Where Is Father?
I am a student at a Catholic school, and because our house is quite far from the school, I always have to get ready early so I won't be late. If we arrive late, our teachers usually punish us—sometimes even Father himself, along with the nuns in the school.
I have a younger sibling named Henry. Sometimes we end up being late because of him, which often makes our teacher irritated. My brother can be very stubborn.
It was just a normal day. It was already Friday, and I was looking forward to resting over the weekend. Our mother had already prepared our food for the day—something for recess, lunch, and even extra in case we got hungry later.
I was just waiting for Henry to finish taking a bath and getting dressed so we could leave for school. But as usual, he was taking forever. I started shouting at him from outside the bathroom because he was moving so slowly. I was sure we would get scolded again by our teacher.
I was already thinking about the 45-minute trip from our house to school, and Henry still wasn't ready. We would definitely be late again. I was already trying to think of an excuse for Father, because every Friday he liked to chat with the security guards outside the school gate.
Finally, Henry finished. We hurriedly rode to school. And of all the times, there was even a bit of traffic on the way because of a small accident.
Henry kept trying to look outside to see who got into the accident, but there were too many people gathered around. We didn't bother getting down from the vehicle since we were already running late.
When we arrived at the gate, the guards immediately teased us. They joked that we would be punished again and that they were ready to watch which one of us would end up singing alone on stage with a microphone.
It was Friday, but we noticed that Father wasn't there. I asked the guards about him. Usually, aside from making us sing, Father would give a long sermon that would make us miss our first subject entirely.
One of the guards said that Father was talking with someone in his office. Hearing that, my brother and I quickly ran to our classroom so the guards wouldn't report us to our teacher and so we could still catch the class. Only five minutes had passed anyway.
When I arrived, my classmates were still arranging their things. I was safe for the day.
Our first subject ended without anyone knowing we had been late, and I decided not to think about it anymore. Then my friend nudged me and whispered that it was a miracle I hadn't been punished today.
We both laughed.
Suddenly, our teacher called my name.
I stood up nervously, thinking the guards had already reported us. I was already preparing myself for whatever punishment I would receive. I even prayed that maybe I would just be asked to clean the classroom.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed my brother standing outside the room. He looked like he was waiting for me and signaling for me to come out, but I ignored him.
Then our teacher told me to go see one of the nuns. Apparently, Father had asked her to find me because there was something only I could do.
I'm not trying to brag, but I was given the talent to draw. There is a wall in our school that I personally painted, and Father liked it very much.
After hearing the reason, I quickly went outside. My brother immediately asked me for some coins so he could buy a spoon because we had forgotten ours at home in our hurry.
Before giving him the money, I asked him to accompany me to the nuns' quarters. Just as I expected, they wanted me to paint another mural, this time near the school gate.
As we were walking toward Father's quarters, we ran into him. He told me that he wanted his face painted as a caricature on the wall, with all of our names written beside it.
I agreed immediately. I told Father that we would get a camera from the school journalists' room so we could take his photo as a reference.
He said he would wait in his office while preparing himself. Since it was still early, I asked my brother to come with me.
Henry wondered why Father's face would be painted on a mural. He asked me if that was even allowed.
I didn't answer him. Instead, we went to get the camera. One of the student journalists came with us since I didn't know how to use it.
We went straight to Father's office. He was already there, ready for the photo.
While waiting, Henry and I noticed some chocolates on his desk and asked if we could have some.
Father was kind to us. Sometimes he was strict because he wanted us to be disciplined, but when it came to food or help we needed, he never refused.
Just as we were about to take the photo, Father said he needed to use the restroom first.
At that exact moment, the old bell from the chapel rang—signaling that there was an important announcement in the quadrangle.
The three of us immediately ran there. We didn't even get the chance to tell Father.
When we arrived at the quadrangle, everyone looked confused—even our teachers. The only person standing on stage was a police officer.
He cleared his throat and spoke.
"Father is gone."
Everyone gasped. We were shocked.
We had just been with him earlier. He had only gone to the restroom.
Henry ran first. Licia followed him, and I ran after them toward Father's office.
When we arrived, we saw a nun inside. She was fixing the chair that Father had just arranged earlier before he went to the restroom.
The three of us felt chills run down our spines.
No one spoke.
Finally, Licia gathered the courage to take a photo of the chair using the Instax camera.
The photo slowly came out.
It showed only the chair.
No nun.
And—
Who was the Father we were with earlier?