Compositions of Us

18 · The Waltz of the Runaway

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18 · The Waltz of the Runaway 

If it wasn't so hard to ask, I just wanted to spend this Saturday with my mom. 

Even though Mom was helping me get ready for the Father-Daughter dance, something more ideal would be us sitting on the couch, eating the best Chinese take-out, as we watched our favorite movies. 

Mom was working on my hair while I sat on the wooden stool. She lifted my curled hair into a low side bun, leaving a few strands out to frame the outline of my facial structure. Reaching for the blush compact, I did a tinge more on my face than my usual make up routine. Sweeping the rose pink powder across my cheeks, I caught Mom staring at me with smile from the mirror. 

Putting the brush down, I felt a goofy grin stretch on my lips before I asked, "What's so funny?"

Shaking her head, Mom bobby pinned some troublesome strands out of the way. "There's nothing funny, sweetheart. You look beautiful."

"Mom, I'm not even done yet."

Her hazel eyes studied me as if I was some masterpiece by the great Picasso. "Doesn't matter. You're still beautiful."

Suppressing a laugh, I turned around to look at her — not her reflection — and mentioned, "Why didn't they make a Mother-Daughter dance instead?"

She didn't reply but only returned with a heartwarming smile. 

Inside, I knew Mom wanted my dad and me to be on good terms. However, that was easier said than done. To my surprise, my phone hasn't rung yet. Ever since this morning, I expected my dad to call with his typical excuse that he couldn't make it because of businessthat needed to be attended to.

For the past four years, I was never this close to believing that my dad would take me.  

"All set, time for you to put on that dress," Mom broke my train of thought.

Realizing that my hair was all finished, I was more than satisfied with the outcome. 

Mom did a fantastic job styling my hair that I almost didn't recognize myself. My daily hairstyle would be to leave my pin-straight hair down or to tie it up into a ponytail. Admiring the thin gold headband that wrapped around my hair, it added a nice touch to the hairstyle. 

"I love it, Mom. Thank you."

She smiled, patting my shoulders.

It wasn't long before I shimmied into my long, ivory gown and was officially ready for the night.  

Gazing at the clock on my desk, it was nearing 6:30 P.M. which was the time my dad said that he would be coming. As I spent a moment on my phone, there was nothing from my dad. The lack of communication was either a good sign or a bad sign. Unlocking my bedroom door, I made my way to living room to meet Mom.  

The moment she saw me all polished up, her hazel eyes widened in admiration. A proud smile was etched on her face, and I could have sworn I saw her eyes water a little. 

Trying to ease up the atmosphere, I snorted. "You're acting like I'm about to get married." 

As soon as Mom broke out of her staring, she joined in my laughter.  

Moving closer to my side, she placed her arms around me for a hug. My previous tensed muscles soon relaxed, and I smiled from the embrace. As Mom attempted to hide her tears, I became worried by her emotions. She waved it off like it was nothing, but I still pressed on for her to tell me.