A different path
The fact that my mother used my full name was proof that I was in trouble: only when I was scolded did they call me that.
I left the luggage unfinished and went to my parents' room. Dad was on the phone and signaled me to wait. I sat on the bed, but after fifteen minutes, Dad was still talking, so I decided to go back to my room to continue packing and come back in a few minutes.
And so I did: I finished packing my suitcase and went back to my parents' room. At that moment they were both watching TV and they didn't take their eyes off the screen when I asked what was going on:
"Nothing," was Dad's sparing reply. Without looking beneath that word, I turned around and went back to my room. The next day I would be traveling with my boyfriend to Merida and I had to wake up early, so I went to bed to sleep.
"My parents were strange," I confessed to my boyfriend who was riding next to me.
"They are probably worried about you. It's your first trip so far away, without them and they must be worried about what might happen," my boyfriend answered trying to calm me down, "What you should do is call them as soon as we arrive so they can calm down.
I nodded my head and tried not to let my father's face, serious, dour, self-absorbed, accompany me on that journey, so I quickly laid my eyes on the transparent glass of the bus: the landscape was a multicolored sheet of uneven vegetation. I was spellbound, fascinated by the miracle of nature. Quickly, thoughts of anguish were left behind.
Arriving at our destination, no matter how tired I was, I went down to the hotel reception to call my family.
"Hello, Mom, we're here, thank God!" -was my greeting when I heard my mother's voice on the other end of the phone.
"That's good," was my mother's gruff reply. Even though I was far away, I could feel the coldness of those words.
"There, more or less," I heard and feared that Dad was ill.
"What do you mean? Is something wrong?" -My words came out in a rush.
"There's nothing wrong with your dad. What if there was? What could you do if you're 24 hours away? Stay calm. Enjoy your trip," these last words had a different tone, but I tried to divert the conversation. I told her about the scenery, the people, the hotel. Even though I was 23 years old, it was the first time I had traveled so far. In the face of my overflowing enthusiasm, my mother's words seemed like fish hanging in the sun: strange, out of place, intemperate. I talked to her for another few minutes and then hung up with the promise that I would call them twice a day for the duration of my trip.
And so it was: I called them in the morning and at night. Each time the words were monosyllables, blocks of ice, a knife that deepened the distance. However, even so, I didn't stop calling them and I didn't let it interfere with my trip. This trip, so important to me, was my first after graduation. I had already been working for a year, so I deserved that incredible vacation.
"I want you to get married!"
He said it just like that, without anesthesia. It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order.
I stood there with my mouth open and I infer that I turned pale. That was the reason why my parents were upset. I turned to look at my mother. She was looking at her hands and her face was down. Dad was looking at me straight ahead, as only a parent looks at a child: from an authority that allows no disrespect.
My parents had not overcome that romantic and terrible idea that a woman should be a saint, a maiden, pure and virginal, and thus reach the altar. My two sisters had married young and my father, at that moment, was pressuring me to do the same. Bravely, I took his hands and spoke to him:
"Old man, excuse me. But I believe that marriage is a decision that cannot be taken lightly and in any case, I should be the one to make the decision to marry. If you want me to leave home, I will go, but I am not going to marry, just because you want me to, just at this moment when the world has unfolded before my eyes and I am hungry to know it".
My father nodded and for the first time, I will never forget, Dad saw me as an adult sees another adult: with respect. He knew that I had stopped looking at life from impossible desires and had begun to walk a different path than the women in my family had walked.
All images are free of charge and the text is my own, translated in Deepl
Thank you for reading and commenting. Until a future reading, friends
Click here to read in spanish
Un camino diferente
Estaba haciendo el equipaje, cuando mi madre se asomó a la habitación y me llamó por mi nombre completo:
_Señorita Nancy del Carmen, tu papá quiere hablar contigo –dijo e inmediatamente desapareció sin esperar respuesta.
El hecho de que mi madre utilizara mi nombre completo era prueba de que yo estaba en problemas: solo cuando me regañaban me llamaban así.
Dejé el equipaje sin terminar y fui para la habitación de mis padres. Papá estaba hablando por teléfono y me hizo una señal de que aguardara. Me senté en la cama, pero a los quince minutos, papá seguía hablando, por lo que decidí volver a mi habitación para seguir haciendo el equipaje y volver en unos minutos.
Y así hice: terminé de hacer mi maleta y regresé al cuarto de mis padres. En ese instante los dos miraban la televisión y no despegaron la vista de la pantalla cuando pregunté qué ocurría:
_Nada –fue la respuesta parca de papá. Sin buscar debajo de aquella palabra, me di la vuelta y volví a mi habitación. Al día siguiente viajaría con mi novio a Mérida y tenía que despertarme temprano, así que me acosté a dormir.
Nada más iniciarse el viaje, me sentí incómoda cuando recordé el rostro de mis padres cuando me despedí de ellos.
_Mis padres estaban extraños –le confesé a mi novio quien iba a mi lado.
_Seguramente están preocupados por ti. Es tu primer viaje tan lejos, sin ellos y deben estar preocupados por lo que puede ocurrir –me respondió mi novio intentando calmarme- Lo que debes hacer es llamarlos inmediatamente que lleguemos para que se tranquilicen.
Asentí con la cabeza e intenté que el rostro de mi padre, serio, adusto, ensimismado, no me acompañara en aquella travesía, por lo que rápidamente posé mis ojos en el vidrio transparente del autobús: el paisaje era una sábana multicolor, de vegetaciones desiguales. Me quedé embobada, fascinada ante el milagro de la naturaleza. Rápidamente, los pensamientos de angustia quedaron atrás.
