Chapter 1
Thursday,
6:30 p.m.
All my tasks for Thursday were almost
done when I checked my organizer. Phew! This is a relief because it was getting
dark. I looked through my list again just to make sure I had only “squats,” “writing
to a friend about the Etsy website,” and “finishing up the last two pages of The Fiery Cross.” Yes, that was all I
had to do.
It had been a long
day with errands to run from the moment I put away my dirty breakfast dishes. I
had agreed to accompany my auntie Valerie to her dentist appointment to lend a
squeezing hand. This errand wasn’t included in my organizer, which threw off my
“Thursday to-do” list, but I still managed to tackle each task one after the
other as I consulted the list throughout the day. I knelt down on the floor by
my laptop to send a quick message to my friend about the website.
I rested my
palms on the keyboard, feeling the heat radiating from the surface of the
laptop. I had left the laptop on throughout the day, something that wasn’t good
for it. But I liked the feeling of the warmth as I began to type.
Hey, this is the
link for Etsy, and it’s really easy to use. I just take photos of the items I want
to sell with my camera, crop them nicely, say a few things about them and post.
No stress at all. The only hard work is getting people to know about the items.
That’s why I post the links on Facebook and Twitter so people can click on the
links and see the items that I have listed for sale on Etsy. Anyway, please use
this link to apply so we can both get Etsy rewards. Okay. Ciao J
Message sent. Now it’s time to do my squats. I had read
somewhere, probably in a magazine while waiting in line to check out at a
grocery store, that squats made the bum perky. I definitely want a perky bum. I
started a routine where I do thirty squats in the mornings and thirty more
before bed. It had been two weeks now, and I didn’t think my bum had become
perky yet. I’d look at the mirror, and then I’d always wish I had taken a
before photo to be able to compare. I’d never know now unless it became so
noticeable that someone mentioned it. Oh well, I know that results don’t happen
overnight. The squats weren’t too painful, so I figured I would continue. What
was the harm? Twenty three, twenty four, twenty five…thirty…my thighs are on fire ouch. Where’s my
water?
I took a big
gulp from the water bottle on my dresser. I heard footsteps coming toward my
room; then there was a knock on my door. It was Valerie.
“Emma,” she
called, sounding hasty. “Please come and help me with this TV.”
As I turned
toward the door, I put down the bottle, almost knocking it over with my elbow. Oops! “Coming,” I answered.
Valerie was
trying to get her new yoga DVD to play. I noticed that the problem was that she
had selected the wrong TV channel. Slender, long-legged, and pretty, she took
fitness seriously. It didn’t matter what time of the day, my auntie would get a
workout in. I haven’t been one to be too serious about exercise, but since I
started living with Valerie a year ago, I have gotten more and more motivated about
exercising. And I noticed that I look better so I asked myself why I never started
working out earlier. Valerie overheard me and said I was lucky I was only
nineteen years old. She thought it was a good age to get it right.
“When I was
eighteen, I couldn’t find my chin from my neck. Moving to LA was the best thing
I ever did because I became shallow enough to lose the pounds,” she said
nonchalantly.
Well, what can I
say? She looks great, and I thank LA for doing that for her.
-----
I graduated high
school at seventeen, two years ago. I know I’m a smarty-pants, and I’m extremely proud of it. I am clean and
organized, beautiful, and have a good sense of humor. I sound like a braggart,
but it’s true. I’ve been told numerous times by friends and random people that
I have a combination of qualities that is rare. Apparently, the funny girls are
either fat or ugly, and the beautiful girls are dumb. But I seem to have it
all.
At sixteen, my
body had developed well. A senior in high school who stood at five feet nine
inches tall, slim, with boobs and hips that came out at the right time. I
couldn’t pass a group of boys without making them drool. The funny thing was, I
didn’t wear skimpy outfits. I was all jeans and T-shirt, flats, and satchel,
with brown hair left to fall on my face in wild curls that sprung to my back,
and ide brown eyes slightly slanted, long nose, cheekbones that stood out so
much that the admiration got old pretty quickly, and full lips that I always
kept looking luscious with my cherry flavored lip gloss. But I knew that what
people saw was not real. I owned the face, and I saw what they did not see.
High School was
easy for me. I didn’t feel the anxiety one gets when they wake up in the
morning and think of the long day of hard classes, bullies, gossips, and the
smell of the hallways and bathrooms. I was generally comfortable with my high
school experience. Freshman year, which is typically awkward and uncertain for
some, turned out to be full of easy classes, new friends, and cool teachers for
me. As the school year progressed, cliques started to form. Even though I wasn’t
tagged as a popular kid or in their clique, I was still well-known. This was
largely because of my physical features; my height made it impossible for me to
go unnoticed among my sea of short friends. Once, at my school’s homecoming
dance, a lady who was an alumna, tried to make conversation with me. I remember
she said I had a nice smile, which was a lie, by the way, but I thanked her and
quickly pursed my lips. She has tilted her head and assessed me from head to
toe. What lie is it going to be now? I
thought, matching her demeanor and closing my eyes to slits like hers.
“You are
randomly and exotically confusing,” she said to me. That was my cue to walk
away. I wasn’t surprised about her confusion. She was not the first. So I
mumbled something unintelligible and walked toward the stage where a band was
playing and joined the crowd of dancers.
I was mostly quiet,
and that was because of my inclination to know a person before opening up to
them; I didn’t trust people easily. Once I got to know people better, I was occasionally
funny. I was smart because I took schoolwork seriously. I would study until I
got something or ask questions until it was clarified. The consequence was the
gift of being my “teachers’ pet,” a phrase I welcomed wholeheartedly. I had
numerous friends who were boys, none of whom I ever dated like the other girls
did. I didn’t yearn to know any boy on a deeply personal level. I knew the
responsibilities of having a boyfriend in high school; the need to be perfect
was too daunting a goal to strive for. I was okay with having them as just
friends.
I was slender,
which Sasha mistook for fragile because she did not anticipate the beating she
got after she called me jigsaw and proceeded to force my mouth open and prove
to the whole world that I wasn’t as perfect as I seemed.
Yes, I have
horrible dentition, and I have refused to wear braces. Braces, to me, are the
beginning of social awkwardness that can never be forgotten as long as social
media is alive and well. I’d rather keep my teeth clean and in its scattered
magnificence. After all, even my widest smile doesn’t show the lower row of my
teeth, which is the jagged part. God knew what he was doing when he gave me my
full lips.
I admit that I
do not fit any reasonable social group according to those “theorists” out
there. One would expect a beautiful
girl to be in the mean girls’ club. But I wasn’t. It’s almost a given that a
girl like me, with my physical assets, would expose them in sexy outfits; flaunt them if you’ve got them, right?
It was a no for me because I was in love with my jeans and T-shirts. What about
the theories that suggested that the smart girl would be socially awkward? I’m
sorry I don’t happen to be uncomfortable around people. I was just someone in
high school who was so different that I became appealing. My schoolmates either
moped or adored me or became jealous or emulated me or were just confused on
how to accept my persona. I hid behind the perfection that they projected on
me.
