I. Forced Freedom
There is nothing more devastating than having a door slammed in your face, especially when it’s your parents. It was mid-afternoon when the question popped into our conversation. After expressing my desire, no...my dream to continue a more artistic lifestyle rather than pursue colleges they forcefully suggested my parents recoiled at the very thought.
“I have done everything you asked!” I shouted at my father as shamelessly scolded me. “I went to a nice community college and stayed on campus, I took care of mom after her surgery by myself and worked at the civic courthouse for eight years under your supervision! All I want is this one thing.”
“To paint? To showcase your little collection in the windows of a thrift shop?”
“That’s an abhorrent way to say it but yes. All I ever wanted was to be an artist, to write and sell my work.”
“Honey,” My father said, and he put his hands on my shoulders. I could feel his grip twitch under me as if he’d want nothing more than to snap my neck. “Do you know when artists get famous and make millions off their work? When they’re dead. To tell you the truth you’re not even any good, there’s nothing for you to accomplish there.”
“But...it’s what I love to do.”
“Love,” Her father sighed, “Love does not pay the bills, LOVE does not put food on the table or a roof over your head. I’ve let you stay here and paint, let you dye your hair that ridiculous color...”
“It’s rose gold.”
“It’s pink!” My father snapped. “I have done everything for you and now it is time for you to take care of me!”
I swallowed hard and fought back the tears as my father continued his lecture on what was the right thing to do in life. He pulled some mail off the kitchen counter and made his way back to the living and handed them to me.
“You are a fragile little girl who doesn’t know what she wants. All your life I’ve had to guide you towards greatness, it is my duty as a parent. Throw away these useless dreams and pursue one of these colleges under a law degree. You’ll start your semester in the spring and get rid of all that art junk.”
“But...” I mumbled as I looked at the papers from various colleges. “I don’t want to study law.”
“It’s not about what you want Cora, I tell you to do something, and you do it. We came from a family of law careers, it’s for the best.”
It’s for the best... You’ll thank me one day... You don’t deserve me...You’re such a child.
I’ve heard phrases like this for years. My father was the man of the house, the voice, and the action while my mother and I sat silently and obeyed. Doing everything to succeed in his line of work, not once have I ever received recognition. I could build a mountain from gravel, and it wouldn’t impress him, but do one thing wrong, and he’ll never let you forget it. Was this what my life was going to be like? Living in his image in a world out of my control with no voice of my own. Was this my future?
Honestly, I didn’t know what I was thinking or what snapped inside of me to do it. I looked my father in the eye, his cold eyes and slung those papers into the fireplace. For a moment I felt free and powerful as I watched those papers surrender to ashes. Until I was hit with reality once more.
My body didn’t even have the chance to prepare itself when my father’s hand struck my face so hard, and I fell back onto the couch behind me. Without a word, he stomped from the living room only to return with my latest artwork in his hands. I knew what was coming.
“Stop!” I pleaded, “Please don’t do this, I’m sorry.”
A voice that fell on deaf years as he slammed my painted and art books into the fireplace. One by one I watched my life work, my dreams purge by flame. Getting exactly what I deserved.
“You are nothing!” He shouted in my face, “You’ll always be nothing without me! You’re lazy, you’re weak you’re pathetic and should have been a boy!”
“Dad stop!” I covered my ears, “Why can’t I have a little relief in this place! To do one thing I want without your judgement on my own life!”
“You want your own life? Your freedom?” He hissed. “Fine.”
I flinched as he snatched me up by my arm and pulled me through the house. “You’re twenty-eight years old and no longer benefit us as a household, so I think it’s time you stand on your own two feet.”
“No! Dad, I don’t have anything,” I replied as we approached the front door. The grip he had on my arm would surely bruise me. “I’m not even dressed properly.”
He opened the front door and let it swing into the wall, “You’ll thank me for this one day.”
Just like that, I was left outside on my own. I went from denial to acceptance as I wiggled the locked doorknob and climbed through various plants to knock on the windows, I realized how serious my situation was. After two hours I began my long walk from my life behind a white picket fence and to the Coffee Bean.
It was mid-September and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Completely barefoot wearing shorts and a tee-shirt two times my normal size, I ignored the cool breeze against my legs and took warmth from the sunshine. Keeping my head low and shielding my face with my hair, I wiped my tears and dried my face. Hoping I didn’t look too ridiculous to the oncoming traffic.
