When the birds stopped chirping

35. Like A Partition Needs Harmony

July 15th, 3246

Secretly, I hope that if I dream big enough, I'll understand why Mom departed brusquely, just like Yoko Ozumaki mysteriously disappeared. Yesterday's night, I cried myself to sleep, holding on to my Artea admission letter, after my barney with Dad. Even if I obtained an A+ on my portfolio, appraised by the selection committee, he refused stubbornly to let me attend art school:

"Get out my home right now and never come back, ungrateful brat!"

Dad had never gotten mad at someone that much, screaming at me as if I were an intruder and pushing me violently up against the wall, his sky-blue pupils staring at me fixedly,

"Silly, are you nuts? Joining Artea, what for?"

"You can't prevent me from studying arts! If you're not ready yet to answer my questions, I'll look for the answers myself! By embracing Mom's lost dream! Like Yoko Ozumaki said, 'Art is a medium of expression, and a medium of hope, against obscurantism'; she's right, Heavensgate, without its art community, would be bound to self-destruct, by the hands of the Party! That's why artists should keep up creating to denounce its evil doings!"

"Watch your mouth when you're talking to me, insolent kid!" he bellowed.

I counterattacked that he never listened to a word I said, answered a question I asked! He was a complete stranger to me, overworked, enclosed in his antique showroom from dawn to midnight if not bedridden by his depression at home or at the hospital.

To each other, we had always been strangers. I wanted to, I had the right to, know who in the world made of him such an emotional mess! Angered, he slapped me so convincingly that the blow threw me off balance to the ground. I stuttered apologies; eyes low.

"Before she went missing, she strived to become famous!" he remembered. "Heavensgate's wildflower, she was promised a great career in art, if she hadn't grabbed their eyes. That's how they cut the dreams of many independent artists listed as highly-dangerous extremists!"

Whether or not he agreed on allowing me to fulfil my utmost dream, I answered back that I was going to attend Artea no matter what, in whichever way possible, to find answers for myself, that I have spent countless nights and weekends preparing for this day.

"Foolish brat, running away constantly from the Party, is it the life you're aspiring to?"

"I've already made my decision anyway!" I answered back.

"Watch your manners, or else I'll teach you discipline..." he began talking, staring at me strangely.

"It's my earnest desire to attend a reputed art degree!" I appealed. "It's a unique opportunity, one in a lifetime!"

"Didn't I forbid you to behave and dress eccentrically?"

My heart skipped a beat when he yanked on my hair in a frenzy, "What have you done to your hair again?" he screamed. "Look at your showy hairdo... enough is enough, son!"

Heedless to my screams, he dragged me by my T-shirt to the upstairs' bathroom. Angered, he made me sit down in front of the sink. In his pupils shining, I could read immense despair and deceit. He ran his fingers through my ringlets, grumbling, "If you don't accept my rules, you're getting out of my house!"

"Don't... Please, don't... Please, forgive me..." I begged him.

"Give up on your dream!" Dad yelled, infuriated. "Don't you wanna live safely, by running the family's business when I'll grow old?"

"Don't... Don't I have the ability to choose..." I stammered, panicking when he untangled my dip-dyed curly mane and grabbed some scissors.

"If you failed to find a job, it'd only be a waste of time and dedication raising you up!" he rebuked, regretful. "To make a name takes more than just talent!"