My teachers always
had so much faith in me and were eager to be part of my college-selection
process. By the time I started sophomore year, my calculus teacher already
started advising me to expand my college interest to include MIT. I didn’t have
the heart to tell them that I wasn’t interested in attending college. I went
ahead and indulged them while they smiled cheek to cheek and swooned about the
prestigious colleges that had accepted me.
I got into all
four colleges I applied to. I turned them all down. All my life I have always
been a listener and doer. I needed more challenge. I love to learn, but the
classes that were chosen for me in school never met the challenge I craved. I
knew that if I continued to do what people wanted for me, I was never going to
be fully satisfied with my life.
People would
advise me time after time to pursue something that they knew I could do very
well. Where’s the fulfillment in that? As a kid, my mother dressed me a certain
way, princess-like to be precise. I never argued and pleased her even though I
hated it. My father wanted me to study science; I never objected in order to
please him too. Friends and strangers described me the way they perceived I
was, I never disputed their assessment.
Senior year of
high school was when I gave myself a hard look in the mirror after eight years
of dodging my true image. I was going to work on myself to better understand
what was within and without. I needed to focus on what I wanted for myself and accept
the challenge. I knew that once I did this, I would be more comfortable with
the person I really was.
-----
When
I was eight years old
They all continued to cheer, with forced
whistles that sounded like some spittle accompanied the sound out of the mouth.
I strutted down the corridor, catwalking like my life depended on it, twirling,
and then turning to walk back to the starting point. I held back my smile that
was trying to escape from the stern look, remembering that “models don’t
laugh.” I reached the starting point, sighing heavily from the sense of
achievement. I looked at my friends and supposed judges for their verdict.
Frieda and Lucy continued to cheer while Paula had a doubtful, sort of pensive
face.
“Do your shoes
hurt?” Paula asked me, gazing intensely at my feet.
“No,” I replied,
feeling triumphant at the cheers I got for walking like those models I saw on
TV.
“Okay,” Paula
said to me. “You looked like you were limping.” And without further
explanation, she turned and skipped away, shouting, “It’s my turn.”
I gawked at
Paula’s departing figure, confused about what she had just said. I thought I demonstrated
the catwalk very well. Why did she call my walk “limping?” I let this go
because my eight-year-old mentality did not understand.
-----
When
I was nine years old
Everyone was so excited as my teacher informed
us.
“So the camera
crew will set up at the playground, and Mrs. Green will teach you all the song.
You will all be on TV.”
There were
answering cheers from all of us.
Mrs. Green, a
rosy-cheeked, jolly, round woman, arrived with the camera crew that afternoon,
and every kid in my grade was ushered to the playground. We were made to sit in
a semicircle as Mrs. Green sat down on a low yellow wooden chair, facing us.
She narrated a story about a race between a tortoise and a hare and how the
tortoise won the race. I did not expect the outcome. After the story, Mrs.
Green taught us two nursery rhymes and a song. She taught us slowly, and after
a few repetitions, the majority of us knew enough of the words to sing together
with Mrs. Green.
“Who would like
to read this story to everyone?” Mrs. Green asked.
We were all
quiet. I eventually raised my hand and was given the sheet of paper. I was
camera-ready in that moment with my clean school uniform and my pair of bright
white pair of socks and clean shoes, distinguishable among dirty socks worn by
boys who liked to play in the mud. My hair was cropped short and combed neatly,
but I patted it once more as I walked to the seat that was designated for the
reader. I sat down and looked up at the camera as it focused on me. “Ready?”
Mrs. Green asked, smiling with her red cheeks puffed out in excitement.
I nodded and
swallowed, straightening my paper on the desk. I rubbed my palms on my skirt
because they began to sweat. The cameraman started counting down to begin
filming: five, four, three, two, one - action!
Mrs. Green
visited our school five more times after that, and I got to read twice more.
The third time, I volunteered again to read, but my teacher thought it best to
let another classmate read. No one else wanted to read. He persisted for
another volunteer, even adding a reward of candy, but no one else offered. Then
he shook his head and randomly pointed at a boy who was noticeably trying to
hide inside himself. I wondered why he was going through all the trouble when I
was clearly willing to read for no reward at all.
While all the
kids were having a snack afterward, I walked over to go ask my teacher for some
water. I overheard him saying, “The parents were wondering if she was the only
kid who could read. After all, other kids are more suitable for television. I
couldn’t let her read again today.”
-----
Thursday,
6:55 p.m.
“Thanks, dear. Do you want to join me?”
Valerie asked, laying down her yoga mat.
“Nah, I already did some jumping jacks
earlier, thanks,” I said. She just laughed and pressed play to begin her yoga
exercise.
Valerie always
tells me that it isn’t enough to just skip or do some jumping jacks or jogs on
a spot. Of course I know that, but I’m a believer in half is better than none.
I went into the
bathroom for a shower, but first, my nightly ritual. I opened the cabinet and
reached for my tweezers. There was a lone eyebrow hair hanging limply on the
tip. I blew it away and began working on my excessively thick eyebrows.
Plucking and tweezing at the wayward strands, my eyes in pain, but I endured
because I knew the outcome would be worth it. I would take the pinching
sensation any day over a unibrow. I grabbed my shower cap that was hanging
behind the bathroom door and put it on my hair to cover my messy bun. I drew
open the shower curtain and jumped into the bathtub. I put my palm under the
running water, cold for some time until I felt it begin to warm, then pulled
the knob underneath the tap to get the water spraying from the showerhead.
The sensation of
the warm water on my skin was relaxing. Just what I needed after the day I’d
had. I lathered myself as my mind wandered to the TV show that I watched last
night. How could she have broken up with
him? I wondered. Never would I break
up with a guy who had eyes like that. He was just too fine for words. I
have watched this TV show diligently because of this guy. I couldn’t imagine
how any male could be as beautiful. Dark hair, grey eyes, yum! I smiled to
myself as I toweled my body quickly because it was cold, and I was beginning to
shiver.
I put on my nightgown
and got ready for bed after a small dinner of avocado wrap. I brushed my teeth
and then picked up my book to read. I slumped on my bed and regretted it
immediately as one of the legs was squeaky and sounded like it would break off.
So I settled on my side, being careful not to shake the bed too much. As I opened
my book, my phone rang--urgh! I stretched to pick up my phone from the night
stand not wanting to get out of bed. Pete was calling.
You see, Pete is
a guy I have never met. He had asked me to be his “friend” on Facebook, and I
accepted his friend request. I only did it because I noticed we had many mutual
friends, and it didn’t hurt that he was good on the eyes. I just thought it was
going to be one of those situations where I would enjoy looking at the nice
photos he posts and that would be the extent of our friendship. Or I could add
the occasional “Happy Birthday” when Facebook reminded me that it was his
birthday. But that wasn’t the case. We didn’t say anything to each other for
over two months after I had accepted his friend request.
