A Parent's Decision

A Parent's Choice

Although his decision was already made, Cody could not help himself from considering the "what ifs' of his potential future. Setting across the 50s' style dinner table, his father was looking over the syrup covered menu. "Why can they not clean these things?," he frustratingly sighed under his breath. Cody began fidgeting with the string on his grey hoodie, this beloved hoodie was a final parting gift from his mother, who had left him and his father two years prior.

"Cody," his father said, "I'm really happy you decided to follow in my foot-steps, by joining the family business." The family business was a traditional Italian pizza restaurant, titled coincidentally, 'Pop and Son's Pizzeria.' "Dad about that," Cody slowly began to say, then was cut off by his father once again boasting to the waiter about 'how proud he is of his son finally becoming a pizza chef, just like him!'

Cody, in defeat, remained silent. Although he was happy his father was proud of him. Cody knew he did not want to be a cook, did not want to be like his father or his grandfather or great-grandfather, who were all pizza chefs. No, he wanted to sing. He wanted to star on 'Broadway,' singing and dancing to his heart's content. Bringing joy to young children, like the shows had done for him, when he was a boy. His mother was the one who introduced him into theater, by bringing him to a local production of "The Nutcracker." After that wonderful night, seeing all the performers sing and dance, he leapt to every chance he could to see any productions or performances, he could. His heart yearned for the stage, to be on stage, to give a performance of a lifetime, to be an artist, to be a star.

Entranced in his daydreams of performing, he could not see his father beaming like a child on Christmas morning. "I will teach you everything I know, everything dad taught me, and everything grand-dad taught him," he said in almost a sing-song like manner. This snatched Cody away from his dreams of the potential future.

Cody just stared at his dad, as if it was the first time he had seen this old man. A man with white thread like hair combed over his obvious bald spot. Wrinkles around his mouth and moles where they were not before. Cody remembers his dad when he was a kid, a tall strong man with a full head of jet black hair, with a huge heart, full of love for food and his family. Now, sat before him was a man, almost like a shell of what he once was. A broken man, but still hopeful.

"Cody," he said with a sigh, "I saw the letter. I know you don't want to work at the shop." Taken aback, Cody furrowed his eyebrows. "I know you better than you think kid." "Pop, I'm..," Cody said hoarsely. "Don't be," he said defeated, "I thought bringing you back to your favorite breakfast spot could make you want to stay, but I now see you are not going to cave that easily. I think I've always known I was going to have to let you go one day, but you're all I have left, so it makes it harder." "Thank you," Cody said almost in a whimper. "No thank you! You've shown me that I've not raised a quitter. I've raised a brave young man, who goes after what he wants whole heartedly, without looking back." Pop said once again boastful. "You will send me a ticket for your first performance, won't you?" Now as if Pop was embarrassed he had to ask such a thing. "Front row." Cody said as if his heart was about to explode from the excitement and relief of today's events.

"How about we celebrate with a 'two shots vanilla malt?'" Pop asked, almost matching Cody's excitement. "You know I cannot resist getting one of those! Of course!" Cody said excitedly. "I know, kid," Pop said, "I know."