The reason why he drank liquor too much was denial. He was the black sheep of the family. His brothers’ achievements were far greater than him. His father didn’t love him.
Voltaire Natividad was named after the famous French philosopher, Francois Marie Arouet de Voltaire. His father, who was a professor of Philosophy in the University of Negros Occidental – Recoletos, named his sons after great philosophers in history: Aristotle, the eldest, Confucius, the middle child, and Voltaire, his youngest.
“You must stand out from your classmates…I know you are intelligent…the spirits of famous philosophers in the world live in you…” the professor would tell his sons.
Being the youngest of the three siblings, Voltaire would look up at his brothers as role models. He was inspired when his Manong Aris won a Math quiz bee when he was just in grade 3. He was amazed whenever his Manong Cocoy would show his report card with all his grades in line of nine. I wish I can achieve as much.
Voltaire was never like his brothers, though. No matter how hard he tried, he never stood out. He did not exceed his father’s expectations. While Aris and Cocoy were raking awards every recognition day, he would just have a single ribbon or two.
SPANK!
“Dad, I’m sorry…please forgive me…” Voltaire was crying one day on the sofa.
“YOU GOT A 79 IN SCIENCE?! YOU DISAPPOINT ME! WHY CAN’T YOU BE JUST LIKE YOUR BROTHERS!”
SPANK!
“I’m sorry…I tried to…but it’s all I got…” Voltaire’s butt was burning in pain.
“YOU DIDN’T GIVE YOUR BEST! FROM NOW ON, NO TELEVISION, NO BICYCLE…YOU WILL STAY IN YOUR ROOM TO STUDY WHEN YOU ARRIVE FROM SCHOOL!”
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
Voltaire grew up despising his father.
He began drinking when he was in second year high school. Beer was good. Whiskey was better. Tequila was the best. He could forget his father’s academic pressures.
“Voltaire?”
He looked back hearing someone calling his name. He was in an open bar drinking with his friends. “Nong?” It was his brother Aris.
“Gago! Since when did you learn to drink?!” Aristotle said angrily.
“Nong, come in…try a shot…”
Aristotle grabbed the glass and displaced it’s contents to Voltaire.
“WHAT?!”
“You come here…” Aristotle caught Voltaire by his shirt and went out of the bar into the highway. “We will go home…wait till Dad knows about this…you’ll be deadmeat…”
They entered a taxi.
Professor Natividad was enraged with what his youngest son had done to himself.
“Where did you find him?” the professor asked his eldest son.
“Outside UNO-R, in an open beerhouse with his barkada,” Aristotle replied.
“Cocoy, get my belt.”
When Confucius came back, Voltaire suffered another spanking session.
SPANK!
“WON’T YOU COME TO YOUR SENSES? YOU’RE A PROFESSOR’S SON AND LOOK WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO YOURSELF!”
SPANK!
YOU ARE READING
ENSHROUDED
Mystery / ThrillerFor the past twenty years, many barbers had worked with ALK. Mostly men, since there were a couple of menopausal women who once applied to cut. Mr. Gonzaga was kind with his employees, giving them their salaries on time and, if the business all thro...
