my dad became religious when i was 4 and my brother was 5. he turned serious and strict. he threatened us with condemnation when we acted like children and prohibited everything that somehow couldn’t be explained as an act of praise for the lord he just started believing in. according to the puerto rican evangelicals, baby jesus didn't approve of music not devoted to it or movement that wasn’t worship to the holy trinity. they said television was a weapon used by the devil to infiltrate christian homes and corrupt the minds of children so all but one were gone. my dennis the menace comics were replaced by fables about whales eating men, sacrificial lambs, and some guy and a donkey. papi didn’t know my mind was being consumed by scary monsters and multiplying questions about my mother.
my titi wasn’t with it. she shielded us. in her bedroom, prohibition didn’t exist. long as she was home, my brother and i were free to actually act our age. it was our little land of heaven and the portal to our dad. the fun dad we had before he transformed returned when titi was around. with her help, we got papi to do things the church wouldn’t approve of, like going to the movies.
titi took us to see the lion king when i was 5 and my brother was 6. we convinced papi to come along by promising we wouldn’t put up a fight and be ready on time the next morning for sunday school. enthralled doesn’t encapsulate what happened. i laughed. i cried. i sang. i danced. i had many epiphanies. one of them being that i could imagine something other than monsters. i could imagine simba. i could be simba?
the next morning in church class they said that i needed to clear my mind and allow jesus to take control of it. i tried and when i did, it was simba winning against the monsters i had lost to the night before. is simba god? am i god? should i tell my dad?
after church, papi took us to k-mart for icee and pizza. we were familiar with the store since papi got his meds filled there. oftentimes we’d have to wait so we wandered around. my dad knew to find us by the toys. he got to my brother but this time i wasn’t there.
i had stayed frozen in the boys clothing section. a shirt. blue like the sky. an imprint. simba on top of mufasa looking at the stars. i needed it. if i’m simba then that’s me and my dad. i was trying to picture simba in my mind when my dad finds me. i look at him and a realization startled my 5 year old self: if i am simba and my dad is mufasa, then papi dies.
the crying starts. papi hasn’t said no. papi hasn’t said anything at all. it‘s not the tears of a kid who can’t get what he wants at a store. it’s the tears of a kid who has just realized his dad could die, multiplied by the discernment that if and when it happens, he’d have no parents. no dad. no mom. completely alone. i try to tell him but the tears wouldn’t stop.
papi tells me to stand next to him. he lifts me and sits me on his lap. papi gets the shirt and tells me that is me. i am simba. he is mufasa, and just like in the movie, i will never be alone. i have to look at the stars and he will be there. then he corrects himself and says god will be there but it’s too late! we started laughing. he hugs me the tightest he ever has.
Love this 💕