Pampers: A Short Story

Daim sat on the brown couch, his hands freed, legs crossed and eyes still. A half-burnt cigarette squatted in a bowl beside him, the rest of it already amidst the evening breeze. In front, Daim’s father fidgeted incessantly. He shifted to his right, then left, then right again, as if undecided of his final sleeping position. What stood in between was a packet of pampers -a quarter full- struggling to balance itself with ease.

“Oh come on, Dad! What do you want now?!” Daim shouted.

A moan was what Daim’s father could only afford. Ever since stroke overwhelmed him, uttering words was like running on a steep hill. Completing a sentence required a miracle, if not magic. Daim knew that his father’s restlessness meant something. It couldn’t be he was hungry; he was just fed almost an hour ago. It couldn’t be he was feeling cold; the fan was only directed at Daim. One reason was left: the mattress was soiled again.

“Not again, Dad! How many times must you wet this mattress?!”  Daim yelled again, this time more hysterical than before as he snatched the mattress away from his Dad, leaving the latter shaking on the ice cold floor.

It was like in a scene out of The Exorcist. A possessed Daim threw the mattress into the toilet, grabbed a bucket full of water before dousing it exuberantly. The empty bucket was then hurled onto the dining table outside – its job was over. Next, Daim pinched the mattress on both sides, carried it to the living room, kicked two innocent chairs along the way, before finally tossing it through the door. He unleashed his right foot, determined to kill the mattress once and for all. Lucky for it, the phone yelled suddenly. Daim answered the call – the exorcism was complete.

It was 12.35am and Daim’s eyes were already begging for sleep. They dictated the pace of the diaper-changing. Daim opened the pampers with haste, tearing its sides nastily. He then slid it below the legs, wrapping it up into a plastic cabbage. The unwavering smell of rotten eggs and peas poked Daim’s nose enthusiastically, forcing him to finally utilize his left hand for a nose pinch. Once the cabbage was disposed of, he took a new diaper and wrapped it around his father’s base. Daim’s eyes had been convincing. By 12.37am, the mission was accomplished.

___

Sunlight pierced through the window and straight into Daim’s eyes. No response. It remained patient, waiting for its heat to increase in strength as the minutes ticked by. An hour passed and still no response. The sun must have thought Daim was dead by now. Two hours and not even a flinch by him. Desperate, the sun rose higher, spreading its rays to the kitchen and then finally the living room. It was poised for a win.

“Argh! Argh!” Daim’s father screamed. The moans were long and deep.

“What do want?!” Daim replied. “Damn it! It’s only 11 now!”

Daim traipsed into the living room. There, he found his father shielding his face with both hands. He was also rolling back and forth as if on fire. Below him, a thick orange liquid flowed freely on the marble floor. The sight of it made Daim mad. It was as if he caught his girlfriend cheating on him. Daim stared at his father, his right palm now a solid fist. He could not take it anymore. 1,265 pampers ago, he led a comfortable life with his family. He now lived a lonely life, his father his biggest enemy.

“I have had enough, Dad!” Daim screamed. “I have spent too much time with you! I have spent too much money for you! This is just too much!”

Daim took a final gaze at his father before stomping out of the house, leaving it a shaken edifice. His father laid on the floor motionless. The stench around him gathered around his nose. It infiltrated through his eyes and into his grey matter. Daim’s father tried to move away from the urine but to no avail; it even worsened the mess as the urine crept into his blue shirt. His moans were ignored. His misery, neglected. It was the beginning of waiting.

___

“Honey, why doesn’t our baby stop wailing?!” Daim cried. “I’m getting sick and tired of it!”

“Relax, honey. I will take care of it, ” Hamimah replied.

It has been two weeks since Daim celebrated the arrival of his newborn baby. Together with his wife, Hamimah, Daim looks forward to bringing him up well. He wants to be a good father for his son, definitely better than his late Dad. Nonetheless, the first two weeks has been challenging for Daim. The constant cries often irritate him. Sometimes, he tries to entertain the baby. Other times, he helps change his dirty diapers. The experience has brought out the gruff in him.

“This is not the way you change diapers, honey, ” Hamimah said. “First, you have to the hold his ankles high. Then slowly open the diapers. Once done, slide it underneath his buttocks.”

“I know that!” Daim exclaimed. “But he still doesn’t stop crying!”

“It’s not over, honey,” Hamimah continued. “Next, use a wet tissue paper or cloth to clean up the excrement or urine. This is to prevent infection. It is also useful to apply some cream or powder. Finally, fasten the clean pampers tightly. A lose one will cause leakages and make our son uncomfortable.”

Daim falls silent. It was as if someone had given a smack right on his lips. Before long, tears begin to dive. Below, a pile of pampers stands by, ready to cushion their landings.

“Why are u crying, honey?” Hamimah asked.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m really sorry …”

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