Then came the
day I posted a photo of myself in a short blue dress, and I got a surprise
message. Pete wasn’t subtle about his approach. He hit the nail in the head. He
complimented my appearance like he had taken time to analyze the whole outfit,
me in it, and my pose. Funny enough, I wasn’t uncomfortable, considering that
it was not a happy time for me. I just mused at the realization that someone
who didn’t know me could be so raw and direct.
I replied his
message with a simple “Thanks,” and the rest was history. He switched from the
message box to the chat box. He left the chat box and transferred to phone
messages. Yes, I gave him my number. He included picture messages, and before
long, I started getting naked photos from him. This so-called relationship between
us was odd, but I allowed it. I needed a distraction in my life, and Pete
couldn’t have showed up at a more perfect time.
I was surprised
that he wasn’t shy to show me photos of his “package,” although I held on to
mine tightly when he asked. I never asked him to send me those photos, but I
never complained about them either. When he had bragged about the size, I just
thought, sure. But when I saw it, my
brain had this ringing sound that just didn’t quit. I couldn’t imagine how long
I looked at it without blinking. This was real life, I thought. I have to say,
I was impressed, and his hopes of “doing me” is something I smiled about
because I knew that we were never ever going to meet face to face. But I never
said this to him in order to not bruise his ego.
“Hey,” Pete
said, rap song loud in the background.
“Hi,” I responded,
so sure I knew what he was calling about.
“How are you,
sweetie?”
Oh that’s new. Concerned about my well-being?
Surprise, surprise!
“Good,” I
replied. “Just getting ready for bed, you?”
“I have your
latest picture on my screen right now, and I’m using it,” he said, laughter in
his voice.
“Eww, Pete, gross. Really?” I feigned
disgust.
“Yeah, don’t
blame me. You go putting sexy photos like that, and you expect me to ignore it?
I can’t, babe. That’s what you do to me.”
“I’m glad you’re
having fun,” I said.
“Can we Skype?”
I didn’t expect
this question. I really wanted this to be what it really was, a distraction. I
wasn’t ready to bring any guy into my life, not even if it was only
electronically. “My laptop is broken,” I lied.
“Use your
phone,” Pete said.
“While I would
like to Skype with you, I’m afraid I can’t add the app on my phone. It’s going
to mess up my data plan,” I explained, hoping he would fall for that excuse.
“Come on,” Pete
urged. “I need to see you.”
“Hmm,” I sighed.
Not that I didn’t
want to do something that exciting, but I disliked video chats, so I never did
them. Plus I didn’t want to encourage any close relationship with him.
“How about
this?” I suggested. “I’ll send you a photo of myself. It’s the best I can do. Take
it or leave it.”
I heard him sigh
because he could tell that I wouldn’t change my mind.
“Okay. I’m
waiting,” he responded, almost grumbling.
I cut off the
phone and went into the bathroom and took some photos with my reflection on the
mirror--click.
I went back into
my bedroom as I sent the photos to him. I heard my phone buzz for a text
message that I had received. It was from Pete, and it read, “Thank you,
beautiful.”
I smiled, picked
up my book, and proceeded to finish up the remaining pages.
-----
Friday,
6:50 a.m.
I heard my alarm. “Urgh!”
I slammed the
snooze button. I knew I had to wake up because today was an important day. After
repeatedly trying to convince myself that I could sleep for a few more minutes
without oversleeping, I decided not to take that chance and crawled slowly out
of bed and into the bathroom. When I turned off the shower and began to dry
myself, I heard Valerie close the refrigerator door, probably taking her lunch
for work.
“Bye, honey, and
good luck,” she called out to me as she shut the door that led to the garage.
I walked into my
room to dress up. I had brought out an outfit last night before I went to bed.
It was a slightly baggy pair of jeans, mainly known as boyfriend jeans, which
were ripped in the thighs and knees. I had also brought out a gray tank top,
and navy-blue Nike running shoes.
I dressed up and
faced my mirror as I got my hair into a big pulled-back braid. I didn’t wear
makeup. I wondered if I should eat something, but I decided to skip breakfast.
It was too early for me. So I hung my satchel on my shoulder and picked up my
car keys from the table. Heading to the door, I stopped by the mirror and
looked at my reflection.
I took a deep
breath in and then out, steaming up my mirror. I stood there for a few minutes
as the steam cleared, just staring at my face. “Nothing to hide,” I said out
loud.
I kept looking
at my face as I wished I had had this hairstyle the whole time people said that
I was beautiful. The braid exposed my face. I wasn’t hiding behind my hair. If
they had seen me this way and still called me a beauty, then it would have been
real.
“This can be a
different kind of beauty, right?” I asked myself out loud. We’ll see. “It’s go time,” I said to myself and walked out.
Chapter 2
When
I was seventeen
I was in my graduation gown looking at
the standing mirror in my dorm room. There was a smile on my face. I had just
finished high school, and I was proud of myself. I looked at my appearance,
head to toe and back to head, with hair pulled back underneath my cap. I took it
off and let my hair down and put the cap back on. Much better, I thought. Taking careful steps, I exited my dorm
room. I was still getting used to my painful new heels that I got specially for
the occasion.
-----
The ceremony was
over, and the crowd trickled to a large lawn at the front of the auditorium. I
found a few classmates who called out to me to take pictures with them and
later I joined my family to do the same with them. It was a very sunny, warm,
and breezy day, making tree shade the best area to cool off.
I was genuinely
excited about the photographs I was taking. With my diploma in hand, I posed,
making sure that my curls overflowed in their right places and my smile was
wide but my teeth did not show. Immersed in the ecstatic chatters and laughter,
one thing was clear in my mind, I hadn’t accomplished all I really wanted, not
yet.
It wasn’t about
a high school diploma. It wasn’t about my college prospects. I knew I wanted to
do one thing, but it was the most terrifying thing I could ever think of, and I
was sure that I would fail woefully if I ventured it.
That fear
started to creep into me. Not only did my heart begin to race, cold set in and
there were goose bumps on my arms.
“Sheesh,” I
exclaimed out of irritation.
The best thing
for me to do was to rid myself of that fear. My graduation day was supposed to
be about merriment, not an interview with myself about my next life goal. I will look for a happy group of people to
mingle with, I thought as I turned around.
I saw him
leaning against a tree, talking to my classmate’s brother. I felt rooted to the
ground. My mind went blank, and I couldn’t will myself to do anything. I just
stood there like a moron, gawking at a boy I had never seen before. I had never
entertained the thought of dating anyone because I just didn’t want to. The
boys in my school were boys, and I
didn’t want to deal with immaturity. Even my encounters with college boys did
not give me the urge to consider dating. But at that moment, I forgot
everything, including myself. My brain took a break, leaving me in a vegetative
state of lust. Then I let my heart surrender to my feelings, and I wish I hadn’t.
