Behind Our Masks

Chapter 12: A Mother's Love

Penny

"Alright, I'll be back in a bit!" My roommate called behind his shoulder.
"Don't wait up!"

"Mm-hm. Stay safe, stud."

"Ha, always. See ya!"

With that, he shut the door, leaving the dirt cheap house silent once again.

I turned back to my writing with a contented sigh. These past weeks with Daniel had been among the most pleasant I'd ever had. It was refreshing and- dare I say- fun to have a friend that I could open up to and chat with. I'd only come along with him out of a sense of duty and a touch of curiosity, but now... it was something more. Maybe, deep down, I'd been looking for someone like Daniel, someone to understand my struggle and help me heal.
I still hadn't told him much, of course; all he really knew was that I and the family I once had hailed from China.

It helped to talk a little bit about them, even if I wasn't quite ready to reveal the circumstances around their loss. They were an eclectic bunch, each with their own talents and eccentricities that made them who they were and gave our family it's lovable brand of crazy.

My mother was a gymnast turned acrobat, hailing from Britain. She'd been performing in Cirque Du Soleil as part of a contortionist act when she met my father, who was a tourist at the time. He was twenty-one, and she was twenty.

My father was a Shaolin monk, if you can believe it. Or at least, he was studying to be one; he'd been raised in the monastery, and had nearly attained the rank of master before he abdicated to travel the world. He was a very gifted boy from the start, mastering Shaolin Monkey Style by the age of ten and moving on to Tiger and Boar by age fifteen. By his twentieth year, he'd conquered the Dragon, Crane, Rat, and Leopard... but never Cobra. It never came as naturally to him as it did to me.

They never married. My father said they were too busy with more important things and never got around to it. Their lives were whirlwinds from the moment they met, he said, fast and filled with joy; they never needed ceremony when their souls were so happily bound.

My sister grew up to be a dancer, of all things. She was a free spirit, a performer and a star, entertaining audiences with her frontline roles in Ballets, musicals, and even music videos.
Teaching was her truest love, though. So, when she was twenty-two, she naturally opened her very own studio to begin giving her love back to the world.

It was a marvelous place, a palace of creativity and freedom. Hip-hop, jazz, ballet, tap dancing, free form and lyrical, my sister did it all, dancing nearly nine hours a day with her whole soul in every step. My parents moved in and soon became instructors themselves, adding different styles and variations of gymnastics, yoga, tai-chi, and kung-fu to the list of available classes. My father even taught with weapons for those who were brave enough to try.

By the time I was born, the business was in full swing.

My mother told me once that I was their 'adorable oopsie,' that I was a surprise blessing that she thought she'd never see. She was previously thought to be infertile, so they adopted my sister off the streets of Japan at age eight and hadn't expected to have another child. Both my sister and parents were understandably shocked, but ecstatic nonetheless, each taking their part in teaching me everything they knew.

My earliest memories were of the happy days I spent in that castle. I was surrounded by movement and motion day in and day out, never bored for a moment.

I loved it so much that I became a veritable escape artist in kindergarten, always sneaking back home to watch our classes. Eventually I was homeschooled.
They discovered my talent for memory through watching me learn, and soon found out that this gift wasn't exclusive to academics. My propensity for mimicry extended to the whole of my body, giving me the ability to emulate any move or sequence after seeing it once; sign language, braille, morse code, and other languages came just as quickly.