dreamglow

27

Jungkook

April 7, 2019

It's Sunday morning, and a rare sight of  my father welcomes me when I walk into the kitchen. We don't say anything, probably out of habit, but the awkwardness in the room isn't as suffocating as it would have been two weeks ago.

The last week was nothing, but a fight of two teams - me, Cindy and my dad versus my mom. It took a lot of mental strength, and their support, to keep standing up for myself. And while my mom is still not the happiest about my choices, my dad is trying to repair the damage.

"Want some coffee?" he asks as I click the cereal bag closed again. Glancing at him over my shoulder, he flips the newspaper. He may be the only person I know who still reads them.

"No, thanks. I don't like coffee," I say, searching for a clean spoon.

"Really?" his voice is higher. I can't blame him for not knowing anything about me. I've been purposely distant for the past four years. "What do you drink then?"

I chuckle. I'm not sure why. I'm still not used to normal interactions with my parents. My dad kind of brushed the past four years under the carpet. He apologized for not helping me and indirectly tries to make up for it. It's not magically fixing the last four years, but they don't hang in between us as heavily anymore.

I sit at the table with my cereal and almond milk. I'd never drink it if it wasn't for Cindy. "Water. And energy drinks."

He looks at me from behind his glasses, and after a few moments put the newspaper away. He gives a nod of approval. "As long as it has caffeine, it's fine."

The milk pours in, soon followed by the crunching sound. My dad intertwines his fingers on the surface of the table and looks at them, thinking about something. I wait. It's nine on a Sunday morning, but if he has something to add to our previous two 'serious conversations', I won't stop him. I can see him trying, unlike my mom, and if I can have at least one parent back, I will be happy.

"How is your... song making going?" he asks, hesitantly looking at me. I swallow, and drop my eyes to the bowl as my lips curve a little. At the way he says 'song making', but also because he asked.

"Pretty well. I've had a bunch of cool ideas last night."

"Yeah, I've heard you up late," he says, followed by a chuckle. I've heard him too, watching some football game until two. I thought about joining, as a way of bonding, but I got too immersed into a song about Cindy until sleep knocked me out. "I was... I was surprised that you gave up so easily."

"What do you mean?" I ask. 

He sighs, eyes sweeping around the room. "The first time you told us you want to sing."

So it is about to get serious. I demolish my cereal as fast as I can so that the crunching sound doesn't crush the atmosphere.

"Not like I had anything to say when I was fourteen," I say with an awkward chuckle. For some reason I can't hold back around him anymore. If something about him, or us, weights me down, I just spit it out. It takes two sides to fix the damage.

"Your mother... she likes it her own way," he mumbles, nodding to himself. I've already noticed that, but him confirming it hurts a bit more. It's just a nice way of saying your mother doesn't care about your feelings. "But I always knew you wouldn't be a scientist. You hate studying. Or at least you hated in elementary school." He sighs, making me laugh under my breath.

"Some things don't change."

He smiles, but doesn't look at me. The air around him is filled with so much guilt that I can almost see it. He knew from the start I wouldn't be a scientist, but he had no power against my mom.

"I... I'm sorry that I always stood in the back and... never actually helped you."

"It's fine," I say, eyes locked on a pointless spot on the table. Million thoughts rush through my head like it's a highway, and I'm trying to pick a proper reaction. I don't really know how I feel about it. He could try and help me, but at the same time I know how my mom is. She 'wears the pants' in their duo. Maybe he didn't have a saying in this, either. Maybe he even tried. That's what I like to think. He tried behind the scenes, but failed against my mom. "I mean... it would surely be nice, but... if you helped me, I probably wouldn't meet-" I cut myself off. I'm about to mention Cindy, but for some reason I've been avoiding that topic. I've lost my cringy teenage conversations with parents about first loves and crushes. I don't know how to talk about it.

"You wouldn't meet...?" he asks, rising his eyebrows. His only interaction with Cindy, besides that awkward dinner a few months ago, was when she almost fought my mom. He knows we have a thing going on, and I'm sure he's curious.

"Cindy," I mumble.

"How are you two doing?" he asks, pretty casually, but I can't hold back a grin. Because we're doing fucking amazing, and the thought of it tickles my heart. My dad laughs warmly. "I think you're doing well."

"I'm going to ask her out today."

"Aren't you a couple already?" he asks. The kitchen suddenly turns into a working oven.

"We are, but... I've never officially asked her out. I just... want to feel like a normal teenager, I guess," I say, chuckling to let go of the tension my body is holding onto. I honestly want to throw myself onto my bed and kick the air as I giggle to myself, but my dad's presence brings me down to Earth a little.

"She's... an interesting girl," he says with a smile, probably recalling her fight with my mom. "And you look good together."

"We do?" I chuckle, glancing up at him. It's as awkward as a son's love-focused conversation with his father can get. But we laugh it off, both aware of how strange it is to talk about it. She's the first person I've ever liked, and it's the first time I get to be interviewed by my dad about it. Almost like the past four years never happened. "I think it's a talk for another day," I say, fidgeting in my seat.

He agrees with a chortle, and silences it with a sip of his coffee. We don't really talk anymore, having reached the limit of seriousness for a Sunday morning. There is a lot more to say, and even more unresolved feelings to walk through. But even taking those baby steps is enough for me to make my body loosen up a little, and for my mind to be at ease around my dad.