I regained my composure after a couple of minutes, but I couldn’t stop staring.
I tried squeezing my palms and wiggling my legs just to make sure I had
recovered. I heard my name. It was Valerie calling.
“Over here,
Emma!”
I walked briskly to meet up with her
and my parents.
“Congrats,
Emma,” Stella said as I passed by her taking photos with her family. Stella is the
closest person I have to a best friend.
I blew her kiss
and tried to focus on the graduation activities around me, but all I could
think about was finding out who he was. I wasn’t sure how I was going to sneak away
from taking pictures to make this happen, but I was determined to find a way.
After numerous clicks and flashes, I excused myself under the guise of going to
congratulate some friends.
He was still
leaning against the tree, looking at his phone. Should I just walk up to him? I wondered. I decided to meet up with
my classmate’s brother instead n order to ask about who he was.
I hadn’t gotten
close to where they stood when he suddenly looked up at me and wouldn’t look
away.
“Yeah!” I
rejoiced in my head, but then my knees buckled, and I fell on my face.
Two hands held
my elbows and helped me up. I was still reeling with embarrassment and couldn’t
look up. The person bent, picked up my cap from the ground, and handed it over
to me. I had to look up. My eyes met a smiling face, and I forgot my
embarrassment.
“Hi,” he said
with his right hand stretched to me.
I shook his hand
and answered hi back. His palm was cool, and his eyes were warm, light brown,
almost amber I think. I couldn’t stare for long, and I dropped my eyes to his
mouth. My goodness, did he have straight
white teeth! I thought. I looked up at his face and remembered to say
thanks to him for helping me off the ground.
His name was
Adam, and he was here for his cousin Rose’s graduation, a girl I had taken few classes
with. Her brother was Phil, the guy I had seen talking with Adam earlier. Phil
had a face that no girl could deny was hot. He looked like he spent too much
time grooming himself and would be one of those boys who struggled for mirror
time with their girlfriends. I regarded him as someone who was too much into
his appearance.
Rose was
gorgeous and now Adam. I concluded that attractiveness definitely ran in their family.
Adam asked if I
would have dinner with him and his cousins just like that. I didn’t mind that
it was going to be a group thing, but I was already having dinner with my
family, so we rescheduled for the next night. It was going to be just us, and I
was thrilled. I gave him my number, grasping my phone hard as it started to
slide out of my nervous sweaty palms. He left me with a swimming stomach and a
light head. He only smiled at me, and
this happened. My goodness he has
great teeth.
-----
“Stella, I’m a
little nervous.” My phone was on speaker, and I was talking to Stella as I
dressed for dinner with Adam.
My bed looked
like an eruption of a clothes volcano. After trying so many outfits, I decided
to go with Stella’s advice, “wear the first outfit you picked.”
“Wow, I can’t
believe it. Emma is interested in a boy,” she snorted.
“What’s that
supposed to mean?” I answered, feigning anger. “Of course I’m interested. He
just graduated from college. He’s twenty-three and mature.”
“Wow, Emma is
interested in older boys. Makes sense to me now. I couldn’t understand why you
didn’t want to hump all those fishes that swam after you in school,” Stella
said, overly excited.
“Eww, Stella, humping
fishes sounds wrong.”
Stella was
laughing. “Is he tall?”
“Yeah, probably
six two or three.”
“Ha! Perfect,”
Stella said happily.
As good a best
friend as Stella is to me, I have never confided in her a hundred percent. I
have never confided totally in my parents, so why would I in someone outside
the family? Don’t get me wrong, Stella is amazing. It’s just that, I’d have to
be extra-courageous to say something to somebody that might change my life
forever once it’s out there. So I just share the minimum and let the rest reside
in my head. At this moment, all I was worried about was getting through this date
with Adam and hoping it didn’t suck in the end.
I heard the doorbell
ring. “Bye, Stella, I have to go.”
Stella started making kissing noises.
“You better get to third base, and I want to hear everything about it,” Stella
said.
“Eww! Stella.”
As I went down the
stairs, I almost lost my footing and held tightly to the railing. Adam jumped,
but he saw in time that I wasn’t going to fall on my face again. I noticed he did
this thing with his eyes that looked like he was squinting, but then you felt
like he was looking into your soul. Then he said something to you, not serious;
but with that squinty look, it felt serious.
Anyone looking
at us from afar would automatically think he was deep in a romantic
conversation with me. He seems focused, like he had to concentrate to say what
he was saying because he could not say it with a plain face, you know what I
mean? Okay, maybe you don’t, but this didn’t help me because I’d get a little
flustered when he looked at me like that. I’m not overstating it; that was how he
managed to make me feel from the first time we spoke.
“Hi,” I
stammered when I got to the foot of the stairs.
“You look
ravishing,” Adam said.
“You
look…great,” I said, but that was an understatement.
He stood there
in his maroon dress shirt and dark pants, shiny shoes, tall with a buzz cut and
muscular self, so that for minutes, I found it hard to swallow. My mom’s voice
was my saving grace.
“Make sure you
take your key,” my mom called out in her loud voice from the back porch.
“Bye, Mom.”
----
I locked the
door behind me, and Adam stretched his right hand to me, palm up. I took it. We
interlaced our fingers together, and it felt natural to me. I did not know this
guy, but I felt like I did. I quietly walked with him to his car, a sleek Lexus.
I don’t speak cars, but I knew the logo at least. He opened the door for me,
and I got in, buckled my seat belt, and watched as he went over to the driver’s
door.
In that short
minute, I wondered if I was okay. It was too soon to feel so comfortable with
someone I barely knew. This seemed too sweet yet rushed. But we both seemed to
understand something that wasn’t said out loud, and we both appeared to feel calm
about it. When Adam buckled up, he looked at me, smiled, and I smiled back but
I looked away at the interlaced fingers on my laps.
“What?” He asked.
“Nothing,” I
said.
“Don’t be shy
with me,” he said but with a voice that held back laughter.
I liked the way
he sounded. It almost seemed like he had to whisper because his voice was too
deep. And when I answered okay, he had a short laugh that was surprisingly
soft. I really liked it.
Adam began to
drive. I had no idea where we were going, but I didn’t want to ask questions.
The music that played was soft rock. I think that was Adam Levin’s voice I was
hearing, but it was too low to tell. Let’s just say that his choice of music
did not surprise me.
It was quiet in
the car, and almost on cue, we both talked at once.
“Sorry,” I said.
“No, you go
first,” he said.
“Oh I…I…well, I
was just wondering how long you’ll be here.”
Adam didn’t live
in Boston. He had just visited to attend the graduation.
“Do you want me
to stay longer?”
I couldn’t
answer that. Okay, I could, but I thought it was ridiculous. How was I sure
that after tonight I wouldn’t want to be far away from him forever? I just
said, “Boston is nice. I’m sure you haven’t seen half of what the city has to
offer.”
