Spacing out, occasionally his thumb – hardly anyone notices the pint sized Matoki perched on the sidewalk as they go about their mundane lives. You’ve been missing for an hour, twenty-two minutes and thirteen seconds. Fourteen. Fifteen.

But it’s alright, and the Sun is still high in the Sky (a little too hot for his coat of black fur and an ice-cream cone would make everything better). Toto watches as a dragonfly zooms by and waltzes back. It twirls around twice before buzzing off dizzily on its erratic flight path. Dragonflies are his favourite kind of insects.

It isn’t in Toto’s nature to worry since ‘being lost’ is not found in his dictionary. Not that he is – the little Matoki knows the way home by heart (literally, he’s got the district map stored in his processor). He’s just been lost and is merely waiting to be found.

Papa always said in his cheery baritone, “Well, if you ever find yourself lost, kiddo, just stay put!”

 

***

There are three stages to losing a kid.

The first is when you give the immediate area a visual sweep-through – it’s the peeling of your eyes out for that tuft of hair, that dirt-stained white tee or in this case, a glimpse of a blue wind-up Matoki. Behind the trees, under the benches, atop the slides, everywhere. Stage 2 kicks off when you realise that amongst all the mini balls of boundless energy, your kid is nowhere to be found.

PANIC is the mode you ultimately function in.

“Watch out!” You’ve barely processed the command when an arm shoots out and snakes itself around yours, pulling you away. Away from the certain death of the Fast Lane as a sporty red mobile zips by, 20mph past the speed limit (pipes Jokomato, information no one needs to know).

Stunned, it takes you a full minute to stomach the close brush with death and to register that the arm that still has you in its grip connects to a worried-looking, very dashing young man. “Miss, are you alright?” Your breath hitches at the back of your throat because the voice that leaves those lips is glorious. All the right notes of gravelly.

“I-in a minute,” you whisper back at the warm, coffee eyes staring down at you, “…or five.”

An afterthought; because you weren’t, really. Not with the fine china for a man still attached to a part of you. His white porcelain for skin is positively flawless and you wouldn’t be surprised if he started glittering in the Sun (har har). But it is the look of furrowed concern that drives your stomach into a churning, melting pot of butterflies. The good kinds.

Until Joko adds in his two cents and ushers you along, “Alright Pretty Boy, I’m sure Miss Lovestruck here would love to stay for a chat but we’re chasing a moving target.”

You’ve barely muttered an embarrassed, “Sorry,” and a heartfelt, “Thanks,” to the gallant stranger before you’re tugged across the road, this time, over a Zebra crossing.

Stage 3 is when it finally dawns on you that your kid is on the move. Away from you.

 

***

“TOTO!” you scream his name from a distance as you spot him standing in the shade of an ice-cream truck.

The blue Matoki looks up from his cone and lights up considerably, his blue key winding up in excitement, “NOONA! YOU’VE FOUND TOTO!” With a light hop, he’s got his arms around you and the relief you feel at finding him in one piece leaves you speechless. In a firm tone, Shishi addresses the clingy kid, “Toto, why did you move around? You scared us all. Don’t you know that you should stay in one place?”

Keying in on the worry he’s caused, Toto hops off to explain and points to a spot about a hundred meters away, “Toto was there. For one hour, twenty-five minutes and fifteen seconds because Toto remembers Papa said to ‘just stay put’. But bells rang because Toto was getting too hot.” The kid takes Shishi’s hand, placing it across his chest, above his still heated processor. “Toto is sorry,” he adds quietly. Shishi merely nods and Tats kindly pats Toto on the head, “we’re just glad you’re alright, kiddo.”

The youngest Matoki then turns back to you and you give the kid a reassuring smile, picking him up for a hug. “Noona, Toto misses Papa.”

 

***

“See these wrinkles, sweetie?” Disinterested, you barely look up and nod from across the countertop. You’ve had this conversation before – seventeen times to be exact, “I’m not getting any younger, sweetheart. Your old man just wants to see the world before he kicks the pail.” Your dad winks as he flips over your breakfast with a deft hand and you snort in a decidedly ungraceful manner.

“It’s a bucket, dad,” you say, handing over your empty plate for a second helping of pancake.

“Bucket? What bucket?”

“You kick the bucket to die. No one dies by kicking a pail.”

“Ahh, right, a bucket!” he quips back jovially, “Well, you know what I mean. So, may I?”

“…” Your second blueberry pancake seems to be taking forever to finish.

“It’ll only be for a month. A month and a half, max.” You can tell he’s stopped cooking and is now leaning his elbows against the counter table. You’ve only had each other since Mom died. To be honest, you are afraid. One month was a long time to be without Dad. But you’re your daddy’s girl and your daddy brought you up to be stronger than that.

Inhaling sharply, you stand up and the chair scrapes jarringly against the wooden flooring, “One. Month. Promise? Any longer and I’m changing the locks to the house.”

“One month it is then.” You’d never forget the twinkling excitement you saw in his eyes that day as you linked pinkies across the countertop.

One month turned into two. Two months into three. The letters took longer to arrive and sparser in between months. The last you’ve heard, he was boarding the last boat into interior Africa.

 

***

You begin the walk back home, with Shishi and Tats up front and the others trailing behind.

“You and me both, kiddo. You and me both.”

 

 

 

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And it only took me like forever to update. A thousand apologies. The time away probably deteriorated whatever form of writing style I once had but I hope to flesh out and differentiate the characters of each Matoki. Keyword: hope.

Mystery man!! Whoots! for dashing young men. It's really rather obvious though because too much description!!! (screams at self).

But thank you lovely subbers for your continued trust!