“MY STEP FATHER SOLD HIS BLOOD SO I COULD STUDY… YEARS LATER, WHEN I HIT 100 THOUSAND DOLLARS A YEAR, HE ASKED FOR HELP… AND I TOLD HIM: ‘I WILL NOT GIVE A DIM! ’”
Father Raymond is not my real father.
But he’s the only guy who never left me.
Mom died when I was only ten years old. My real father? Gone before I even knew her face. All my aunts and uncles have said the same thing:
“We don’t want it, we’re also poor… i’m so sorry apo ”
Only Father Raymond — the man who secretly loved Mom for many years — is complete.
“I’m with the child. I’ll take care of her. ”
We stayed in a small rented room by the river outside Manila. He lifts market boxes, repairs bikes, models old motorcycles, but he always insists that my uniform is clean every time I go to school.
One day, I need money for a special training course.
She handed me those wrinkled money that smell like a hospital.
“Oh my, child… here it is. ”
“Where did this come from, Dad?” ”
He scratched his head, ashamed.
“I sold blood in the hospital. There’s no problem with that. ”
That night, I cried and cried while lying, covering my mouth with a pillow so she wouldn’t hear.
Who would sell their own blood for a child who isn’t even blood of them?
Siya.
Over and over.
When I entered a beautiful university in Manila, he hugged me tight like I won the lottery.
“Study hard, son. Make a good life. I won’t stay on earth for long. ”
I promise her that I will pay for everything she did.
But when I started earning big at a tech company in Bonifacio Global City — already earning more than $100,000 a year — he refused to accept anything.
“Take care of your money, child. A father doesn’t pay back for loving his child. ”
Ten years have passed.
Got a nice condo, new car, luxury watch.
Is he? Still in the same small room, clothes are old, shoes are wide.
One day, he suddenly appeared across from my condo.
Skinny. I’m old. Hands are shaking.
He sat at the end of the sofa, as if he was afraid it would get dirty.
“Child… I need to ask you for help. ”
My chest is tight.
“Ano ‘yun, Tatay?”
He stepped up.
“The doctor said, I need surgery. About twenty thousand dollars. I knew that was big… just lend it. I will pay little by little, even if I sell candy on the street. ”
I was staring at him.
The guy who sold his blood for my studies.
The guy who eats ground while I have a new book.
‘The man who never said “no” to me.
I took a deep breath and uttered the most brutal words of my entire life:
“I can’t, Dad.” I won’t give a cent. ”
Father Raymond was silenced.
Her eyes were full of tears but no complaint came out of her mouth.
He just nodded very slowly.
“I understand, son.” Sorry for the inconvenience. ”
He stood up like a beaten dog. Took his old cap and walked to the door.
I couldn’t hold her back.
When the door was closed, my husband was very surprised.
“How could you do that to him?! ”
I didn’t answer.
I grabbed the car keys, got down to the garage, and quietly followed Father Raymond from afar.
He didn’t make it to the bus stop.
He didn’t go to the hospital either.
He walked for a long time up to a small chapel in the barangay. Sat on the stairs, bent over, and cried while covered with face in hands.
There I opened the envelope I’ve been carrying for three months.
Inside: a fully paid surgery receipt, the title of a new house in his name, and a document I haven’t been able to read in its entirety for a while.
Because the first line of this is written:
“DNA Test Result: Raymond Hernandez is not Louis’ stepfather… she is… ” Hide less