Ignorance was Bliss

My uncle was a very peculiar man. Always ranting and raving about such tall tales. Could never truly tell which were fact and which were fiction. Bà always said he talks out his ass too much. But me? I hung on his

every

single

word.

Like bread soaks up soup, I was hooked. If I could be even half as amazing as my uncle, I’d be lucky. Living vicariously through his countless adventures, I could not wait for his next visit—his next story. And when I got older—when my parents finally trusted me enough to make it there and back safely, I would take the 3 buses it took in order to visit him.

All his stories swirled around me, encapsulating me each and every time. The time he swashbuckled with underground pirates in order to recover a priceless heirloom to the royal family that had been misplaced due to their son’s negligence. The time he accidentally fell in with the Chinese mob because he misplaced his glasses in a dive in Chinatown and stumbled across their secret operations. Loved that one. All sorts of crazy stories no one in their right mind would believe anyone to be capable of one, let alone all of them. But my uncle— he was capable of it all and more.

But one day. I don’t know what happened. He stopped answering my calls. Figuring he was busy or just got roped into his next big adventure… something. But it had been weeks since I had heard from him. Something felt… off— wrong even. Call it a section sense or whatever. I didn’t even bother telling Mā or Bà that day. I went straight to his house.

It was locked up tight. Luckily, I knew where he hid his spare key just in case I had to let myself in one day. I reached behind the opal statue of a raven that pressed against the side of his tiny home and grasped the key between my fingers. Turning the key in the keyhole, the keyhole never felt heavier, the pressure of the unknown pressing firmly against me. I opened the door, peering inside to a dimly lit home. I walked down the hall, almost completely passing the study I would always find him in. I noticed a folded up piece of paper laid atop a little black book on his favorite chair. My name was written on it in his handwriting.

My dear Genji,

Sorry kiddo, I tried my best to protect you, to make sure you grew up loved and cared for, after what they did to you.. what was done to you. I couldn’t just sit there and brush it under the rug. But I am also guilty. I didn’t stop it. I could have prevented it but didn’t. That’s a truth that has haunted me for longer than I’d like to admit. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep protecting you from this… you deserve to know the truth. I’m not your uncle. Never have been. And those people you call Mā and Bà— they aren’t your parents, not your real parents anyway. I can’t live with this anymore. I’m sorry.

Love,

Zan Yin

Like a sad, puzzled raccoon after it washes its cotton candy. A flood of emotions engulfed me as my happy childhood memories turned a dark shade of red. These crimson memories displayed the truth to me, a truth I didn’t know I was suppressing until now. As I flipped through the pages of the little black book I learned of horror after horror.

I was happy. I was happy, goddamn it! How could they? How could they do such a thing? And to think this wasn’t their first time. There were others… others that hadn’t made it. What other skeletons hid in their closets? Do I even want to know? My stomach retched. I can’t take it anymore. My chest feels like it’s going to implode. Heart pumping so hard and fast. Feels like my body and mind are throbbing, displaced from time. Who am I?

I should have visited sooner. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened. The worst day of my life. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. And I know it isn’t but it feels like it’s all my fault... NO. It’s their fault. They did this to me. They did this to so many others. Why should they get to live their happily ever after?

He wrote every truth in this little black book. He considered me as his only family since his own brother basically disowned him for their differing stances on the matter. Now I understand why they were so opposed to me seeing him or spending any time with him. He was protecting me. How could I have known he was taking all of their abuse and fighting with them constantly trying to justify their actions?

All the stories he told me— they were just a distraction. The tall tales were just a rouse. He must have been struggling with some dark demons and trying to protect me from the horrific childhood that I managed to forget up until this point. All of the bad memories came rushing back into my mind as I consumed page after page— truth after truth. I can’t believe I could forget such terrible things. Some, okay, yeah, I was really young, but I should have noticed something! I should have remembered!

I used to ask about the others all the time when I was younger but they insisted I just made them all up. How gaslit does a kid have to be before getting really messed up in the head? They must have done a real number on me to have made me forget everything or to get me to believe it was just all in my imagination. How could I forget the chains, the cages, the rancid living conditions, how I even came to this place— this country even? I wasn’t even from here! Where were all the others from? Did their real parents— their real families know what happened to them? And what made me so goddamn special?!

My life has been completely turned upside down like a rug pulled from beneath me and I’m drowning in this sea of atrocities. I’m all alone now… the only real family I’d ever known was gone. I dare not venture any further into the house, in fear of finding his cold, lifeless body... The last pages of the book held his will, leaving everything to me. He left everything to me but I didn’t care about any of it. He’s gone and the truth is just that harsh and revolting. Ignorance was bliss.

Translation (from Chinese):

Mā (Mom)

Bà (Dad)