Awariye

Chapter One

The beginning of my life was incredibly happy. I grew up in Ireland, speaking Gaelic. I remember always having company, playing at the park, going out to dinner, and traveling Europe. Then it was Alex and Jared, which meant sunny skies in San Diego, flying in Jared's biplane, and playing with my puppy Patton. I went to preschool for two years, one year in San Diego and one year in Ireland.

I never questioned having two homes and three guardians until one of the endless string of school interviews that happened my fourth year of living. When Alex was in the preliminary interview, a boy entered the office with his parents and sat down next to me.

He turned to me, "Where are your mom and dad?"

I hesitated, and then asked, "Which one is mom and which one is dad?"

The boy smiled, "Dad is the one that takes care of Mommy."

I still had nothing to go on, "Which one is Mommy?"

The smile turned to a grin, "Mommy's the one with boobies."

Now that struck gold. Even at four, I understood that Christina had gloriously large and tender boobies. When I lived in Ireland, I feel asleep in the rocking chair leaning against Christina's chest every night while Alex washed the dishes.

So Daddy is the one who takes care of Mommy? Well then that means Alex was Daddy, so who was Jared? Godfather? I don't know how, but it ended up that I labeled Jared as my father and Christina as my mother. A half-globe apart, never married and really preferred to have nothing to do with each other; they were just in love with the same person. Alex. I was raised trilingual in English, Gaelic, and Chinese, so who was Alex to me? Baba.