“Well, did you ever stop to think that I might be disappointed too?” I asked.
“You should be,” dad said firmly. “You broke the law. You degraded yourself and our family. You brought yourself down to the level of a common drug mule. We are a respectable family… we are a decent family and you—”
“I didn’t mean I was disappointed in myself,” I interrupted coldly, unwilling to hear dad’s soapbox speech all over again. “I meant I was disappointed in you… in both of you… my parents.”
“In us?” dad asked incredulously.
“Yes,” I hissed back. “Because you turned your back on me because I refused to be what you wanted me to be. You cut me off because I had the audacity to form my own opinions and thoughts and to pursue my own path. You cut me off because I refused to be controlled.”
“And that worked out well for you, did it?” dad mocked. “Look at you now.”
“You think that’s an insult?” I demanded. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t want to be you. I never wanted to be you. And all the jail time in the world will be worth it if it means I never end up like you.”
I didn’t wait for either one of them to respond. Dad opened his mouth to say something, but I had already turned around and walked away.
2
Zoey
As my hands fluttered across the keys, I didn’t think about the music I wanted to create… I felt it. It was instinct: pure uninhibited instinct rather than planned logical thinking and I wondered if that meant less. Did it still count as talent if you didn’t have to try?
I finished playing and then I wrote it down until I had a melody in front of me. It was still rough, there were a few notes that needed a little added finesse, but I was confident that with a few more workings it would be a playable song.
“Brava,” I heard a voice say behind me, and then there was light clapping.
I turned to see my theory of music professor standing there by the door in his usual tweed blazer. “Professor Parsons,” I said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
“I’m glad; I wouldn’t have wanted to interrupt your work.”
“I was just… playing around with a new song.”
“What was the inspiration behind it?” he asked, as he walked towards me.
“Summer,” I replied. “Or more specifically a goodbye to summer.”
“That’s a good time for it.”
“I agree,” I nodded.
“Well, I’m glad I caught you,” Professor Parsons told me. “I wanted to let you know about this new program we just got clearance for.”
“Oh?” I asked, with interest.
“It’s a trip we’re planning for Christmas. We want our best students to put on a bit of a concert for impoverished kids in Africa and India,” Professor Parsons explained. “We’re giving some of our top students a chance to volunteer.”
“Volunteer?” I asked, catching on quickly
.
“Well the university is not able to fund the whole trip,” Professor Parsons said. “Which is why it’s on a volunteer basis.”
In other words, I would need to pay my way. I felt my heart sink with the knowledge that despite my desire to participate, I would never be able to afford to go to Africa… even on a budget.
“That sounds amazing,” I said quickly, to mask my disappointment. “But I need to see if I can fit this trip into my timetable.”
“It would be great if you could join,” Professor Parsons told me. “This type of thing suits you just right. If you can join, I would really love to have you talk to the kids… explain music to them… possibly even answer their questions. I think it would be amazing… for them and for you.”
I smiled. It did sound wonderful, but I was realistic enough to know that it would never be a reality. I was in my senior year now, and once I had graduated, I would need to move out of student housing. Not only would I have rent to deal with, but I would also have student loans to pay off.