“A Trace of Care”

by Joshua Tseng

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have another Oreo?”

What followed had to be my tenth sigh of the day. Couldn’t be healthy either, it’s only 7
AM.

“No.”

“Why?”

There went the eleventh.

Explaining to children the dangers of diabetes, or any similarly permanent affliction, is

never a task for the faint of heart. Children, much to the dismay of parents all over the
world I’m sure, simply do not understand the concept of the long term.

It’s always something like, “I want a cookie. Now.”

Or, “When will we get there?”

It’s never something like, “How much savings do we have?”

Or, “Daddy, will I fall deathly ill if I eat too much?”

I exhaled. Twelfth. I proceeded to wash the dishes from breakfast as Tracey whined, for
yet another morning in a row, about how it was perfectly fine for her to have more than
six Oreos for breakfast.

I swear I’m only forty-five, but my grey hairs really show otherwise.

I wonder why.
 02 January 2009

Hi again, happy new year to fat old me.

Future self, if you’re reading this, I think you will absolutely remember why I’m in such a
shit mood today. If you can’t, you are not the man and father I know myself to be.

Fine, I’ll spit it out anyway.

Carey was diagnosed with her mother’s illness today. I don’t know what to do.

Knowing how it affected Mia, I’m not sure what to do for Carey right now. Mia’s always
been better with this encouragement through tough times shit. I wish she were here.

If it weren’t for Carey, I would’ve said, “Fuck this shit,” long ago.

It’s times like these that I wonder why I don’t believe in a god.

I sat beside Carey as she lay in her hospital bed. Nothing new, it’s been this way for the
past few months.

Ever since January, it’s been work, hospital, get kicked out of the hospital for staying too
long, then home. Rinse and repeat, all I had been thinking about was when, when,
when?

It took Mia a year and a half, and Carey was what kept me going after it finally
happened. This time, with Carey like this, I couldn’t be sure I would’ve had the strength
to carry on for that long again.

Her face was so pale. Funny, it was Mia’s delicate, snow white porcelain appearance
that first drew me to her. While Carey’s current shivering, sweat-caked face and her
mother’s soft, round, gentle features in her prime would’ve matched almost perfectly in
colour and all the little contours, there was no beauty in the way Carey looked right now.

Both were known for their adorable china doll features. Both were known for their
sunshine smiles. Both were known for their round, attentive eyes that always showed
care only they were able to convey, empaths through and through.
All of that was absent from Mia through the last few days. All of that was becoming
increasingly absent in Carey through the past few weeks.

I sighed. That was the twenty-fifth for the day. As I continued gazing at Carey’s sleeping
form, I absently noted it was 9:50 PM.

It was time to go soon.

01 April 2010

Dear Diary,

Today was, in one word, horrific.

Not in the traditional sense of having no money in the bank, or getting stuck in traffic for
over 2 hours. More like blindsided by something I should’ve expected all along.
Something I should’ve expected the day I set up the bookstore.

I was pranked.

I had gone to the café next door to get a coffee. Couldn’t have been gone from the store
for more than 20 minutes. When I returned, there was a cup, taped to the area on the
store’s counter next to the cash register with a note that said “Warning: Do Not
Remove”.

Of course I had to remove it, it was taped to my damned counter. What I didn’t expect
after dislodging the tape and lifting the cup was for a god damn cockroach to fly right
into my face.

To add insult to injury, that cup wasn’t the only one. An hour later, a customer fled the
store screaming after finding one of those cups taped to a shelf that had a rat in it.

After those 2 incidents, I got Bob to help search the entire store, and we found not 3, not
4, but 10 taped cups in total, all with little vermin trapped underneath.
 By the end of the day, the perpetrator hadn’t deigned to show up and claim
responsibility. The bastard had snuck in before I could’ve had the new cameras installed
too.

Future self, never forget this day.

Because right now, I am fucking furious.

“Hi.”

A high-pitched voice was very abruptly in front of me. A voice so impossibly smug and
confident, yet so very young. In one single word, this voice had conveyed an air of
mischief I knew I had to be cautious of. Having had to raise a daughter like Carey would
teach you these things.

I looked up from my computer to gaze into midnight black hair framing dark, round eyes.
A little girl no older than twelve was standing there, only the cash register separating her
from me. Her hand was resting on the display copy of a book I had placed at the
counter, fingers idly brushing over the cover page as if it were some sort of pet cat.

