Bitter Cup

"Sometimes, information is a bitter cup to drink." My father said as he sipped from his cup of juice.

Source

"Yes, father. But it is better to drink of the cup than to remain ignorant." I said, picking my words carefully.

Papa had watch me grow to become so wise. I learnt it from him. He would always use tricky words to express something to me and because I was too young to understand, I would brush off his words. But, as I grew older, I started to learn his tactics and I knew how to get to his heart.

"Repeat your question." He had replied, shoving away the thoughts that formed in his heart.

"Where is my mother, Sir? And, why is it just both of us? Don't I have siblings?" I asked again. This time around, my eyes were focused on his face.

I watched as he tried to hide his expressions. I had known my father too well and I was only surprised at his way of hiding his emotions, that evening.

"The day your mother gave birth to you. We all celebrated it. You were looking so innocent and the way you cried sounded like melody in our ears. Oh, how we had longer for you!" He said, while he blinked continuously in a bid to hold back the tears.

"So, men do cry?" I had thought.

"Your two siblings, Jeremy and Jessica were so happy to have a younger one. They would both drag for who to carry you. Jeremy and Jessica. Oh, those twins were beautiful and loving."

I wanted him to explain to me how the twins behaved but doing that would only stop me from getting my information. I sat back quietly as he continued.

"That fateful morning, I hurried out to get bread for breakfast. Your mother was in the kitchen, washing dishes.

I was just returning from the store when I saw people running around the house. Some were running to get buckets while some were already returning with buckets filled with water.

I was still trying to figure out what was happening when I saw my wife's burnt body on the ground. It was then I understood that the gas had exploded.

I was still running to my wife's body when I heard someone say; "ah! The twins no survive am. Na only the baby we manage comot for the fire." "

I looked at my father and this time around, his eyes were bloodshot red. I didn't know what to do because, the story had weakened me. I tried consoling my father but the more I tried, the more he cried. I had never seen a man cry that way.

"Maybe he was right. Sometimes, information is a better cup to drink." I had told myself.

But on the second thought, I had wondered.

"But, if I hadn't requested for this information, I would not have known this about my family."

I looked at my father again but, words had failed me.