He just laughed
his short sweet laugh. “Okay,” was all he said.
“Your turn,” I
said to him.
“My turn for
what?” he asked.
“Well, you were
going to say something.”
“Oh yeah, I was
going to ask how you felt about going to a concert after dinner.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” he asked. “You
don’t have to.”
“No, it’s not
that.” I said. I had heels on and I wore a dress, so I just couldn’t imagine
standing or dancing for long in my shoes. “What concert?”
“It’s the Coldplay
concert. You’ll change into something comfortable of course,” he said like he
read my thoughts.
“You know I
didn’t bring any comfortable clothes, right?” I asked.
“That’s not
going to be a problem,” he said as he smiled at me.
Mischievous I like. “Wait a minute,
when and how did you get tickets? They’ve been sold-out for months.”
“I have my ways,”
he said and he looked at me. For that split second, I forgot that he could kill
us since he needed to concentrate on the road, and he wasn’t.
----
The restaurant
was dimly lit and airy. I liked the location because it overlooked a lake. I
could see the boats and yachts, and even though they looked idle, I thought
they did something magical to the lake at night. Adam passed me the drink menu,
and I looked at him with a frown. He took it back, laughing, and said he knew
the exact drink he was going to order for me. Then we looked through the dinner
menu and ordered our meals. I could sense his eyes on me, and I tried not to
panic. As great as it was to be the center of attention at this moment, I was
beginning to dread it. I had to strike a conversation immediately.
“So tell me
about Adam,” I said.
I got a wide
smile in return. Adam folded his hands on the table and moved them as though
what he was going to tell me was a secret.
“Adam is not
interesting,” he said to me.
“I doubt that,”
I returned.
“Okay.” His face
took a slightly serious tone, which for some reason made me feel uneasy.
Maybe he isn’t comfortable with me yet, I thought. Just
as I was about to tell him that he didn’t need to tell me anything, he began to
talk about Adam.
“Adam is a boy.”
This made me laugh
out loud. He laughed also. Phew!
He continued, “I
like football and my mom. I like my dad too, but not as much. While I loved
college and my frat life, I feel like I will enjoy this next phase of myself
more. I am a one-girl kind of person, and I love cars and music. I’m an only
child. Parents divorced when I was thirteen, and I’m ashamed that I have lived
with my mom all this while and will be moving out in two weeks.” Then he
squinted at me like he was expecting me to say something disapproving and
painful.
“Where are you
moving to?” I asked.
“Here,” he said
without blinking.
Wait, what? I mused.
“I got a job
here, and I am partly here to look for an apartment,” Adam said.
“Really?”
Almost
immediately, I regretted asking. My voice took a high note, which could only mean
that I was too happy to hear it. I would try not to make assumptions until this
night ended, and I was convinced that there was going to be a second date.
“Yes, really,
Emma,” he said, smiling.
I liked how he
pronounced my name. It was almost like he said Em-ma, sort of like I had two short names in one.
“Okay,” I said
with a shrug, like I didn’t care much, but it was too late because it was clear
that I was faking, and that made him laugh.
“What about
you?”
“What about me?”
I asked.
“Well, graduate,
are you going to be here for college?” he asked.
I’m not sure why
my stomach sank a little, but I started to think he wouldn’t like the idea that
I was not going to college. I knew I liked Adam, but I was not going to
reconsider my decision not to go to college. I really had to focus on my next
step in life, and it didn’t include college.
“I’m not going
to college, Adam.” I paid attention to his features while I said that to him.
No reaction, or maybe he was just good at hiding his expressions.
“Didn’t you get
into any?” He asked.
I smiled. “I got
into all.”
“Then what’s
your reason for not wanting to go?” He sat up and drew nearer, like he didn’t
want to miss out on my interesting excuse for not wanting to attend college.
How was I going to answer this question without giving
away too much or lying? “I guess I need to make up my mind about what I
really want to do,” I said him. This was partly the truth because I knew what I
wanted to do, but I needed to assure myself that I could and should.
“You don’t know
what you want to do?” He had a look of disbelief. I wondered why. “From what
I’ve noticed about you so far, I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who was
still deciding,” he said. “You seem to me like a person who knows what she
wants.”
And he just
totally figured me out. I smiled because he was right and also because it felt
weird for him to know me so well in a very short time.
“Well, thanks,
Adam. I have decided not to rush so I don’t end up doing something I’ll hate.”
“Good point.”
Our food came.
Adam’s was first, and I didn’t know that I had my mouth open in shock. I had no
idea that he had ordered ribs for a dozen people. That platter was huge. He
noticed my face and said, “I love meat.”
“Yes, you do,” I
replied, and he laughed.
My shrimp meal
came.
“Nice,” he said,
pointing at my plate.
“It looks great,
right? I asked as I took a fork full.
He nodded.
“So Emma,”
“Umm,” I replied
because I had a bite of food in my mouth.
“It’s your turn.
Tell me things you want me to know about yourself other than the fact that
you’re stunning, smart, and clumsy.”
I’ve been called
beautiful and most of its synonyms all my life. While I appreciated Adam’s
compliments, I worried. Don’t get me wrong, attraction is good but I would have
preferred to be noticed mostly for my smarts first. I decided to let it slide
and said thanks but that I wasn’t a clumsy person. He just happened to be
present the two times that I had ever
tripped in my life.
“I have an older
brother, Eddie, who lives in Miami. I live with my mom and dad, who aren’t
aware that I’m not going to college by the way. Matter of fact, you are the
only one who knows at the moment.”
Adam nodded.
“I love music,
books, and shopping. I like to try things that pump my adrenaline.”
“Daredevil huh?”
he asked.
“Not exactly, I
just have those days when I like the thrill of doing something quite
dangerous.”
Adam dropped his
fork and knife, interlaced his fingers, and rested them under his chin. He had
a slight smile that was to his right cheek, and he looked at me straight on. I
got uncomfortable, feeling my ears get hot.
“Eat your food,
Adam,” I said, trying to get him to give me less attention. I didn’t anticipate
how nerve-racking it would feel to have someone who supposedly liked you,
across from you, looking straight at you like they could count every pore on
your face. This had to be one of the most uncomfortable moments I’ve gone
through, ever.
People admire me
from afar. People compliment me from afar. I have only sat this close to my
parents. Please eat your food, Adam, and
stop looking at me like that, I pleaded silently. Did he hear me? No way. Maybe he saw that I was uncomfortable
because he picked up his silverware and cut into his ribs.
Adam opened the
door of the restaurant as we exited. I walked out and then felt his hand on the
small of my back, guiding me to where he parked. I felt something shoot up
through my spine and caught my breath. I had to breathe out quietly and acted
like I didn’t know his hand was there.
“We are going to
go get ourselves something casual,” Adam said as we got into the car.
“Where?” I
asked.
“One of those
stores I saw earlier.”
