Behind the Books | ✔

06. Pressure

ELIAS

WORKING AT A restaurant isn't the easiest job.

Believe me, it isn't. I've been working at one for a year now and I've witnessed and dealt with plenty of angry customers. I'm only a crew member—which is someone who takes orders, processes payments, and prepares food. I mostly only take orders and process payments, but working at a fast food restaurant is quite a job.

And unfortunately, I'm going to work today.

The only reason I have it is so I can pay for all the art supplies I want. My parents don't give me money to buy art supplies, mainly because they think it's pointless and stuff. I don't mind paying for things on my own, especially since I'm seventeen and going to turn eighteen soon. It's just that my parents don't see how being an artist is the only thing I want to be when I am older.

I've heard them say those words a million times, and I don't want to hear it ever again.

I picked up my aged sketchpad and pencil from my desk and hugged them against my chest with one hand, while the other grabbed my backpack from the floor. My work uniform is already on, so I'm good to go. Before I left my room, I took one last look at it.

The three paintings I painted not too long ago highlighted the beige color of the walls. One painting was one of me, the second one was Mom, Dad, and I together, and the third one was of Cannon and I. They haven't seen the paintings just yet, but when they do, I wonder what their reaction will be.

I walked out the door and headed towards the stairs. After successfully climbing down each step, I headed towards the living room. Mom and Dad were on the couch watching some type of movie on the flat-screen TV. 

"I'm going to work now. See you in a few hours," I proclaimed, gripping my sketchbook tightly.

"Okay," Mom glimpsed at me with a smile.

"See you later, son," Dad added. "Also, we saw the paintings in your room today when you went to school. We're very impressed."

My face lit up as my mouth dropped open. Trying to impress my parents with my art has been what I wanted to do for so long. But to not keep my hopes up too much, what if they're not impressed enough? What if they still think that I shouldn't become an artist?

"Since you're impressed, do you think that I'd become a great artist when I'm older?" I questioned as I clutched my fingers nervously.

At this point, who knows what their answer will be. I'm too terrified to know the answer to the point where my spine is sort of starting to chill.

"I don't know, Elias. It's just that in the future, you need to get a good job that pays well," Dad replied.

"But what if I don't enjoy doing a job that pays well?" I asked, stuffing my sketchbook into my backpack.

"Life isn't about enjoying things, unfortunately. You have to work very hard once you're an adult. Being something big when you're older will help you," Mom stated. "Being an artist won't guarantee you making a decent amount of money to put a roof over your head."

I've heard these words a million times already. If not, a billion. Maybe they're right when it comes to certain things they say. In the end, all I want is to do is become an artist full time. It may not guarantee to get me enough money to have a roof over my head, but I can always learn.

By the time senior year is over, I'll major in visual arts when college rolls around. The college I'll be going to—R. L. Laurier University—which isn't too far from where I am. Originally, I wanted to go to an art school, but my parents unsurprisingly won't pay for it. But that's fine, I guess. I can still do decent at Laurier.