For years my senses were so finely tuned to the sound of the door opening from down the corridor that even when I was alone in my university room…I used to flinch when I heard the sound of the door downstairs opening.
You see..for a bunch of years the TV was locked in my dad’s bedroom. In the morning he would lock his room and leave. It was for a good reason. He did not want the TV to tempt me to watch and waste time. So this was the means to enforce it.
And I of course constantly came up with solutions and devious means to get in a watch TV. It’s funny how when you take something away from someone, then they want that thing a hundred times more. So I promptly stole the spare key, and all was good for a while. I had an hour between him going to office in the morning and when my bus came. So I used to wait till he’s gone…unlock the door with this warm feeling of glee and guilty pleasure…and proceed to strut about the room like a conqueror. I used to flop about on the bed like I was supposed to be there, careful not to do too much noticeable wrinkling of the sheets.
And then one day…while I was eating a sandwich in his bed, watching reruns of ‘Fantasy Island’ on TV, I heard ..what could only be the sound of metal on a lock. For a second my mind raced through all the rational possibilities..Could it be a bird? A bird stuck on the balcony pecking the metal with a beak making a sound like a key in a lock..no. Maybe our neighbors lock was being opened and I was just assuming things…then I realized our doors were so thick , the Spanish World cup celebrations would not have been heard through those vault-like slabs. And slowly and reluctantly, my mind came to the chilling conclusion that my father was indeed back home. Now our house had a corridor from the bedroom to the front door and there was no way to sneak out of the bedroom. My mind raced again through possible escape routes. Jumping from the balcony was considered and ruled out. Hiding under the bed was impractical. The marble floors were dusty, cold and frankly It would be worse if I was caught in that manner. All options considered and rejected, I remember calmly chewing on what I fully believed was my last sandwich ever and watching TV. The sound of my dad’s heavy boot echoed through the corridor merging with my increasing heart rate. At last he entered the room, and without a break in his stride walked right past me into the walk in closet picked some unknown object up and strode out. On the way out he paused for the briefest of moments and looked at me with a business-like expression on his face and said “ We will deal with this tonight.” And without so much as a backward glance, swept right out. With a stoic expression I continued watching TV..while the butterflies in my stomach went wild thinking of what was to come tonight…
To be continued...:)
It’s probably why I’ve never bought a TV in my life and hope to never will.
