Lean On Me

Chapter 3

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet. As the seconds ticked by, fear and trepidation built up. I took a tiny peek at my domineering father who was flipping through my Preliminary Exam scripts. I'd been delaying this moment as long as I could, but my teachers were going to have a Meet-The-Parent session soon. The only thing that would displease my father more than poor grades is not knowing about it.

His lips were in a firm line and his gaze was hard. Any Tom, Dick or Harry would call it an "unreadable expression", but I was very well acquainted with that look. It's disappointment, one that seemed suppressed from his training as CEO, but it could never escape me. I swallowed hard, counting down the seconds left before he exploded.

Three, two, one, ze-

"This is a disappointing."

Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes, I hung my head low and replied, "I am sorry sir. I tried my best."

Any time now.

"I sent you for tuition! I paid $120 a month for geog, signed you up for that 8 week chemistry bootcamp that cost $100 per session and this is the best you can do? You said you had physics under control but I see a flipping C!" he roared, throwing my papers at me, sending them flying in an uncontrollable cyclone. I flinched, and my lips quivered even though I had expected it. Man, I even counted down to prepare myself.

"What a waste of money," he spat, venom dripping from every word.

He shook his head in disbelief, muttering "2Cs and a B!"

"I got an A in Math," I piped in, but he spun around so quickly making me almost knock backwards and sent such a deadly look, enough to make me wither.

"How about the rest?"

"I nearly got an A in Chemistry," my voice trembled. "69%. Just one little mark,"

Father let out a dry laugh.

"That just means a high B. Borderline. That's all you're gonna be with that attitude of yours," he berated.

That attitude of mine?! What the heck was that supposed to mean? Didn't he know how hard I studied. Maybe it didn't translate into such great grades, but it sure had nothing to do with attitude. Try comparing to half the school population that's on Instagram or illegally clubbing all the time. How about all the dinners with friends that I wasn't allowed to go for? Converted to study time for these papers full of words, that would be returned to us with some grade that would define us forever.

All for nothing. Nothing could please Father.

"I'm sorry, sir," I repeated, a fat wet droplet rolled down my cheek and I hastily brushed it away with the back of my palm.

"Open your practice tracker," Father ordered. I gulped. I hadn't updated it since the test. The next hour went on and Father scolded me for not keeping on task.

After making me chart down all my mistakes and redoing the corrections, he finally got to his feet.

"You're an immature, dependent girl. This is why you can't go for lacrosse."

As I watched him leave, my walls crashed down. He just had to say it. He just had to remind me. Didn't he know how much it hurt? I sobbed uncontrollably, the saltiness of my tears at the top of my mouth, disgusting snot smeared under my nose.

He did. He knew. That's why he did it.

"When will I ever be enough for you?" I croaked, wallowing in self-pity.

****

As I wondered the lonely halls of the mansion, I stumbled upon Aunt Marie sitting peacefully with a cup of tea by the window. At the sound of my footsteps, she seemed to be woken from a trance. She removed her half-moon spectacles and set her little book down, beckoning me to sit next to her. Well aware of my puffy eyes, I reluctantly sank into one of the soft cushions across her.

"Father again?" she whispered. I nodded, looking away,

"You're an extraordinary girl. He just wants you to be better."

I rolled my eyes. Not again.

"He's imposing his own self-expectations on you so that you could be better than him," she reasoned, gesturing for me to take a tea biscuit.

She is the mother of my younger siblings Lila and Martin, whom I loved dearly. But I could never bring myself to grow fond of her. She had a sweet and warm smile, kind eyes, and soothing voice.

But that same smile was what broke my family part. And I could never forgive her, nor my father for what they had done to my mother. Any guilt I felt seeing her still trying to make amends, even after seven years of me pushing her away, is washed out every time I think of how long my mother was forced to cope with sorrow in secret.

"I don't doubt that he loves me and wants me to be successful," I breathed.

"I just... wish that I could make him proud."

"You do make him proud," Aunt Marie chided in disbelief, "Remember your spelling bee contest? The celebratory dinner?"

I clenched my jaw. Was she serious?

"The next day, he didn't talk to me because I didn't get the scholarship."

Aunt Marie blinked and opened her mouth to argue but was cut off by a sharp voice that sliced through the air.

"Stop trying to act like her mom. She already has one."

A wave of relief crashed over me. Aunt Marie abruptly got to her feet, her expression hardened and she left the lounge quicker than lightning. This was the dynamic between our family.

I moved forward to embrace my mother, whispering, "Hi mom. I got 2Cs and 1B."

She pulled away to study my face, brushing strands of my hair and tucking them behind my ear.

"But you got an A?" she asked excitedly. I couldn't help but grin as she pulled me back for another hug.

My mother was beautiful. She always had her hair in a pin, her wavy locks in a spiral pattern. She never wore make up, and her face was of natural beauty. She smelt of eucalyptus. I knew she'd been having a bad episode of migraine over the past few days and had let her rest in tranquility.

I loved that my mother acknowledged my capabilities. Though she knew my weaknesses, she never lost sight of what I was good at, and though she admonishes me for my mistakes, she never forgets me successes.

"Father got angry?" she guessed.

"Nah, he congratulated me and gave me tickets to a cruise trip to the Bermuda Triangle," I joked and she gave me a loving squeeze on my arm. Her chuckles died down and she whispered a bit more seriously, "how are you actually doing?"

"Not that great," I admitted.

"Life sucks sometimes, right?" She sighed, offering me a tea biscuit. This time, I take it. This is what I needed. I was sick of the "he wants the best for you" shit. That's not the point. And my mom got it.

My mom is strong, and I owe her so much. She has so much things to deal with, being the Human Resource manager for my father's company, and yet she invested so much into talking to me. Making sure I was okay. Or not. I know that the only thing keeping her here was me, or she would have left long ago. She didn't want me to have a broken family life. She wanted a strong support system with no disruptions for me. She wanted me to be loved, saying that I deserved to focus on being a teenager, not hectic separation drama.

I chuckle drily, thinking about how ironic it seemed. Nothing could change the fact that this family is broken.

"What's so funny?" my mother asked, eyeing me.

I pushed my painfully honest thought and smiled at her.

"Nothing, I'm just so glad you're here talking to me."