Little did I expect that I will stay here for two months.
During which, my father never contacted me.
I secretly called the school, only to be told not to return.
"Don't come, your father's creditors are blocking the school gates, disrupting other students' lives," I learned.
His debtors had stationed themselves outside my school and grandmother's home, round the clock.
My life plunged into unforeseen despair.
But I dared not tell Nathaniel, fearing eviction.
I started behaving, trying to please him.
Cooking for him, I accidentally blew up the kitchen.
Rescued from the wreckage, my face charred, he stared, unsure it was me.
"What were you doing?!" he roared.
"Canning... soup," I replied weakly.
"Without opening the can first?" he asked, incredulous.
"Should I have?" I replied naively.
He was speechless, dragging me to the bathroom to wash me like a dog, then issued a command.
"You're banned from the kitchen."
"How could I cook then? Trust me, it was a mistake," I pleaded.
"Trust you? I'd trust God sooner," he scoffed, fixing the kitchen alone.
Halfway through, his friends arrived.
"Nathaniel, are you cooking?" one quipped.
"Can't you see?" he retorted.
"Why did you cook yourselft? Where's little Felicity?" another probed.
"She is in the bathroom!" he snapped.
""Taking a shower on day?Nathaniel, what's going on?" they joked.
"Shut up!" he barked, silencing them.
Fresh from the shower, overhearing this, my face flushed red.
"Felicity, why are your face so red?" someone noticed.
"The water is too hot," I explained, the group's knowing smirks deepening my blush.
"Nothing better to do?" Nathaniel scolded, chasing them off.
"Nathaniel, it's our weekly hangout night," they protested.
"Not tonight, I am not in the mood," he dismissed.
"Who upset you?" they wondered.
Nathaniel glanced at me, "Malcolm, Is your father still hiding?"
"We can't find him if the police can't," they shrugged.
"Forget it, leave now! All of you," he ushered them out, slamming the door.
"Is there any news about me dad?" I ventured.
"That's my question," he snapped, tossing the towel into the ground, agitated. "How long do you plan to freeload? Forever?"
"I'll leave for school," I lied, knowing nowhere else to go.
"When?" he asked.
"September."
"That's two more months!" he exclaimed.
"I'll work harder on the housework!" I promised.
"If you keep doing housework, and I'll end up blown to pieces one day," he grumbled, bending down to point at the kitchen before fetching two packs of instant noodles, placing them before me.
"Keep track, and when your father contacts you, repay me everything."
"Okay," I said, fetching my tiny notebook and scribbled: Instant Noodles - 3 dollars. The notebook was crammed with pages upon pages, detailing every expense I owed him over the past two months. He truly was fierce, and I dared not neglect recording every bit I used.
"Got it all tallied? How much do you owe?" he asked, expertly preparing the noodles and tapped my head lightly with the fork.
Rubbing my sore head, I counted, "A total of 1325.5 dollars."
He was strict, I dared not forget to record every penny he spent on me.
"$1000? You've cost me nearly a month's pay," he joked.
"Is that a lot?" I recalled spending ten times as much on a shopping spree without my father's blink.
With unfettered spending in my past life, no wonder I lacked a concept of money.
"It's not about amount, but why should I support you? Who are you?" he glanced at my ledger, blood pressure rising.
I hold back tears, "If you can't afford a bride, wait for me to grow up. I will marry you without a bride price. Would that work?"
He stared at, then chuckled.
"Why do you laugh?" I asked.
"Do you know what you're suggesting? You're 18, I'm 31. If I got married early, I could be your father, Don't you know that?"
Feeling insulted, I replied calmly, "My father's 52 this year."
"Enough, I'm not fond of you anyway. You are too skinny. Holding you in my arm will hurt my spine. Repay your debts, no more nonsense," he said.
"Nathaniel," I touched my head.
"What now?" he griped, noodle bowl in hand.
"My head hurts," I murmured.
"You... women are troublesome," he sighed, gesturing, "Come, let me check."
I leaned forward obediently.
He examined my scalp, "Just scratched, probably from the can, no big deal."
He fetched a band-aid, deftly applying it.
My neck ached in this position. I chose to bury my head on his lap.
"What are you doing!" He lifted me by the hair.
"What's wrong?" I asked, puzzled.
"You are a girl, why did you do this to a man?" he queried.
"What?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
"Do you really not know or you are just pretending?" he hesitated, "Forget it, you're not my daughter. I will not concern for you."
He finished patching me up, pushing me away.
Strangely, warmth filled me. He cared for me.
The last person who cared for me was my father, who abandoned me.
Before that, my mother did it but she passed away.
Halfway through the noodles, I sincerely said, "Nathaniel, I like you, I think you're a good man."
He choked on his noodles, coughing, "You haven't seen my bad side."
"What's your bad side?" I asked curiously.
"You'll scream until you lose your voice. I will break your tiny waist.You will cry and regret meeting me. Are you scared now?" he taunted.
Blushing, I realized his implications, "Don't talk like that."
"You asked for it," he laughed, leaving with his noodles.
I swore not to speak to him again.
