Chapter 2

Misgivings

Sacred Heart High school was the only high school in San Ignacio. The school itself was a decent sized facility, sitting at the base of the one of the hills the town was known for, sporting several two story buildings that were 5 rooms long. There were also a few single story buildings facing the edge of the football field behind where the staff parking area was. There was an auditorium/basketball court next to a drain that cut in between halfway through the compound, using a couple of bridges to bridge the gap. The public parking lot started next to the bridge closest to the auditorium, with a dirt road leading to the front of the compound.

After leaving his Uncle’s classroom, Ray made his way through the school’s compound, dodging the last few students meandering around. At the gate, he hailed a cab, direct it to take him home, which was located in the Santiago Juan area. As the cab pulled away from the gate and drove up the hill, he looked out the windows, committing to memory as much as he could of his hometown, the twin towns, at least this half of it. The reason it was called the twin towns was because there were actually two entirely separate towns nestled right next to each other. The only thing separating them was the Macal river cutting through in between down from the Maya Mountains.

Truth be told however despite the name saying otherwise, they were treated as one, with one Mayor and one council running the show for both. The geographical location itself could be likened to that of a valley, as both sides of the towns were largely composed of hills, with residents taking up accommodations both on the summit and at the base of these hills as well as alongside the river side. San Ignacio itself was split up into several locales, including the downtown area, Kontiki, San Juan layout while the twin town’s other half, Santa Elena was split into the Hillview areas and the downtown area.

He took in the sights of the people walking the roads, the houses ablaze in their shades of yellows, reds and blues. The cab took a right at the crossroads halfway up the hill from school, and drove down Bullet Tree road. Santiago Juan layout was an area that was developed shortly after the town established and was situated not too far from the community hospital. The cab dropped him off in front of a tiny fenced yard with a house made of wood inside. The house was nothing extravagant, having 4 bedrooms (1 for him, 1 for his father and 2 for any guests).

Waiting on the porch for him was his dad, in his usual chair. He was an Asian man, and could at best be described as unassuming. Reed thin and looking not a day over 30, the only remarkable thing about him other than his long black hair that was always kept tied back in a ponytail, were his eyes. Dark eyes that always focused on you always checking everything out in the room for danger. Ray had asked him about this once and he was told that not being aware of your surroundings is a mistake that you should only ever make once if you survive to correct it. It was statements like this that lent the man an air of mystery and Ray sometimes spent his childhood days after moving in with him fantasizing just what encounters must he have had to say things like this.

One of the many mysteries surrounding his father was that although he never witnessed him work, they never lacked for anything. He always ate his fill, he was clothed, and the power and gas were always paid for and kept topped up. Heck he as one of the first, if not the first in his community to enjoy the service of internet. Yet whenever his curiosity got the better of him, his dad would always dodge the subject, saying something along the lines of “I had a big inheritance” or “I found some gold once”. Eventually Ray learned to just stop being surprised at things his father pulled out of the blue.

“Good afternoon baba, did I make you wait long for me?” Ray asked as he walked up to the porch after paying the taxi driver. One of the few things that his dad insisted on was to be referred to by the chinese equivalent of father.

“No, I had just finished my meditation. Besides, even if you had, I would not mind. I could just read a book” Han said. He then got up and walked inside. Always a man of few words and to the point. Ray chuckled to himself as his father would never outright admit that he got anxious if he arrived too late. Something about the circumstances surrounding his parent’s death led to him being incredibly cautious with Ray and as such the boy in question tried his best to now give him too much reason to be concerned.

Walking into the living room, he gave it a look around as he had been doing these past few weeks, trying to commit it as well to memory, as he could very well never see it again after he left following his birthday celebration.

“Did you talk to Berto?”Han asked from the kitchen area, the sounds of kitchenware drifting through the space between them.

“Yes I did, he says he’ll be coming with us for the sky diving over the Sleeping Giant Mountain with us.”

“Good, it would be good for him to share the experience with us.”

“You know, today he told me that he considers me part of his family. Told me to call him Uncle from now on and even gave me his gift early.”

“That is good. Taking in someone as family, is not something to be done lightly. Be grateful and remember to give him a thank you gift in the future. It is only right. Can I see what he gave you?” Han asked from the kitchen, the sound of food being plated echoing through the hall.

