Daddy to the Rescue

"Daddy! Help me! I’m dying!"

(Scene: Living Room in your Apartment, somewhere in Hong Kong, December night.)

(The room is dimly lit. The clock strikes midnight. The sound of a key turning in the lock breaks the silence. The door opens, and YOU, a weary 48-year-old Father, step inside, carrying your work bag.)

(KIKI, your 17-year-old Daughter, caring but playful, peeks out from the kitchen with a knowing smile.)

Kiki: Hi, Dad. You’re late again. Did you have dinner?

You: Grabbed something earlier. Thanks for asking. (You set your bag down and glance around.) Where’s Kin?

(KIN, your 13-year-old son, is usually up playing video games, waiting for you before heading to bed. But tonight, the living room is eerily quiet. Kiki smirks and points towards the bathroom.)

Kiki: He’s in there… and he’s in BIG trouble.

(You frown slightly, concerned, but Kiki’s teasing tone keeps you from worrying too much. She walks over to the bathroom door, taps lightly, and calls out.)

Kiki: Hey, Kin? You still alive in there?

Kin: (groaning) No! No hope! I think I’m dying!

(Kiki bursts out laughing, leaning against the doorframe.)

Kiki: Good! Serves you right for pretending to be all grown up and drinking all that beer.

Kin: (in pain) It’s none of your business! I hate you, Kiki! I’m dying, and you’re laughing!

(Kiki turns to you with an exaggerated shrug. You shake your head, suppressing a smile, and step forward.)

You: Kin, it’s me. Are you alright in there?

(The moment Kin hears your voice, his tone shifts. It’s desperate and tearful now.)

Kin: Daddy! Help me! I’m dying!

You: Open the door, Kin.

(There’s a shuffling sound before the bathroom door creaks open.)

(Inside, Kin is kneeling on the bathroom floor, clutching the toilet bowl. His face is pale, his eyes teary, and the sharp smell of alcohol hangs heavy in the air. You crouch beside him, resting a steady hand on his trembling back.)

Kin: (sobbing) Daddy, my chest… it feels like there’s something huge inside, and I can’t get it out. I feel like I’m suffocating!

(You glance at him, recalling your own first experience of being drunk. You keep your voice calm and reassuring.)

You: You’ll be alright, Kin. You’re not going to die. I promise. It’ll pass.

Kin: Really? Are you sure? I swear I’ll never drink again! I don’t want to die, Daddy!

You: I know it’s awful right now, but trust me. Just breathe. I’ll stay here with you. Let’s try to get it out, okay?

(Kin nods and leans over the toilet. You rub his back in slow, soothing circles.)

You: Relax. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen.

(Kin gags and retches, but nothing comes out. His panic rises again.)

Kin: It’s not working! I’m never going to feel better!

You: It takes time, Kin. Be patient. I’m right here.

(A tense silence fills the room. Then, Kin’s body convulses, and he gags again. A small amount of liquid comes out, followed by a flood of foul-smelling, undigested food.)

(Kin clutches the toilet, gasping as relief washes over him. You wet a towel with warm water and clean his face.)

You: There we go. Feeling a little better now?

Kin: Yeah… Thank you, Daddy. You saved me.

You: Kin, I need you to promise me something. No more beer until you’re 18.

Kin: (nodding) I swear. I didn’t even want to drink, but we were celebrating. The Seniors won the championship, and they kept pouring me beers. I lost every game!

(Despite the situation, you chuckle.)

You: So the Seniors won, huh? That’s great. I know how much this means to you.

Kin: Yeah… it was one of the best days of my life—until I drank too much.

(You laugh and pat his shoulder.)

You: We’ll talk more about the game tomorrow. Go shower and get some rest.

(Later, you’re sitting at your desk in your bedroom. The room is quiet, save for the hum of the city outside. Kin appears at the door, holding his quilt and a bucket.)

Kin: Dad? Can I sleep here tonight? I’m still a little scared.

(You glance at the extendable sofa and nod.)

You: Of course. Bring your stuff over.

(Kin sets up the sofa bed, placing the bucket beside it.)

Kin: Just in case I need it again.

(He falls asleep quickly, his breathing steady. You sit beside him for a moment, watching the peaceful smile on his face.)

(Your eyes drift to your desk, where your late wife’s photo sits. She’s wearing a basketball jersey, holding a ball with a radiant smile.)

You: (softly) Jenny… they’re growing up so fast. I just want them to be happy and healthy. That’s all I ask. Kin wants to be a basketball player—I hope he makes it. I think you’d want to see that too.

(You lean back, the weight of the day finally catching up with you. A faint sense of comfort settles in as you switch off the light and lie down, the quiet hum of the apartment lulling you to sleep.)

(Posted on 11.1.2025)

#FathersStorySonsFirstDrinking