This day is surprising from the very morning. My mom is furious for some reason unknown to me, my dad is frowning more than usual, and in the entire house, there is an atmosphere like one of them could not stand it now and pounce on someone. I almost always play the role of the latter. And mom loves to pounce. Dad usually reads the newspaper, sideways glancing at us, and is silent. Honestly, his silence is the worst in the world: it penetrates like a poison under my skin, spreads all over my body, and slowly kills. It would be better if he shouted too or something like that. Just not the unsteady silence that breaks when my mom hits me. My cheek burns the same as always. I even get used to this unpleasant pain. Then I calmly cover it with foundation. No one has any idea why I do not want to go home so much. Father's silence gives hope and takes it away at the same time. It always seems to me that just about, just a little more, and he will reach his boiling point and tell mom she needs to stop hitting me for a little thing, or, on the contrary, he will grab my hair and add.
But today, I don't get the daily slap in the face. Moreover, my mother is stubbornly silent throughout breakfast. Dad doesn't say a word either. This morning differs from all the others. Because I don't know what to expect. Usually, my mom lectures me on how hard I need to practice to win a dance competition at the end of the year. I nod obediently, but I think to myself about something else: I learned not to listen to her long ago because she still repeats the same thing. Then I do something wrong (according to my mom) and get a hit. However, today at home is so quiet. I dislike it when everything does not go according to the usual pattern.
The only thing that still does not change today is that mom leaves before dad. Thank God. I like morning only for this reason - it's easier to breathe with dad. It immediately seems that I am not nailed to the chair to give a voice finally. But I rarely talk to him because I want to understand whose side he is on. Usually, if he suddenly speaks to me after mom leaves, I conclude I can still hope for something. But there are days when he does not look away from the newspaper, and then it seems that there is no one on my side in this house.
"Something happened?" I dared to ask.
"No, why did you think so?"
"It seems like mom is not in the mood."
"Does she ever get in the mood?" Dad chuckled, sipping his tea. His answer surprised me, but I kept silent. "At work, someone does not have time to meet the deadline, so she is mad."
I nodded, showing him that I got it. It is strange that, in that case, she did not pounce on me.
"I will wait for you in the car," he said and left home.
Another plus of my morning is that dad usually gives me a lift. I can turn on any song with him, open a window, and even stick out my hand. In front of mom, I sit as if I had swallowed a needle.
I hurriedly packed up and went out into the street. My favorite songs were already playing in the salon, and I smiled gratefully at my father. After all, I don't understand him. But I prefer not to think about it anymore.
Dad is heading to the most prestigious university in the center of Seoul. Mom can't let me study in the usual place. We are a wealthy family, so she goes out of her way to show this to everyone. I hated her when she made me go dancing, but I fell in love with this over time because dancing helps. Mom is just trying to prove to everyone how capable and well-mannered I am. By the way, if we talk about the latter: she controls me to I wasn't in a company of problematic guys and allows communicating only with those from a wealthy family. As if money is the key thing in this life.
I sighed, removing these thoughts from my mind. Dad suddenly is slowing down sharply, and I almost bumped my nose into the glove compartment.
"What is wrong with him? He drives too fast!" dad is looking angrily in my direction, and I don't immediately understand that his gaze is directing to the window.
