“Did you see my Adi?” I could imagine my daddy asking mommy and she would answer no, Daddy then would scan around the whole house, looking for me. But he wouldn’t find me. I was already thrown out the trash bin. Mommy did that, she said I wasn’t wanted anymore.
I could recall clearly when Daddy had gone to work, my siblings gone to school, and how my mommy sneaked into my small room. She started caressing me rather harshly, as though I was full of dirt. Mommy never spared me a glance, let alone coming into my smelly, damp, and lightless room, so I was happy when she did that. Usually, Mommy only cared for my older sisters. My sisters were very lucky. They got everything I had ever wanted, but I still loved them. At least they ignored me.
I loved my daddy the most, he cared for me, even bathed me since Mommy wouldn’t. She said the house didn’t need something like me. What was my sin? Was it because I was too obedient? I always did what Daddy and Mommy wanted me to do, while my sisters didn’t do what they were told sometimes. Or because I couldn’t speak? At the time, my sisters’ constant bickering was too loud already. Was it because I was different from my sisters? I was short and had white stripes on my body ever since I was born. My daddy thought they were pretty, but Mommy didn’t like them. She said I was too plain. Or was it because I never prayed before going into the bathroom? I didn’t know how to pray, Mommy never taught me. I was too unworthy that Mommy put me in another room, alone. I was only six years old, it was hard to understand why Mommy hated me so much.
So vivid in my memories how Mommy picked me up, how I could have screamed out of joy, and how I held my happiness because I didn’t want to scare my Mommy. But then, Mommy put me into the trash bin. Mommy put me among the other garbage, looking hard at me as if I was a mistake, scaring me, saying, “I should have thrown this trash sooner.” Mommy covered me with a plastic blanket before she left. The trash bin was smellier and damper than my room. It was terrifying. Why? What did I do wrong this time? Then, I heard Daddy came home from work, but he didn’t ask about me. Maybe he would find me here on weekend, the time we often spent together playing football. But until the yellow truck came and the men in orange threw me into it, Daddy had never found me.
I could imagine my gentle Daddy searching for me, panicking, and Mommy would pretend as though she didn’t know. In a few days, or a week, Daddy would give up, too. The siblings would not even remember I existed. Mommy would confess that she had thrown me out and Daddy would forgive her. Soon, even Daddy would forget the kid named Adidas Copa Mundial Classic. The only thing I always remembered about that night was my Mommy’s parting words; “Too bad these shoes are beyond repair.”