-----
We walked into a
clothing store called Styling, and almost immediately, it seemed like we were
very important. Eyes were on Adam and me, Adam for the most part. I didn’t
blame those girls and women, but I secretly screamed, back off.
Adam was
definitely not less than six two. You could tell he was well-built because his
shirt did nothing to hide those muscles. His pants looked like they were
tailored on him, and then that face – the lips that always looked red, hot,
inviting. He walked like a boot-camp instructor, with an air of a rich kid. I
just liked being around him while he was admired. I knew I didn’t need him to
make me look good, and I was grateful for that, but I liked being with him. Thank
goodness I wasn’t bad-looking because I would have imagined people wondering what
he was doing with that “fugly being!”
One of the salespeople
walked over to us and greeted us. He was looking at Adam too much, and Adam was
so oblivious, it was cute.
“Interested in
anything in particular today?” Rashawn asked Adam.
“Yes. Where do
you have ladies’ casual clothing?” Adam asked.
“Right this
way,” Rashawn said.
We followed
Rashawn as he showed us where the jeans, T-shirts, skirts, shorts, blouses, and
dresses were.
“Thanks,” Adam
said.
Rashawn stood
right there even though he knew we didn’t need his help anymore. I was about to
frown at him, but I thought it looked funny to have a guy admire your guy. Wait a minute. Is he my guy yet? I guess
we’ll see.
I walked out of
the dressing room, and Adam was sitting on a low futon looking at his phone. He
looked up and assessed me. “Yes, this one,” he said.
I had already
tried two outfits earlier: skinny dark-blue jeans and a red low-cut top and
short yellow skirt and white sparkly tank top. He said yes to both.
“You’re not
helping, Adam,” I said to him scowling.
“That’s because
you’ve got the body for all of them,” he said with a smile.
I decided to
take what I had on; red skinny pants and black polka-dot tank top.
“You need a flat
pair of something,” Adam said.
I laughed. How thoughtful. I picked up black flats,
and we were on our way out. I won’t mention the fact that I thought everything
was overpriced, but Adam just smiled his side smile when he saw my face as I
noticed the total price.
While I was
thinking of where I could possibly change and if I should go back into the
store, Adam said, “We have enough time to get to my hotel.”
“Your hotel?” I
asked shakily.
“Yes, I need to
change to something casual too,” Adam said.
I didn’t say anything
further. He could have easily taken me back home to change my clothes, but he
didn’t.
-----
We entered the
parking lot of the hotel, and Adam opened my door.
“Thanks,” I
said, holding my shopping bag with the pants, tank top, and pair of flats in it.
I let him lead
the way, walking slowly, partly because of my high heels and also because I
wanted to admire him from behind. We got into the elevator and stopped at the
twenty-third floor. He opened the door, and I was greeted with cool air that smelled
wonderful. It was a suite, impeccably designed and it looked extremely clean. I
followed him past the living room to another room that was way too large. It
was his bedroom, and I didn’t know if I was invited, but I went in anyway.
“Wow,” I blurted
out without meaning to.
“What?” he
asked.
“I like your
room,” I said, then immediately regretted it because he had that face that
definitely held back something raw.
Then I looked at
the large bay windows with curtains that were open, overlooking the city. Adam’s
hotel room was in the middle of downtown Boston, and the view from his bedroom
window, which showed the lights and the river, was beautiful at night. Adam closed
the curtains as he turned on the lights. I looked around, and okay, I was sure
cleaners came in here all the time, but I liked how he placed his keys and
wallet on his reading desk - careful and straight. Looked like a clean guy to
me or with a case of OCD, either way, I could care less.
Adam turned to
me and just stared, leaning on the table. It was silent in here, and apart from
hearing my heartbeat, I could hear the silent buzz from the AC. The lights he
put on were quite dim, so his face was shadowy and looked a little
intimidating. He cleared his throat and pointed to the bathroom door.
“You can change
in there, while I go ahead and do the same here.”
I nodded and
made my way to the bathroom. It was huge when I turned on the light. Mirrors
seemed to be at every corner. I looked at my reflection: my eyes looked bigger
than usual, and the neckline of my dress was a little low. I may not have
adjusted it well after I changed back in the dressing room in the store. My
hair was a little out of place. It took a lot of pins to get it to stay in its
appointed sections. My nose was a little shiny, but all in all, I looked smashing.
I smiled and then stopped smiling when I looked too long. Time to dress up, Emma, I thought to myself.
I walked out of
the bathroom with my dress and heels in the shopping bag. Adam didn’t have a
shirt on yet. He was looking at something on his laptop and turned when he
heard me.
“All done?” he
asked, looking surprised.
“Yeah?” I said,
raising my eyebrows.
He closed his
laptop, got up, walked to his bed, and picked up a shirt. He had already
changed his pants to jeans. I could only see his side when he wore his shirt. It
was hard and muscular; that line can only be there if there’s a six-pack and
the side rib.
I looked away
because I felt like I was doing something really bad by casually admiring his
body. He wore a light-blue dress shirt and folded the long sleeves to his
elbow. Someone really likes dress shirts,
I thought. He left three buttons open as he had done to the one he’d worn
earlier, but he did not tuck in this one. I kind of liked his style. He took a
bottle of water from his refrigerator and asked if I wanted one. I shook my
head, no, because I couldn’t find my voice. After he drank some water, he put his
wallet in his back pocket, held his phone and keys on one hand, and took my
hand with the other, leading me out without a word.
-----
It was packed
and noisy, but I liked it. Adam led us fluidly to our spot; everyone seemed to
give him the right of way as we walked. I stood in front of him, and he held my
waist. I had my head tilted slightly backwards as I leaned on his shoulder.
When the music
started, the screams were incredible. After the opening-act finished, out came
Coldplay, and it seemed like I was going to be deaf by the time the concert was
over. I felt Adam’s breath on my neck and his heartbeat on my shoulder. His
touch and embrace seemed familiar to me. I felt so comfortable, and I wished we
could stay like this forever, seriously.
We started to
sing together with the crowd, jump on the spot, and sway from side to side. At
some point in the night, I’m not sure what song it was, but it was quiet, as
quiet as a concert could be, and the lead singer Chris Martin’s voice and the
piano were going softly. Some people, who knew the song, sang quietly because
that was the mood of the music. When Chris Martin sang the chorus again with
one other band member, the part where it said, “I will light you up with my
love and even when your heart races, it won’t be an attack but a high,” Adam
bent his head to mine while he raised my chin and kissed me.
First, softly
and then deeply. Our lips felt hot, searching, and intense, like this kiss had
been building up for some time. My knees felt like jelly, and I feared for my
balance because Adam’s arm on my waist seemed to be the only thing that kept me
on my feet. I couldn’t hear anything, not the music, not the concertgoers’
screams. I could feel my own pulse on neck sprinting, my heartbeat out of
control, and lungs warning me for air.
