Ms. Heartbreaker Meets Mr. Player

Chapter 7: Jennifer | What Is The Truth?

Chapter 7: Jennifer | What Is The Truth?

Title: What Is The Truth?

POV: Jennifer

“There are different types of arts, one is Photography.” Mr. Cavill says. Our Art professor, and unfortunately, my scumbag father. I’m listening because I want to learn, that art is my passion. But I’m not listening because I’d like to hear his voice. No. That won’t happen. Ever. “Do you think Selfie is considered as art? Ah? Louis? Don’t talk, Keana. We’re discussing. Anyone? Ravherse? Okay. Of course, no! Jhile, stop texting. I can see it. Put it in your bag, or I’ll take it. Selfie is not considered as art, you’re just taking a picture of yourself, but you’re not expressing anything. You’re not expressing your feelings, your thoughts. Art is all about expressing feelings. In selfies, you just make a face and then walla. Post in on facebook, twitter, etc. etc.
“As long as you express something, it is considered as art. Photography is the art of creating durable images by light. Photography comes from the Greek roots ‘phōtos’ means ‘light’, and ‘graphé’ means ‘drawing’. So it translates to: Drawing with light.
“Homework!” The students grimace. “Don’t! It’ll be easy. Just take a picture of anything, anything that will express your feeling. Okay? That’s it class. You may go now. Jenny, I need to talk to you. Please. Stay here.”

The students take their things and bags and head out of the classroom, and here I am. My stupid-but-not-stupid father wants to talk to me, for what? I don’t know, and I don’t wanna hear it. Here’s the thing about my dad: He won’t let you go until you give what he wants, and that sucks. He used to say to me, “You’ll always be my princess. I won’t let you go and this family. Okay?” Yeah, right. Princess your face. And his promise? That he won’t let go of our family. What happened to that?
Promises are made to be broken.
Why does he want to talk to me? I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t screw up, did I? I can’t talk to him right now. He’s too much pain in my ass, and it hurts! I look at the window and see the sun, its rays hit windows and it’s gleaming. Pink sky and warm soothing breeze. I want to feel it. Now.
But my father doesn’t want me to. Because he wants to talk to me.
I feel the warm soothing breeze inside the room, and it brushes my skin. Giving me a peaceful feeling. For a moment, I am me. I am myself. I am the way I used to be. The girl that is smiling over simple things, simple events. Playing boyish things with my brother. Stop it. You’re a girl, not a boy. My mom used to say to me whenever I play boy things with my brother, Nathan.
I miss him so much. And mom.
I can’t quite read my dad’s face. Like, he wants to tell my something but just can’t, that if he did, everything will be ruined. Everything will be destroyed. I try to look at my father’s face, and see his gray eyes, and I wonder if this man is my father. The father that left us. I’d like to ask him why. But I reminded myself: No. But I want to. I’d like to ask these questions:
Why’d you left us?
Have you had another woman in your life?
Why did you break your promise?
Why didn’t you confront mom?
Why didn’t you do anything to fix this family? Our family?
My questions that are unanswered, only my dad that can answer these. My other self, the naïve side, wants me to be with him. To be with my dad.
I remember the days when he lifted my up the sky, that it felt like I was flying with birds. Giggling. Nathaniel was so young he needed the baby walker, unleashed his super cute baby giggle. Mom was frying some spams while looking at us through the window. It was summer that time. The sun was too bright that I needed to cover my eyes. My blonde hair was bobbing whenever my dad threw me up in the sky. Mom gave my dad a cautious look that meant: Stop it, the kid might fall! And my dad just shrugged. We walked in the house and Nathan raised his hands that meant: Lift me! Lift me! Dad picked him up out of the baby walker and lifted him. My brother just giggled, because he couldn’t speak at that time. I clang onto his jeans and laughed.
Mom prepared our snack and I grabbed the bread but Mom shook her head. Dad led the prayer and grabbed the bread and cut it in half. He put the spam in it and gave it to me. I curtsied and he laughed and I grabbed the bread out of his hand.