Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4567 | Page 267

After a while she went to bed. At 11:00 pm I heard dad come through the door, I was still sitting at the table
drawing the pirates who had whisked Cora away from the walled city.
I saw him standing by the door way with a blank stare, he hadn’t even taken off his shoes and put down his
briefcase. He was exhausted, he was gazing at the painting I had done for an art competition last year and he
smiled. I had never heard my dad praise my work, he had never even mentioned it and sometimes I wondered
whether he even knew that I liked art.
“Oliver?” he called to me, “Why are you still up?”
“I-uh-“ I cleared my throat, “do you want a glass of water?”
He just shook his head and turned back to my painting, “You know, when I was your age I never would have
been able to paint something like this.”
I stared at him with confusion, “Can you paint something like that now?”
He took his glasses off and placed them on the table next to me and took a seat, “Don’t you remember when
you used to sit on my lap while I painted when you were a toddler?”
My mind drew a blank. “You do art?”
“I gave up art.” He said, his voice sounded airy like he was lost in thought. “When I switched jobs, I hated it
honestly the first few months I was up to my eyeballs in paper work and the only thing that made me stick to it
was you and Cora.” He paused, “Cora called me and told me what happened. I don’t want either of you
thinking that you disappoint me. Ever. I want you guys to be happy.”
In my head I was painting something else, I was painting Pan Yunduan and Pan En in their garden together. I
thought it was dumb how someone could love their father that much but maybe Pan En had sacrificed just as
much as my father had.
I went back to bed that night deep in thought, I had never asked what my dad was before he switched jobs and I
had never realised how much he had sacrificed to be able to pay for us to live where we were and to be able to
pay for all my art lessons and Cora’s education. I knew that my dad was preparing me for the day when I had to
face it all on my own. I looked at my computer, the tab of Pan Yunduan still opened. I got up and started
another canvas and started a new painting of my father and I.