Just when I was
sure that I would pass out if I continued to kiss Adam, he paused his lips,
turned me to face him, and hugged me. I just stayed put because I couldn’t
think, and I was sure I wouldn’t have remembered how to stand on my own if I
tried.
-----
The car lights
flashed on my front porch as Adam drove into the driveway. The windows of the
house were all dark. I would be surprised if my parents were still awake. Adam
turned to me and touched the side of my face. His palm was cold, and I think
that was what caused me to shiver. He gave me a kiss on the cheek without
saying a word. He unbuckled his seat belt and opened the car door. While he
walked over to my side, I fumbled for my shopping bag in the backseat. He already
opened my door for me. I got out, but he didn’t get out of the way. It was so
quiet and dark, but I could trace the planes of his face. It was shadowy from
the car lights. I hesitated, thinking of what to say.
“Thanks for
tonight. I truly enjoyed myself,” I said to Adam.
I’m not sure why
my voice was shaky, maybe because I couldn’t make out where he was looking, but
I had the feeling that he was looking straight into my eyes. Then he cleared
his throat.
“I’m glad,” he
said. “I leave tomorrow, but can I see you when I get back in two weeks?”
“Totally,” I
replied. Urgh, I answered too hastily,
I scolded myself.
“Okay,” he said.
He walked closer to me and carefully placed his lips on mine. He let his hand
slide to my waist, got both of my palms, and squeezed them gently. Then he
whispered, “Sweet dreams.”
I nodded with a
smile as I thought, oh, absolutely. I
watched as he drove away, and then I took off my shoes and walked barefoot to
the front steps where I just sat, with so many emotions swirling in me that I
couldn’t think of anything in particular.
Chapter 3
“Come on, Stella. Don’t you think it’s
actually too soon?”
Stella had
called me the next morning even before I had the chance to go downstairs for
breakfast, and she was surprised that I had picked up my phone from my bedroom.
She had expected to hear me answer tiredly from a hotel bed.
“I’m just
saying. You were so excited I thought it
was gonna happen.”
“Nope it didn’t, and it’s better that way,” I
replied.
“Okay, tell me,
tell me, after you changed your clothes in his bathroom, what happened?” She asked with a melodic voice, stressing
bathroom.
“I went out, and
he got ready, and we left.” I didn’t want to reiterate the half-naked scene and
how I had to control my eyes, but Stella caught the “he got ready” part, and I
had to explain what I meant by that.
“He had to put
on a shirt,” I said, giggling.
“Oooh, niceee!”
said Stella. “So tell me, Em, six packs, V line…”
“Yes, six packs
intact and everything. I had to keep myself from running over and mauling him,”
I said with a sigh, remembering that bod.
“Okay, okay, so
you guys went to the concert…”
“Yes, we got
there, and it was packed. So cool, Stella, you had to be there.”
“That’s why I
have you narrating. So you guys danced, I’m assuming?”
“And kissed…,” I
said. I heard an excited shriek on the other end of the cellphone line.
“Oh my, oh my,
tell me, how was it?” Stella asked excitedly.
“Stella, all I
can say is I didn’t want it to end. I’m totally sold. He can have me any day.”
“Eeeeee… Em is
in love, Em is in love,” Stella sang. I didn’t argue because I thought I might
as well be. “Wow, what has he done to my friend? So you guys going on a second
date?” Stella asked.
“Probably. He
asked if he could see me again, and guess what my answer was?”
----
I went down
stairs for breakfast, skipping two steps and whistling. I knew it wasn’t like
me to whistle, but I couldn’t help myself. I could smell fried eggs and coffee,
and somehow, I didn’t have the tension that had been eating at me for a while.
I knew I had to tell my parents that I wasn’t planning on going to college, but
I didn’t know a good time to break the news. Sometime between leaving my
bedroom and going down the first step, I decided this morning was the best
time.
My dad was
pouring a cup of coffee from the coffee pot, and he put his cup on a saucer as
he headed for the dining table. My mom was dishing some eggs on our plates, and
the toaster made its ding sound.
“Morning, Dad. Morning,
Mom,” I said as I walked to the counter where the toaster was to put the
toasted slices of bread on a plate.
“Someone sounds
jolly,” my mom responded.
“Morning,” my
dad said. He was already looking at his iPad, probably at the morning news.
The toaster
makes four slices at a time, so I put in another two because we ate six slices
among the three of us and then took the plate of toast to the dining table. I
took my seat while my mom brought our plates of eggs and a cup of coffee for
me.
“So how was your
date?” my mom asked as she took her seat.
“Fine,” I said
without looking up.
Okay, I haven’t
really spoken about boyfriends with my mom. Sure, there were the occasional guys
stopping by from school and my mom just asking who they were. The guys were
mostly at my home for group projects. Sometimes, the topic of boys came up when
there was a school dance, and my mom would try to find out if I had a date. I
always had a date, but I never showed complete interest in anyone before - for
my mother to give me the talk.
I knew she was
not going to do that right now, not during breakfast and not in front of my
dad, but I was pretty sure that fine
wasn’t going to end the conversation. So I decided to tell her some things I
did on my date, minus the things I knew should be left out for the sake of my
father’s ears.
“We went to this
really nice restaurant overlooking the lake at Massachusetts Avenue. It was
awesome.”
“Oh, wow,” my
mom said. “Restaurants there are pricey. Was the food good?”
“Yeah, tasty. I
asked for more.”
My dad looked up
at me, eyebrows raised.
“No, you didn’t,”
my mom said.
“Of course not,”
I said. “But I was close.”
My mom laughed.
“So Adam seems
like a nice person,” my mom continued.
Come on, not now, I thought. Meanwhile, my dad had
his, “I can’t hear you guys because I’m concentrating really hard on what I’m
doing” face.
“Yes, he’s
nice,” I responded. “We also went to a concert.”
I switched
topics. I saw the side of my dad’s mouth twitch like he was going to smile. He
just sipped his coffee and tapped on his iPad. On a normal morning, my mom
would nag about how breakfast was the most important meal and had to be eaten
with grace – okay, not with grace – but she would have told my dad to “ditch
that thing until breakfast was done.” Surprisingly, Adam was more important
than breakfast today.
“Nice,” my mom
said. “Concerts are great as long as you don’t have that one kid who keeps screaming
nonstop and crying her eyes out,” she said.
“Yeah,” I agreed
without quite understanding. I wanted the concert conversation to end there, so
I refrained from asking for clarification.
“So any chance
for a second date?” my mom asked.
Okay I have to change the topic. “Hopefully,” I responded.
“Sometime after two weeks.”
“Why after two
weeks?” my mom asked, looking a little confused.
“Oh, Adam has to
go back home, but he’ll be moving to Boston in two weeks. He got a job here.”
“Great. I’m not
a fan of long-distance relationships, so that’s good.”
“Yes, mom,” I
agreed. “Umm, Mom, Dad…,” This is it,
I thought.