After all, all truly evil villains had feline companions, and this girl’s devious smirk, no
matter how young she seemed, conveyed all the menace of a tiny monster troll ready to
bring chaos to whomever caught her fancy. And somehow, I knew, that person was
going to be me.

“How may I help you?”

All the girl gave me was a Cheshire cat grin and the following words.

“How d’ya like the cups?”

And before I could’ve processed the girl’s words, she had booked it, dashing out of my
store into the evening crowd beyond.

I sighed. Surprisingly, first one of the day.

To my old self, I hadn’t forgotten.

I was indeed fucking furious.

And that was the first time I met the little monster named Tracey.

10 April 2010

Dear Diary,

It’s been 5 days since I’ve first met that prankster girl. She came into the bookstore
again today, in what had to be a somewhat calculated move.

I suppose she guessed that pranking me on Wednesday, showing herself on Sunday,

then practicing radio silence till today would ensure I’d have enough time to cool off.
Thing is, she’s not totally wrong.

I’m still furious, yes. But more than anything, I wanted to know two things. Why, and
How?

Why me?

How did she do it?

Alright, so she came into the store, just sat on my counter, and started talking.

Like, “Hi, old man, my name is Tracey!”

Just like that. What the hell, I know.

So I asked her. I asked her why prank me, a lowly humble bookstore owner. I asked her
how she did it.

She told me she had been collecting the little creatures from her home. I wonder what
kind of dump she lives in to find so many lizards, cockroaches and rats in a short period
of time. She most certainly isn’t raising them as pets to keep them around for pranks… I
hope not.

And why prank me?

She just said I looked like a silly old man who needed a good pranking, then she ran off
to who knows where once she saw my brow undoubtedly crease in anger.

Tracey. Son of a bitch, I swear on my grave.

I might just kill that girl.

“Hey, old man?”

I sighed. Ninth of the day.

“Yes, Tracey?”

“Do you have any children?”

I froze.

For some reason, that was not a question I had expected the girl to ask. Despite how
much grief the fact should cause, the truth was I couldn’t exactly call Tracey a stranger
anymore.

Sure, it had only been roughly a month since we had our first, ahem, encounter. But
across those four weeks, she had continued to drop by the bookstore almost every day
after lunch, seemingly just to say hi.

She’d usually just walk around the store and ask about some of the books that caught
her fancy, and occasionally she’d leaf through one of the display books placed on the
counter. We had developed a sort of daily routine I’d be close to calling comfortable if I
weren’t so frightened of the prospect of her pranking me again.

So, I shouldn’t have been so stunned at the idea of her asking me if I was a father. It
was a perfectly normal conversation starter, and I certainly did look old enough. Too old
if you ask me.

“Umm, grandpa, hello?”

I blinked.
“Asked you a question, y’know?”

“It’s supposed to be ‘I asked you a question’, not ‘Asked you a question’, girl.”

“Whatever. So you do got any children?”

I didn’t bother correcting her grammar again, and I just sighed, tenth.

“Yes, I have a daughter,” I replied.

“Where’s she? Never see her around.”

“She’s in the hospital.”

“What for?”

That stung. Apart from Bob, my closest friend, this wasn’t something I was very
comfortable talking about. But for some reason, seeing those hard, dark, round eyes
gaze at me intently, waiting for a response made me swallow my discomfort.

“She’s got cancer, Tracey.”

I had wanted to say it gently, but I think it might’ve come out more like I was spitting
something bitter out of my mouth. When I looked up to see Tracey again, her face was
scrunched up with a sense of unmasked horror.

Tracey knew she had hit a sensitive topic right on the head; the girl, stunned into a rare
moment of silence, clearly looked like she had no clue what to do.

“Sorry, uncle.”

I let out a heavy breath. Eleventh. I had to remind myself Tracey was only twelve, and
my discomfort was not her fault in the slightest.

I was just a coward who couldn’t admit to his problems. And that certainly had nothing
to do with the prankster standing in my store.

“Umm, uncle?”

“It’s not your fault,” I tried saying reassuringly. I think I might’ve just sounded like a toy
with a crushed voice box instead.
Without saying another word, Tracey turned and left, lips pulled down in a frown I could
not read.

After I heard the chime signifying the absence of a customer, I breathed in deeply and
muttered absently, “I’m sorry.”

26 May 2010

Dear Diary,

It’s been a couple of days since the, well, incident. I apologized to Tracey when she
returned 3 days later, but she just smiled and told me not to worry.

And then she asked me where my wife was. That was a conversation with too many
sighs, but I decided to actually try explaining things to her this time.

