My father, upon hearing that his first love had passed away, was overcome with grief. He immediately donated his entire million-dollar fortune and became a monk. He left my mother to fend for herself and her two children on the streets, where we nearly starved to death. But my mother, through sheer will, started by picking through trash cans and then selling barbecue from a street cart. She not only fed my brother and me but eventually opened a restaurant and bought a house. On the very day we moved into our new home, my father, who had been gone for ten years, returned. He had cancer and wanted us to pay for his treatment. 1 I was at work when my aunt suddenly called. "Minnie, I have some great news! Your father is back! Aren't you happy?" Hearing her cheerful voice, I froze. That man… ten years ago, for the sake of his first love, he abandoned his wife and children to join a monastery. Why was he suddenly back now? My throat tightened. "Where is he?" "He's almost at your house! You must have missed him so much after all these years." Her voice was bright and chipper. "Don't worry, he's back for good this time. Your family can finally be whole again. You should hurry home, Minnie!" I hung up, a knot of panic forming in my stomach. Did my mother know? She was the kindest, most soft-hearted person I knew. It had taken her years to recover after my father left. Our lives were finally on track, and I couldn't bear to see her hurt again. I immediately called her. On the other end of the line, I could hear her haggling at the market, her voice full of life and laughter. "Minnie, honey, Mom's busy stocking up right now. What's up?" Hearing her voice, I felt a wave of relief. It seemed she didn't know he was back yet. There was still time. I had to get that man out of there before she came home. "Mom," I said, trying to sound casual, "I'm craving crawfish for dinner. After you're done with your shopping, could you pick some up? The big ones." "Oh, crawfish? They're not easy to find this time of year. But don't worry, I'll see what I can find after I'm done here." "Great. No rush. Take your time." I hung up, took a half-day off from work, and rushed home in a cab. 2 Standing in front of our townhouse were a man and a woman. I had no idea how they'd gotten into the gated community. The middle-aged man was dressed in simple, worn clothes and a wool cap. He stared at the house, his expression impatient. "Didn't you call her? Why isn't she back yet? This is ridiculous." He had aged. His once-handsome face was now sallow and sagging, but he still carried himself with the same self-important air, as if the world owed him its attention. Looking at his pathetic figure, I felt a twinge of bitter irony. Years ago, he'd prided himself on being a literature major from a prestigious university and constantly looked down on my mother, calling her an uncultured housewife. He shamelessly carried a photo of his first love with him, writing poems and painting portraits of her. When he heard that woman had died, he spent the entire night on the balcony, chain-smoking. I was young then, but I remember him clutching her photo, sobbing, "Rose, my love, I'm coming to join you!" The next day, he sold our house, donated his entire million-dollar fortune, and had his head shaved. While the media praised their "heaven-shaking, earth-moving love," my mother and I were thrown out onto the street. No one cared if we lived or died. I truly didn't know how he had the gall to come back. "Minnie! You're back!" My aunt saw me and waved excitedly. "Come over here! What's wrong with this child? Are you just stunned with happiness to see your father?" My father followed her gaze and looked at me. His face darkened. "What took you so long? Do you know how long we've been waiting?" I ignored him and asked coldly, "What are you doing here?" My lack of enthusiasm clearly annoyed him. "What do you mean, 'what are we doing here'? Who are 'we'? Have you forgotten how to address your elders? You have no manners at all. What has that idiot Sarah been teaching you?" Hearing him insult my mother sent a surge of fury through me. Did he still think he was the emperor of this household? Who was going to put up with that crap? "Who's the idiot calling someone an idiot?" "I'm calling your mother an id— wait, you little brat, how dare you talk back to your own father!" He finally realized what I'd said. Shocked and enraged, he raised his hand to strike me, but my aunt quickly intervened. "No, no! Don't fight! You've just been reunited after so long!" She held him back, giving him a pointed look, then turned to me with a strained smile. "Minnie, don't be like that. I know you've missed your father all these years and you're feeling hurt. But he's missed you, too. He's back now to make things right…" "Make