Word of Honor

Chapter One: Retrospect

There is a phrase that I had been forbidden to say. Honestly, every word contains foreboding and exaggeration. It all began at home, when my stomach growled and roared, reminding myself frantically that I had a lack of food and had to be fed this instant. Closing my eyes, the image of a fluffy baked brownie appeared in my sight.

'Mom, I'm starving!' I tell Mom I had an urgent need, or craving for food when I was younger.

Indeedly, I was clumsy before. Mom reminded me quite a few times of the necessity to talk my whole mind out with everyone I had met. That was false by now.

Mom raises her eyebrows after the statement. She has responded to me, that I will never, ever starve as long as I am on Mom's watch, and now I am hungry. I abandoned the phrase 'I'm starving!' ever since. And, of course, it is very unlikely to happen. Mom is very particular in words.

Sure enough, my parents have the ability to pay for necessary needs. They would buy me something brand new if the previous one was tattered. For instance, my first possession ever, a tiny mocha brown woolen teddy bear with a rose-colored, pointed hat. I had played with it quite overly often that it became a bit torn as a matter of fact. Even though it was challenging to unearth its trace in the market, my parents managed to. For now, I do not have to worry about survival and basic demands. I was afraid we would go bankrupt and over budget over time, purchasing luxury things like bags and many snacks, though they proved that I was wrong.

Whenever I ask curious questions about my parent's work, they do not reach the topic somehow.

'How come you and Dad never answer my questions about work? Is that so mysterious that you won't even dare to sort it out with your daughter? We scarcely shared our weekdays with each other! Please.' I tell my parents out of rage, fighting to overcome the rising temper inside of me.

'Oh dear,' Mom begins. 'We'd love to tell you if we could and share feelings as a parent-child interaction, however, I reckon it's quite more complicated than you think...'

Subconsciously, I purse my lips in exasperation. Why would they not just speak up so I could understand what is complicated? It would not hurt to talk about merely work, which is not a huge deal!

'It is unfortunate to say this to you, this is a private matter between your mother and I.' chime in Dad's voice, answering my question apace, as though reading my mind specifically.

'I-I...' I stutter intuitively.

No word could describe how irritated I am at this moment. I long for divulging their complex work, nevertheless, it is excessively difficult for me to be aware of. However, I would never attain what exactly is complicated. Terms are spinning in my head apace, and I stood there, zoning out.

This conversation made me immensely inquisitive about what they concentrate on in the daytime. How do they strive for money exactly? They always wore darkening colors for work: Mom always wore her pearl mouse gray coat while Dad brought his sapphire blue zipping jacket.

'Mom, you aren't setting off to work if you don't tell me where it is!' I say with a teasing tone, blocking their path.

But Mom merely looked at me with a determined glance and said no more.

'Charmi, now's not the time to joke around.' Dad says firmly and seriously with his brows furrowed into a straight line.

'What's the matter? Why so earnest all of a sudden? Didn't we have a good time at breakfast earlier?' I ask nervously, clenching my sleeves.

'Charmi.' Mom inclines her head with inflated alertness. 'This is work we're talking about, not some warm family greeting.'

Stunned, I pace back, offering my parents a clear way to the door.