You Would Never Know

XXXI | Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

Abel

Where is it? Where in the actual fuckity fuck is-

"Oh, for fuck's sake, not again!" I crouched down in pain as I held my foot.

For the millionth time, I've stepped on those annoying, absolutely atrocious miniature figurines those brats left behind.

Dali seemed to hear my pain from a mile away as she urgently came into the room to check on me, sitting there on the ground. I wanted to warn her before coming close to this landmine, but it was too late, as she too stepped on those damned toys.

"Fuck!" The way her lips pursed as she kept jumping on one foot while the other was hurting made me laugh and forget about my own pain.

She sat on the ground beside me to ease the pain and started massaging the bottom of her foot.

When the pain subsided, I and Dali fell into silence. I didn't know what she was thinking about, but I didn't ask, as I was too busy wondering why she took up this babysitting request.

"Abel?" She softly called, and I hummed in response. "When we made that bet, we both thought of the same thing." She was silent for a bit before speaking again: "And that thing is something I fear, and I might not be able to give it to you."

It took me a bit to recall, but when I did, I connected the dots and couldn't help but frown.

"Don't tell me this is what's been occupying your mind these days." I looked at her, concerned that I might've unintentionally pressured her.

Her voice was choked up, in fear of the unknown. "It's not fear of commitment or hate towards kids." She sighed, unable to find the right words. "It's just that, what if I disappoint my kid one day just like my parents did to me?"

Every word she let out was heavy, and I couldn't help but reach out to hold her hand.

A sudden outburst of frustration soared through her as she said, "Everything about parenting is complicated!"

Before I could attempt to ease her stress, she spoke again: "All the stuff I've been watching, the books I've been reading, and even the reviews under them haven't been helping."

I paused, not hearing anything she said after she mentioned that she read books about parenting. "You've been reading books about parenting?" I asked to confirm if I heard right.

"Yes, I have, and from all the reviews I've seen, the majority are saying they're useless." She huffed.

"They say do this, and the result turns out to be something else from what you intended; they say do that—and as well, the result turns out to be something else."

There was a deep intake of breath. "On top of that, who am I going to for parental advice when my parenting fails? My mom? My dad, who's not even here? Either way, it'll end with me traumatizing these kids."

Now it wasn't just an outburst of frustration; it was every emotion that could stem from parental neglect.

"They say just be careful with them; they're just kids. But usually a parent is careful about the things kids don't notice the majority of the time, but the thing that hurts them most is that thing you thought was insignificant and would fly over their heads." She pointed at herself and me as examples of what she said.

"And it doesn't end at that; isn't it selfish to bring a kid into the world? How will I bring a kid into a world I don't like?" She chuckled, but it wasn't humorous.

Without a doubt, her anxiety is adding fuel to the fire, but she's on a roll, and there's no way she could stop this outburst any time soon.

"Will I tell them bedside stories I don't see to be true about the outside world?" The question was directed at herself. "It's like describing how beautiful colors are when you're fucking color blind." Her words turned into whispers.