things right?" I said sharply. "When he donated all our money and left us homeless, did he ever think about what would happen to Mom, to me, to my brother? And now he wants to 'make things right'? Who needs it!" My father stared at me, aghast. "What do you mean, I 'left you homeless'? I earned every penny of that money. Don't I have the right to do what I want with my own property?" He grew more indignant. "Besides, I was grieving. As my daughter, why couldn't you have a little empathy for me? Is money more important to you than feelings?" I had thought, hoped, that he might feel a shred of guilt for what he did. But he was so utterly self-righteous. I almost laughed out loud. I was done wasting my breath on him. "I'm not going to argue with you. Please leave. You're not welcome here." Sensing the situation was escalating, my aunt quickly tried to mediate. "Minnie, your father didn't mean it like that. Why don't we go inside and talk? We can all calm down. Arguing out here will just make us a laughingstock." "There is no way I'm letting you inside today. If you have any shame, leave now. Don't make me call security." "How dare you speak to me like that! I'm your father!" He tried to hit me again, but my aunt held him back, shooting him meaningful glances. He finally calmed down and lowered his hand, a cold sneer on his face. "Fine. Fine. I see you've become a heartless, ungrateful wolf in my absence. I won't waste my time with you. We'll see if your mother dares to keep me out when she gets home." I clenched my fists. His confidence wasn't entirely baseless. Years ago, it was my mother who had pursued him, chasing after him for years before he finally, reluctantly, agreed to be with her. Throughout their marriage, she had been submissive, catering to his every whim. She forgave his affairs and never once raised her voice to him. If she saw him now, she might just soften and forgive him all over again. I couldn't let that happen. "I said you're not welcome here! Get out! Security! Security! There are intruders! Help!" I shrieked, grabbing a nearby broom and swinging it wildly, like I was shooing away stray dogs. If they wouldn't leave, I would drive them away. My father's face was scratched and bruised. He retreated, yelling, "Minnie, are you insane? How dare you treat your own father like this! You'll be struck by lightning for this!" "I'm not your Minnie! My last name is Thorne, same as my mother's!" I dipped the broom into a pile of dog crap on the curb and jabbed it at their faces. "Get out! Get out! Get out!" In the midst of the chaos, I heard my mother's voice. "Minnie?" I froze. There she was, at the end of the street, holding a bag of groceries, staring at us in shock. How did she get back so early? 3 I tried to block my father from her view, but it was too late. Her eyes had already fallen on him. He stood there, stunned for a moment. The woman before him was wearing an elegant silk dress, her makeup subtle, her posture graceful. She was a world away from the frumpy housewife he remembered. He looked awkward, wiping the filth from his face and forcing a stiff smile. "Sarah, I'm back. And this time, I'm not leaving." I looked at my mother anxiously, terrified she would be hurt all over again by this man. But she just smiled faintly. "Oh, it's you, Arthur." Her smile confused me. I rushed to her side. "Mom, let's call security and have them thrown out!" But she gently chided me. "Minnie! What are you saying? That's so rude. He is, after all, your father." Hearing my mother defend him, my father visibly relaxed. He had been worried she would resent him, that he would have to work to win her over. But it seemed his fears were unfounded. This woman was probably just thrilled to have him back. A smug expression crept onto his face, and he reverted to his old, domineering self. He pointed at me, his tone disapproving. "Look at the daughter you raised. She's a real handful." My mother glanced at me and shook her head with a smile. "That's just Minnie's way. Don't mind her." Not wanting to be seen arguing in public, my father forced a laugh. "Why would I mind her?" He started to reach for my mother's hand. "Sarah, these past few years…" But she sidestepped him smoothly and smiled at me. "Minnie, open the door. Let your father in." "Mom! Why should we let him in?" "Open the door. Are you going to disobey me now?" I bit my lip and, reluctantly, took out my keys and opened the door. My father watched my mother's retreating back. He was slightly annoyed by her avoidance, but then he figured it was normal for her to be a little standoffish after all this time. He decided not to make a big deal out of it. His earlier anger vanished, and without waiting for an invitation, he strode into the house.
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