Twelve blocks later with new blisters on my feet from smacking against the heated sidewalk, I finally made it to my destination. Opening the doors, the gentle breeze of air conditioning greeted me along with the sweet smell of blueberry muffins and vanilla. The cool tiles gave instant relief to my sore feet, and I didn’t care who looked at me anymore. With the cheery bell above the door announcing my arrival, Ms. Wanda famously nicknamed Cookie Baby took her cue.
“Hi welcome to the Coffee Bean, but if you don’t have shoes, you cannot be-” she stopped, realizing it was me Wanda placed her hands on her hips and examined my appearance. “Cora honey where are your shoes, and have you been crying?”
What should I tell her that wouldn’t make me sound pitiful or reveal too much personal information? Thousands of excuses popped into my mind but the most obvious came out of my mouth. “My father kicked me out.”
Wanda’s jaw nearly hit the floor “After all you’ve done for them? Working in that stuffy courthouse, taking care of your mom and putting up with his parasitic ass they throw you out with no shoes!”
I felt ashamed of myself, looking down at my dirty feet I feel like I could have at least snatched up something on my way out. If only I were given the chance to. “I’m sorry. I know you have no shoes, no shirt no service policy but I just need a moment to talk Beckett.”
“Honey, you are family and can stay as long as you like.” Wanda pulled me inside and hollered towards the counter. “Becky! I need a large frappe with whipped cream and extra caramel!”
“Oh, I don’t have any money,” I informed her when she shouted my favorite drink.
“And take it out of your pocket!” Wanda bluntly added.
Escorting myself to our favorite lounge corner, a purple sofa with two red accent chairs surrounding a coffee table, Wanda gave me a spare set of slippers her niece left in her car, and I read a magazine while waiting for Becketts break.
Occasionally I would look up and our eyes would meet, smiling that same warm expression he always did. It would be a lie if I didn’t admit I had a slight crush on my best friend of twelve years. He was supportive, strong, and just overall caring. Definitely the mother hen in our small circle, not to mention handsome. What more could a girl want? Whoever he ended up with is going to be one lucky girl.
He remained in absolute silence watching me demolish my frappe and explained everything. His facial expressions went from perplexed to just sadly disturbed listening to my every word.
“I can’t believe they did that to you,” He finally said, “What did your mom say?”
“She doesn’t say anything once dad has made up his mind.” I sighed and put the empty glass on the coffee table. “Maybe he was right.”
“Why?” Beckett looked disgusted, “All because you didn’t want to go to a college, he picked out for you.”
“That and refusing to pursue a more money worthy career like his own. I don’t want to practice law or become a doctor. Despite my love for horror flicks you and I both know I can’t do blood.”
“Or haunted houses.”
“Hey, that clown came out of nowhere screaming, he’s lucky all I did was punch his red nose.”
Beckett chuckled at the fun memory of seeing one of his friends being traumatized. “I can’t believe his now actually honked when you did.”
I was feeling more relaxed already. Looking at my phone I thought about texting my parents, but what would I even say to them. I haven’t lowered myself into begging to come back, that would only result in doing what he wanted and me giving up my art. God only knows how much he has burned since I’ve been gone. Beckett must have seen the stress on my face as I stared at my phone. His hands found their way around mine and gently pulled the purple device from my grasp.
“So, what’s your next step?”
“Well,” I slumped back into the couch. “My job at the bank should hold up a very good paycheck to find a small apartment somewhere.”
Beckett clapped his hands and jumped up. “To the board, we go.”
The community board was a wall in the Coffee Bean that held local listings. From jobs, projects, concert announcements to housing. The colorful papers scatter board was our community’s lifeline to new beginnings and had just become mine as well. Unfortunately, my excitement quickly faded when I saw most listings were either out of my price range or came with the most absurd rules and standards. With one last hope, Beckett pulled down a blue paper from the top.
“This one is looking for a roommate,” he smiled handing me the paper. “This is perfect for you!”
“A roommate huh?” I looked over the paper. “Looking for a female roommate, final decision to stay will be determined on personality, personal hygiene, spiritual energy, and moon phases...what the hell?”
“Yeah, this one has been up here for months,” Beckett added. “Hasn’t scored a roommate...from what I heard she’s a witch or possibly crazy.”
“And this is perfect for me how?”
“Because you don’t have any other option.”
“Right.” I agreed while folding the paper and putting it into my pocket. “I’ll be giving miss crazy a call.”
“Do you have any place to stay until then?”
“Well, Jasmine is out of town this weekend and Keiko is attending a family outing in Japan...”
A smile spread across his lips. “What would your parents think about you sleeping over at a boy’s house?”
I scoffed, “They’d probably have a heart attack.”
“My place it is then.”