Ray took out the box that his uncle had given him and placed it on the dinner table, once again admiring the engravings on the box as he spoke, “I had to promise him not to open it until after we came back from out trip this Sunday. Weird right? I’m dying to know what’s-“

*CRASH*

The sound of plates breaking on the floor sounded and with a yelp Ray quickly looked over to the doorway leading to the kitchen where he say his father staring at the box on the table, a look of astonishment and….trepidation on his face.

“You said he gave it to you to open after your rite?” Han asked, his voice a whisper yet resonating throughout the room.

“Yes….? Why do you look so surprised? Do you know what this is?”

“I have an inkling but I shall not spoil the surprise. Don’t worry it is not a bad thing. But please keep your promise of not opening it until after your rite has been completed. Now come, put that away and let us eat. I made your favorite, sky treading rabbit haunches and salad made with thousand year old ingredients” Han said, quickly recuperating his cool and acting as if nothing had happened. Sweeping up the food and debris on the floor, he left and reappeared with another set of plates.

“Come on baba, you don’t have to give the food silly names like that anymore you know? I’m going to be 16 in a few days, and after we do that rite you talk of, I’ll be an adult, you won’t have to coddle me like that anymore” Ray said with faked exasperation, shaking his head and holding up his arms in a shrug.

“Nonsense, I may be strict and serious, but a good warrior must always flex his creativity. Giving these ingredients names are as much an exercise for me as it is to make you laugh.” Han said while puffing his chest out and holding out a rabbit haunch by the bone like a sword. Ray couldn’t help but snort and acquiesce that yes, a warrior needed to be creative.

They then spent the next hour talking about nothing in particular, ending with Ray picking up the plates and going about cleaning the dishes and what not. Han excused himself saying that he wanted to finish his book and retired for the night.

At this point, it was already time for himself to go to sleep, so after locking up he retired to his own room and laid in bed. Although it was already close to midnight, his mind was far from tired and it kept on focusing on that box that his uncle had given him. His attempts to wrangle his mind away from these thoughts led him instead to memories of when his uncle and father had first met.

It was back when he was 11 and his uncle had come over to help tutor him for the first time. Han had invited him to stay for dinner, to which his uncle had un-hesitantly agreed. However, that was when it seemed to have gone for the worst. When Han brought out the roasted “Iron beaked blood Turkey” and the soup of “assorted spirit herbs”, his uncle had almost gone catatonic in shock. Han was asked to a private conversation and both men then stepped into one of the guest rooms. What followed was almost two hours of shouting and arguing. The doors did an amazing job to muffle the contents of the argument to the point that he could simply not understand what they were fighting about, but he knew that his uncle was angry about something and that something seemed to be the food. Ray had no idea what was so bad about it, as he found the food to be delicious and since having been adopted by Han 3 years before, he had never had any sort of health issue related to food.

Afterwards, the two men seemed to have come to some sort of agreement because upon leaving the room, they returned to the table and continued on in companionable silence. It was so strange and yet he had never really given it any thought up until now. Seeing the look of shock and borderline irritation on his dad’s face was something he had only ever seen back then. Not to say that his father was not eccentric. When he was first adopted, Han had seemed rather cold and stern to him. He still remembered how on the day he was first picked up at the orphanage, Han had simply walked in, told him he was his now his father, to pack his things and they left. It took quite a bit to get to the point they were now. Even then, it only seemed to be after he had learned some martial arts from him that he truly started to mellow out. He loved his father, but there were two things that now popped up in all these memories that were now circling in his head. One was the distinct lack of memories wherein Han specifically called him his son. Sure, Han referred to himself as Ray’s father, but never directly said Ray was his son.

Another was that, he did not know his father’s full name. He just said to call him “Han” whenever someone asked. Ray would have liked to take up his father’s last name as well, but he was always told that his last name was “good enough”. He was Raymundo Gonzalez, but he would also like to include the last name of the man who gave him a home in that sentence as well.

Rubbing his face with frustration, Ray rolled over unto his side, his back facing the box on top of the nightstand and drifted into a frustrated sleep. Regardless of all these observations that kept nagging at him, Han and his uncle had put in a log of work to make this trip happen, and he would make the most of it.