The scars of his father

Chapter 5. PEACE WAS FOUND INSIDE A BOTTLE

Selma’s eyes widened when he saw his father asleep on the workshop floor beside an empty bottle. The garage smelled like burnt oil, sweat, and alcohol.

Metal tools hung crookedly on the walls. Somewhere deeper inside the workshop, a radio played old music through static while mechanics laughed over a football match.

But Rafael Elias wasn’t moving. He lay beside an unfinished car with one arm covering his face, grease staining his shirt and whiskey pooled near his fingertips. For one terrifying second, Selma thought he was dead.

“Dad?” No response. Selma hurried across the garage floor, stepping around loose bolts and dark oil stains. His school uniform clung to his skin from the afternoon heat, but cold fear crawled through him anyway.

“Dad.” This time he touched Rafael’s shoulder gently. Rafael jerked awake instantly. The bottle slipped from his hand and rolled beneath the car.

His breathing came fast at first, panicked, wild eyes searching the room. Then they landed on Selma. The panic faded, only exhaustion remained.

“What are you doing here?” Rafael muttered thickly. Selma swallowed hard. “You didn’t come home yesterday.”

Rafael pushed himself upright slowly, wincing as one hand pressed against his forehead. Around them, two mechanics exchanged uncomfortable glances before quietly walking away, Selma noticed.

Everyone had noticed now. his father had become that man. The drunk mechanic was sleeping beside half-repaired engines. Rafael rubbed both palms over his face.

“What time is it?” “After four.” Rafael cursed softly under his breath and struggled to stand. His knees nearly buckled immediately, Selma grabbed his arm without thinking.

Rafael froze at the contact. For a second, father and son simply looked at each other. Then Rafael gently removed Selma’s hand, “I’m fine.” But his voice sounded weak, very weak.

Selma glanced toward the empty bottles near the wall: There were three, No, four. Something twisted painfully inside his chest. Rafael noticed where he was looking and quickly turned away.

“I just needed sleep.” The lie hung awkwardly between them. Outside the garage entrance, thunder rumbled across the darkening sky.

Rain was coming again. Rafael reached for a dirty rag nearby and wiped his face roughly before searching his pockets. His movements looked restless now, agitated like he needed something.

Finally, he found a half full sachet of alcohol tucked inside his jacket. Selma’s chest tightened instantly, Rafael noticed his expression and paused briefly.

Then quietly, without meeting his son’s eyes. He opened it and immediately drank the sharp smell that filled the air immediately, Selma looked away.

Rafael swallowed hard before exhaling slowly through his nose. Some of the tension left his shoulders afterward. That frightened Selma more than anything else.

The alcohol calmed him like medicine, like escape. “You should be in school,” Rafael murmured. “They sent us home because of the rain.” Rafael nodded absentmindedly.

His gaze drifted toward the workshop entrance, where heavy clouds gathered outside. For several long seconds he said nothing, then softly.

“Did your mother ask you to look for me?” Selma shook his head. Rafael laughed under his breath a tired laugh. “Of course.” The radio nearby switched songs.

Rain finally began hitting the zinc roof loudly. Mechanics rushed to move tools farther inside while muttering complaints. Rafael lowered himself onto an old wooden stool slowly.

His body looks older these days, not in age, in defeat. Selma remained standing near him awkwardly. Neither of them knew how to talk anymore, not properly.

The silence between them used to feel peaceful. Now it feels wounded. Rafael stared at the rain pouring outside the garage.

“She used to wait for me after work.” Selma blinked. Rafael rarely spoke about the past.

“She’d stand near the bus stop wearing that yellow dress she loved.” A faint smile touched his lips briefly. “Always complaining about the smell of grease on my clothes.”

His smile disappeared quickly afterward. Selma stayed quiet. Rain hammered harder overhead. “I thought things would get better once I worked harder.” Rafael rubbed both hands together slowly. “I thought if I kept trying,” he exhaled shakily. “Maybe she’d look at me the way she used to.”

Selma looked down at the concrete floor. He didn’t know what to say. Rafael laughed softly again. “But people change.” His voice carried no anger now, only emptiness.

The workshop owner suddenly appeared from the office. “Rafael.” Rafael looked up slowly. The older man hesitated after noticing Selma standing nearby.

Then he sighed heavily, “I need to talk to you.” Something about his tone made Selma’s stomach tighten instantly. Rafael seemed to notice too.

He stood carefully, “What happened?”

The owner glanced toward Selma again before lowering his voice. “You’ve missed too many deadlines.” Rafael’s jaw tightened slightly. “I’ll finish the Corolla tonight.” “It’s not only that.”

Silence, Rain crashed violently outside. Now the owner folded his arms. “Customers are complaining.” Rafael looked away immediately. “I said I’ll fix it.” “You came to work drunk yesterday.” Selma froze.

Rafael’s face hardened with embarrassment. “Keep your voice down.” “I’ve defended you for weeks.” The owner sounded frustrated now, but not cruel, almost disappointed.

“You disappear during shifts. You sleep in the garage. Last week you nearly damaged a customer’s engine because you weren’t focused.” Rafael’s breathing deepened slowly.

Selma stared at his father. He hadn’t known things were this bad. “I just need time,” Rafael muttered. The owner rubbed his forehead tiredly.

“We all need something.” Silence stretched painfully between them. Finally, the man sighed. “Take a few days off.”

Rafael looked up sharply. “What?” “You heard me.” “That’s suspension.” “I know.” Rafael’s face drained instantly. “No” “Rafael,” “No.” The word came out broken, desperate.

Selma’s chest tightened painfully, Rafael stepped forward quickly. “Please. I need this job.” the owner’s expression softened briefly.

“Then act like it matters.” Rainwater dripped loudly through a leak near the entrance.

Nobody spoke, Rafael lowered his eyes slowly. His shoulders sagged again, the owner placed a hand on his shoulder. “You need help.” Rafael stared at the floor, then quietly, almost bitterly.

“Help costs money too.” The owner said nothing after that. He simply walked away. Leaving father and son alone beside the unfinished car. Rafael remained standing motionless.

Selma could hear his breathing slowly, unevenly humiliated. The radio kept playing softly somewhere in the background. Finally, Rafael reached into his pocket again.

Another alcohol sachet, Selma’s eyes widened. “Dad,” Rafael tore it open with shaking fingers. “I just want quiet,” he whispered, then he drank.