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The lack of wrinkles is mostly due to the fact that neither smile very often. I’m not surprised when I approach, and I’m not offered a single grin let alone a hug.
I bow to them in respect anyway. “Are you proud, mommy?” I glanced at my dad, “dad?”
They only nod and usher me to their expensive yet sensible dark blue Tesla.
???
I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, my chin perched on my cupped hands as I watch my parents quarrel back and forth in Japanese. I’ve just graduated from UT Austin, and they’re deciding what I need to do with my life. My mom wants me to get married to the man they’ve already chosen, and my dad wants me to get my Master's first. Obviously, it doesn’t matter what I want. It never has.
Yet that nagging voice in the back of my head is nudging me.
It’s time to take a stand before they’re enrolling you in business classes or shoving you down the aisle.
I did stand up for myself when I graduated high school and they were insisting I major in business and minor in accounting. It took a lot of convincing, or should I say arguing, to make them agree that I would double major in business and civil engineering.
Of course, they wanted to know why, and of course, I couldn’t tell them the truth. That I craved adventure; that I watched every season ofStation 19and was hooked from the get-go. The camaraderie between peers, saving lives, and making a difference.
Instead, I said I was interested in environmental engineering, which I knew would be acceptable to my dad, and that he would convince my mom that a double major was more impressive.
I’m barely paying attention to the dispute. My own is being held in my head as I weigh the pros and cons of stepping on their toes for the second time in twenty-two years.
Then, I notice my mother gaining momentum, and my father giving in. Something about the man of their choice being ready to settle down. I panic.
“A year!” I shout.
The room goes silent, and ever so slowly they turn in my direction, different levels of astonishment covering their expressions.
“Excuse me?” I’m not surprised it’s my mother who asked. She’s always been more assertive, surprisingly enough.
“I would like a year to sow my oats before I do everything you want.”
They both open their mouths to disagree, so I hurry on.
“Please mommy, dad, I’ve never asked for much, and twelve months isn’t very long.”
Brows furrow, noses wrinkle, and looks of bewilderment ensue before my dad asks, “And what exactly will you do in those twelve months?”
I can feel the heat of a blush flushing my face, just knowing it’s a ridiculous shade of red.
I glance down at my fidgeting hands, annoyed at my telling nerves, so I stuff them between my thighs.
“I’d like to use my degree to learn the ropes of becoming a…” I gulp and hide it behind a cough. “A fire engineer.”
They study each other before my mom offers one of her patented stares that thoroughly put you in your place and make you want to beg for forgiveness even though you have no idea what you’ve done.
“And why exactly would we do that?”
I can’t contain the shrug which I know is my first, well, maybe second or third mistake. I must not show weakness in front of them, it’s as good as dripping blood in a shark-infested ocean.
I straighten my shoulders, sit up straight, and speak in a clear voice. “There are several reasons, including that it would broaden my horizons, help me gain confidence, and build several skills, including goal-orientation and learning to interact with people from every walk of life.”
I say some more bullshit when all I really want is the freedom to choose.
I’m pretty sure I only managed to wear them down. They agree, no doubt to make me shut up, but I’ll take whatever I can get.
“Fine, but come May you’re getting married,” my mom declares.
My father begins to disagree, but then thinks better of it. Even he, one of the most stubborn people I know, is aware when he’s been beaten.
