sighed with his head resting in his hands, though some of his breath refused to leave his lungs. “Your mother was a saint. She sacrificed herself so that you could live in a place where you wouldn’t be a second class citizen.”
“Father I….” Mei-Hua sighed, knowing she was pushing into dangerous and emotional territory for both of them. She looked down at the table herself, drawing her lips back over her teeth in a silent snarl as she looked at her hands. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“My child….” Qiao turned to embrace his daughter, his small arms not even reaching all the way around her, the top of his head not reaching her chin. “I know you did not. Don’t forget her, but remember her as you did when you were young. Before it happened.”
“But Father, why just remember?” She gently pushed her father away, so she could speak to him properly. “Why not….”
Before she could react, Qiao had risen to his feet, grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the table, and smacked Mei-Hua, firmly, right between the eyes.
“Do not disobey your father.” He snarled, throwing the plastic eating utensils to the floor. “I am done speaking about this, do not ask again.”
Mei-Hua stood as her father turned and headed toward the kitchen door, down the old staircase to the store below.
“Wait Father, don’t! Where are you going?” When he didn’t answer, she moved to the doorway herself, and called into the dark staircase below. “Should I finish dinner?”
A hollow empty voice echoed sadly from the dingy shop below.
“I’ve lost my appetite.”