The Confrontation~ Girl With a Dream (working title)

I had been over the dreaded confrontation in my mind a hundred times. I knew what my mom would say. I would state my case passionately, and she would object. She would insist I was making the biggest mistake of my life. She would even be heartbroken, but in the end, she would let me have my way. At least, that’s what I was hoping for.

I had been waiting to catch her in a good mood. It was Saturday morning, and I stood in the doorway between the kitchen and den, studying her. She was sitting at the kitchen table in a faded blue, cotton robe with matching slippers, newspaper folded neatly in front of her. She held her favorite mug in one hand and a black pen in the other. Freshly brewed coffee permeated the air. She was fixated on a crossword puzzle. Dark, tousled locks fell around her shoulders, and sunshine leaked through the open blinds, illuminating her tranquil expression. I summoned all of my courage and cleared my throat to make my presence known. She turned to look at me, and her face lit up with a broad smile.

“Good morning, Baby.”

“Morning, mom,” I replied, helping myself to the coffee. I reluctantly took the seat across from her and gingerly placed my full mug on the table between us. It was now or never.

“Sleep well? You look a little tired.”

“Not really.”

“Oh? Something on your mind?”

“You could say that, ” I said stiffly. I had her full attention now. I felt her gaze grow suspicious but kept my eyes averted.

“What’s going on?”

“I need to talk to you about something, and you’re not going to like it.”

“What is it?” Panic waded just below the¬†surface of concern in her voice. I took a deep breath.

“I want to go to San Francisco,” I muttered.

“What? I didn’t hear…”

I looked up then, my eyes meeting hers, “I want to go to San Francisco.”

I had finally sad it. A huge weight was lifted, but at the same time, a dark wave towered above me, waiting to come crashing down. At first, my mom couldn’t say anything. Shock, confusion, and rage wrestled with the features on her face.

“What are you talking about? ” she asked tentatively.

“I want to move to San Francisco and attend the Academy of Art.”

“Have you lost your mind? Your father and I have worked hard so you can go to a good college. You are not throwing your future away because of some silly dream!”

“It’s not a silly dream, Mom. I want to be an artist, not stuck behind a desk for the rest of my life!”

“It’s absolutely out of the question. You are not going, and that’s final!” She rose abruptly and turned to walk away.

“I already bought my bus ticket. I leave from the Greyhound Station in the morning.”


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