Al llegar a nuestro destino, sin importar que estaba cansada, bajé a la recepción del hotel para llamar a mi familia.
_¡Aló, mamá, ya llegamos, gracias a Dios! –fue mi saludo al escuchar la voz de mi madre al otro lado del teléfono.
_Qué bueno –fue la respuesta desabrida de mi madre. A pesar de que estaba lejos, podía sentir la frialdad de aquellas palabras.
_¿Cómo está papá? –pregunté con interés.
_Ahí, más o menos -escuché y temí que papá estuviera enfermo.
_¿Cómo así? ¿Le pasa algo? -Mis palabras salieron atropelladas.
_Tú papá no tiene nada. ¿Y si tuviera algo? ¿Qué podrías hacer si estás a 24 horas de aquí? Quédate tranquila. Disfruta tu viaje –estas últimas palabras tuvieron un tono diferente, pero intenté desviar la conversación. Le conté lo del paisaje, la gente, el hotel. A pesar de que tenía 23 años, era la primera vez que viajaba tan lejos. Ante mi entusiasmo desbordante, las palabras de mi madre parecían peces colgados al sol: extrañas, fuera de lugar, destempladas. Hablé con ella otros minutos más y luego colgué con la promesa de que los llamaría dos veces al día mientras durara mi viaje.
Y así fue: los llamaba en la mañana y en la noche. En cada oportunidad las palabras eran monosílabos, bloques de hielo, un navajazo que profundizaba la distancia. Sin embargo, aun así, no dejé de llamarlos y tampoco permití que aquello interfiriera con mi viaje. Aquel viaje, tan importante para mí, era el primero que hacía después de graduarme. Ya tenía un año trabajando por lo que merecía aquellas increíbles vacaciones.
A los quince días regresé a mi casa cargada de regalos y con los deseos más genuinos de abrazar a mis padres. Solo cuando los vi, tuve la certeza de lo mucho que los había extrañado. Sin embargo, papá estaba nervioso. Lo noté al abrazarlo. Luego de hablar un rato y como si algo dentro de él amenazara con romperle el pecho, papá dijo:
_¡Quiero que te cases!
Lo dijo así, sin anestesia. No era una sugerencia, era una orden.
Yo me quedé con la boca abierta e infiero que me puse pálida. Era esa la razón por la que mis padres estaban molestos. Voltee a ver a mi madre. Ella miraba sus manos y tenía la cara baja. Papá me miraba de frente, como solo un padre mira a un hijo: desde una autoridad que no permite irrespeto.
Mis padres no habían superado aquella idea romántica y terrible de que la mujer debe ser una santa, una doncella, pura y virginal, y así llegar al altar. Mis dos hermanas se habían casado jóvenes y mi padre, en ese instante, me presionaba para que yo hiciera lo mismo. Con valentía, tomé las manos de él y le hablé:
_Viejo, discúlpame. Pero creo que el matrimonio es una decisión que no se puede tomar a la ligera y en todo caso, debo ser yo la que debe tomar la decisión de casarse. Si quieres que me vaya de la casa, me iré, pero no voy a contraer matrimonio, solo porque tú quieras, justamente en este momento que el mundo se ha desplegado ante mis ojos y yo estoy hambrienta de conocerlo.
Mi padre asintió con la cabeza y por primera vez, nunca lo olvidaré, papá me vio como un adulto ve a otro adulto: con respeto. Sabía que yo había dejado de ver la vida desde los deseos imposibles y había comenzado a transitar un camino diferente al que habían caminado las mujeres de mi familia.
What a story! I guess today most traditionalist parents will have similar embarrassing situations. Of course, our protagonist acted with respectable firmness, for better or worse. Adulthood means taking responsibility for one's decisions. And she did.
Great story.
Sometimes it is difficult, especially if you are a woman, to make people understand that marriage is not a dream. It is to travel, to study, to see the world. Greetings, my friend.
Parents are always aware of their children from their thoughts, some with the customs of the past. Apparently in this modern era parents have adapted to new social situations. Luckily, your father accepted your thoughts and respected your decision.
Thanks for sharing your experience with us.
An excellent day.
Yes, I am grateful to have understanding parents, but I have also earned their respect. Greetings and a good day to you
Grateful for your support, friends! Many successes
You set up the tension in this piece nicely, and held our attention to the end as we waited to find out why your father was so upset. It all made complete sense. I'm glad that your father was able to let go and appreciate that you were now an adult in your own right. You handled his angst with compassion, while asserting yourself as an adult independent woman.
Thank you for sharing a story from your life with The Ink Well.
I believe that having always acted responsibly and honestly with my parents made them respect my decisions. That is a good thing. Thank you very much for your comments. I appreciate it very much. Regards
I love that you took a bold step to let him know how you feel. Kudos
There are many expectations that parents have towards their children. Holding on to traditions is one of those. I imagine the pressure is particularly strong towards women. But times change and a new path must be forged, as you demonstrated. This is a good interpretation of the prompt and uses the appropriate fiction techniques. Well done!
I think your parents were worried about the possibility of keeping yourself intact, in the traditional sense, until the wedding.
Their worry started when the long journey was about you and your boyfriend. They might have imagined many things. But then, marriage is something so personal that one should be convincingly ready for it before venturing into it.
It's good that your dad understood at last.