For a kid who is clearly willing and able to get up to major mischief, Tracey’s a
shockingly good listener. When I told her about Mia, she only sat still and listened, and
didn’t really interrupt. It hurt to have to talk about Mia to another person, a kid no less,
but after having moped enough I must say I was rather impressed with Tracey’s
maturity.

Today, I also asked Tracey where her own parents were, after having waffled on about
Mia to her. Turns out, she’s from the orphanage down the road. The Hildan Children’s
Home, that’s where she’s been staying her whole life.

I still don’t know what to think of that.

Maybe, maybe I should bring her to meet Carey. Carey could use a friend her age,
she’s been getting rather lonely recently.

Maybe, maybe that’d be a terrible idea too.

“And then, and then your Daddy went like aaahhhh when the cockroach flew into his
face, it was so so so funny! Here, lemme show you.”
Carey giggled unabashedly at Tracey’s telling of her first prank on me. Apparently,
Tracey had audio evidence of the whole shebang too, she had borrowed a smartphone
from one of her older friends at the orphanage to get it all on tape.

I could only bury my face in my hands as my very own daughter so openly betrayed me
in front of the little menace that was rapidly becoming her friend, wondering what wrong
I must’ve done in a past life to warrant such rotten luck.

Sometimes, I wonder if reincarnation is really a thing, because I feel like I must’ve been
so scummy in my previous life decomposing algae would’ve felt disgusted by me.
Karma, as they say, is a real bitch.

But as I saw the two girls laugh so freely in sync after having only spent an hour
together, and seeing Carey smile so genuinely for the first time in so long, my own
thoughts decided to betray me too.

Maybe, maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

I couldn’t continue lying to myself, and I cracked a lopsided smile behind the palms still
shielding my face.

December 25 2011

Dear Diary,

When people talk about White Christmases, I didn’t think they’d be talking about my
daughter’s face.

Carey.

Carey couldn’t make it through her chemo. I’m home now, but 8 hours ago, I was at the
hospital, and Carey just.
 I don’t know.

She just stopped.

I don’t know what to do.

I’ve lost Mia. I’ve lost Carey.

I knew this could’ve, would’ve happened. I’m not that stupid.

But the whole family I’ve always dreamed of having is gone, and I have nothing left.

I don’t know what to do anymore.

Dressed in a midnight coloured dress borrowed from one of the older girls at the
orphanage, Tracey stood, stock still, next to me.

Everyone was dressed in such dark, drab colours. I could only think of Carey and Mia’s
pale, bright faces.

I schooled my features into a watery frown as one by one, the twenty or so people in my
life walked up to place flowers next to Carey’s framed photo. I stole a glance at Tracey,
and I swear I never would’ve dreamed of the day I’d see that scheming prankster
looking so somber.

Inhaling deeply and ignoring the fluids chortling around my respiratory system, I thought
of what Carey had asked me not more than two weeks ago.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Can Sis stay with us, once this is all over?”

Despite Tracey’s playful, sunny attitude, Carey knew, I knew, we knew that Tracey,
more than anything, had always wanted to know what family was like.
Over the year and a half Tracey had been visiting Carey with me, the two had taken to
calling each other Sis. When Carey gave Tracey that title for the first time, delight
wouldn’t begin to describe what I saw on Tracey’s face.

For all my claims about Tracey’s supposed maturity, she was indeed just a girl who
wanted, no, needed, some people in a place she could call home.

As I mulled over Carey’s request, and as the procession continued to drone on in the
church, my eyes shifted to rest my gaze on Carey’s final resting face.

I had given my speech, Tracey had given hers. Bob had said some words, and the
pastor was now saying his prayers. Words to a god I wouldn’t believe in, but whose
followers had offered to pay for the procession out of their pocket.

I should’ve been thankful to them. I should’ve shown more respect, but I couldn’t stop
myself.

I brushed Tracey’s shoulder with my hand. As she looked up to me with her shining,
dark eyes, I released my first sigh of the day and finally took the plunge.

“Hey.”

I exhaled. Second.

Today was going to be a long day. But I couldn’t leave it alone.

Carey would’ve wanted it, Mia would’ve wanted it. Heck, I might’ve wanted it too.

I just needed to find a way, some way, to move on.

We only remain human when we show a trace of care for another one of us. And both
Tracey and I could maybe, just maybe, find a way, some way, to work through life
together.

“Yes, uncle?”

“I need to ask you something later…”