1 The First Lie
My real father was a candy maker, and was out of the picture since I was born. I don't know what happened, mother won't tell me. At four, I already could trust my own brain, and I always wondered about my father. I promised to all the stars in heaven that I'd be a rich candy maker, like him. I was addicted to all kind of colorful sweets around the school. When I was eight, my mother felt alone because most of the time, I was in school or in the street, playing with my friends. But my happy days didn't long.
"Sometimes, people who have dead partners must move on," mother said, looking down at me. I was drawing a family picture at that time, all in white crayons. Mother said I must use black so she could see how good an artist I am. But I said I hate black, so I kept on drawing, with focus eyes and hands.
"Jim, someday you'll understand," she continued, rubbing her hands against my hair. "Some lost things are not worth searching for."
The next day, a man in shorts and sunglasses arrived at the door. He's a dentist and very skinny. My fat mother opened the door, and they talked in the kitchen while I was redrawing the family picture, still with white crayons.
I heard mother said, "He's sick for a week."
"No, I'm not!" I screamed.
The following week, I was not allowed to walk out the room. I was very ill. The dentist (mother didn't trust doctors) was back, now in formal uniform. He said maybe I was overeating candies. I said I didn't eat even one piece for the past two weeks. He said he'll give me a new robot, the latest one, if I tell the truth. I said they're under my bed.