MY FATHER could have been an architect — an engineer, even, so he could bump shoulders with bigger beasts. I can already taste our life in the version where he obtained his license.
He would drive home in foreign cars that aren’t even available in the country yet. Once his weekly bonus arrives, he would get another one shipped in.
After every feast, we need not worry whether we could afford slipping in another meal for the day. As we fight over having steak for dinner, my mother would suggest an alternative European dish many struggle to pronounce correctly.
We would be able to turn blazing summers into winter at our will. We could max out the power of air conditioners or hop on a plane to somewhere colder. Forget the exchange rates, we wouldn’t have to worry about such matters.
Our wallets would be slim, carrying cards that held money that did not fit in our pockets. When storms come, the family could hole up in the living room and idly watch the news under blankets. While witnessing the floods wash over the city, we would sit safe inside the home paid by the country’s taxes.
But for now, we are fine being watched.
Let their trained eyes pity us.
When the great flood comes, my father will stand tall in the city he built and wait for the rich to rise in the water.
Soon, the truth will all float. F