My dad raised
his head from his iPad to look at me. Mom looked at me too, still with the
smile on her face.
“I’m not going
to college.”
“You gotta be
kidding me!” my mom yelled.
My dad was still
looking at me, expressionless, but I knew that look very well. When my dad
tries not to say something he’ll later regret, he looks at you for a while. I always
thought he was formulating his sentence, eliminating all curse words and
rearranging every phrase so he could present the sentences pleasantly. But make
no mistake, he will present it with a tone that will give you chills, and have
you rethinking your actions.
Softly, my dad
said, “You are not going to college because?”
I let out an
audible breath, not aware that I had been holding it. I arranged my response
and looked him in the eye as I answered.
“Because I don’t
need it for what I really want to do.”
“And what you
really want to do is?” my father asked with a slight edge in his voice, tilting
his head to his right side.
Oh boy! This is not good. When my dad
bends his head that way, a major self-assessment lesson is on its way. If I
give my dad the chance to say more with his head tilted, I will cower and back
out of my decision when he is done. Not
gonna happen, I have to make a convincing case.
“Acting.”
This response
brought the room to a complete halt. You could hear a pin drop. My mom’s face
lost its color, like all the blood had drained from it, and my dad’s eyes had
narrowed into slits, eyeing me. Come on,
say something, I pleaded with my eyes.
“Acting?” my mom
repeated. She got up from the dining table and started clearing the dishes. My
dad was still looking at me; then, I watched his face soften. What’s happening?
“You never took
acting classes,” my dad said.
“I did. I just
never participated during stage productions or anything major, just class
projects,” I responded.
“And you like acting?”
my dad asked, his expression looking a little amused.
“Yes, I do. I
got great feedback from my teachers, and, Dad, I enjoy it. It’s effortless,” I
said.
“Biology is
effortless to you too,” my dad said, but with a trace of humor.
“Many things are
effortless to me, Dad, but not like acting. With acting, I get to become
someone else temporarily and explore behaviors that may be new to me. I may not
agree with my character’s values, but that’s the fun of it, Dad, doing
something that I won’t normally do. I want this,” I said.
“I wouldn’t have
pegged you for being interested in acting,” my dad said to me, looking
thoughtful. “When did you decide you wanted to do this?” he asked.
In that moment,
I was transported to the day I decided to become an actress, the day I took my
last acting class exams. Up until that moment, I still considered a career in
mathematics. As a child, people around me had instilled in my mind that I had a
gift for grasping mathematics easily. I didn’t want to become a teacher, so I
had wondered what other cool ambition would be perfect for a mathematician.
Then I came up with “Math Scientist,” which sounded cool for a while until I
took my first acting class. I loved every moment I spent learning and
practicing scenes. When I was assigned a character, it flowed out of me like I
was made for the role. The reactions I got from my classmates and teachers
encouraged me, and the satisfaction I felt after every acting project was all I
needed to confirm that I wanted to become an actress. I knew my parents weren’t
going to be thrilled about the idea because they categorized acting as an
unserious profession. I had talent in other fields of study, but acting was,
without a doubt, my passion.
My parents may
be disappointed in my career choice but I knew they wouldn’t stop me from going
ahead with it. I could study acting in college, but I didn’t see any point to
it. I was comfortable with the idea of delving into acting jobs immediately. I
just needed to convince myself that it was the right thing for me, and no one,
except myself, was stopping me.
“I’ve always
wanted to act since freshman year, but I made up my mind during finals week,” I
responded.
“And you are
very sure that you want to act?”
“Yes, Dad, I’m
sure.”
“Emma, do not
think I wouldn’t support you. It’s just that I know you can do more. You got
into all the schools to which you applied. Do you know how rare that
opportunity is? Granted, you’ll be saving us a whole lot of money, but I want
you to have a future. Acting is uncertain. Your mom would know.”
“What? Was Mom
an actress?” I asked with my eyes too wide to believe what I had just heard.
“For a minute,”
my dad said, laughing.
“Hey, I heard
that,” my mom’s voice called out from the kitchen.
My mom walked
back to the dining room with a glass of water, looking me in the eye. I didn’t
look away. “Look, Emma, I’m your mom, and you know I will support you in every
way and in everything you do. It’s just that I don’t think acting is for you.”
My dad got up at
this point. It was his cue to get away from the inevitable mother-daughter
fight. He had said his piece, and he supported me. It was now my mom’s turn. I
just didn’t believe I heard that from my mom’s mouth. All my life, my parents
have said how I was too gifted for a normal human. How I could handle anything
that was thrown my way but now acting was not for me?
“What’s that
supposed to mean?” I asked my mom with a voice I didn’t mean to use, but I was
getting angry and couldn’t help it.
“Emma, watch your
tone,” my mom said quietly. “Like your dad said, I was in that world briefly,
and I saw that it was all hype. I just don’t want you getting into something
that is a waste of time and has no rewards.”
Nope, that’s not it. I know why she doesn’t want me
to act, but why won’t she just say it as it is?
“The fact that
you didn’t make it doesn’t mean that I’ll fail at it too,” I spat out and
didn’t think of the weight of my words until they were out of my mouth. Too
late, but I was too angry to admit it wasn’t fair of me.
My mom did not
seem angry. She just sighed and sat down. “Emma, I’m not trying to be
discouraging here,” she said.
“That’s exactly
what you’re doing,” I retorted.
“Okay, I get it.
It’s just difficult for me to understand this new twist. You’ve never shown
interest or done things that remotely hinted at a love for acting. You have to
love the field to be able to survive it. It’s a grueling occupation.”
“Mom!,” I almost
screamed. “You didn’t pay enough attention, that’s why. I’ve always done what
you and Dad wanted me to do. Did you ever wonder if I was interested in
anything else? It’s always been something that you think I’ll be comfortable
with. I get it. You’re protecting me, but have you sat back and thought if
you’re doing me more harm than good?”
My mom didn’t
like what I had said at all. Her face was flushed, and she lowered her eyes.
With quivering lips and a low quiet voice, she said, “I had no idea I’ve been
tying you down. I really had no idea. Pursue acting, Emma. One thing I’m sure
of is that you excel in whatever you do. I hope you find a way to make this
work. You’ve got my support.”
She got up and walked
to the back door into the yard. I felt tears stinging my eyes, but I wasn’t going
to cry. I had been disrespectful, and I was sorry, but this was about myself. I
had to think of accepting myself and what I really want for myself. If I throw
acting away, then I’ll be closed off forever. With acting, I’ll be exposing my
physicality and emotions, which will be challenging because I’m used to
generating solutions to problems without emotions. Tackling this challenge will
give me total satisfaction. I only get this satisfaction in my acting classes,
and I realized that if I adopted another profession, then I would deprive
myself of happiness.
As I went
upstairs to my room, my phone buzzed, and a message came in from Adam. Oh crap! What’s he going to think when I
tell him I’m going to pursue acting?
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