My father was the person that introduced me to the violin.
My father played music on the side whenever he wasn’t on a busines trip of some sorts. Back in the UK, I used to stare at him play the violin through the screen door leading out to our backyard. The sound of the wind gliding through the trees and the high-pitched chords he used to play always fascinated me as a child. One day, my father noticed me sitting by the door watching him. He smiled as he opened the screen door and picked me up from the ground.
“You’ve been watching papa play this entire time?” he asked me, smile on his face. I nodded my head, pointing at the violin on the patio table. He placed me on his lap as he grabbed the violin, allowing me to touch it. I touched the strings of the violin gently, amazed on how thin they felt on my tiny fingers. “Let me teach you a note.”
…
I sat in my bedroom with my violin on my bed. The case is buckled close. I was frozen in place, just staring at the violin case. The rain was coming down pretty hard today, which was expected for weather in the Spring. I sighed loudly before getting up from the bed, walking toward the window to close it shut. It was now completely silent in my room; not even the sound of rain was present.
It rained the night I heard the front door loudly being knocked on. I got out from my bed, scared for my life. We had only been in America for three months and I was afraid that something had happened, like deportation or something along those lines. I quietly walked out of my bedroom door, slowly walking toward the end of the hall to look downstairs. I don’t see much of what was happening, but there were at least a dozen officers near the front door. Of course, all I could see is my father being handcuffed. All I could hear is my mum asking a million questions to the man in the suit.
I hear a knock on my bedroom door, which makes me turn around. My mum walked in, poking her head in between the doorframe.
“Soojin,” she said softly. I don’t say anything back. She sighed before she walks into my room completely. “Do you want some ramyeon for lunch?”
“I’m not hungry,” I said, not looking at her.
“You haven’t eaten more than kimbap in the last day,” she recalled. “You have to eat something.”
“I’m not hungry!” I turned around and yelled at my mom. Her eyes widen, obviously shocked about me talking back to her.
“Ya, watch your tone when speaking to me,” my mum said stern, letting this one time slide. “I know you’re upset about your father–“
“No,” I corrected. “I’m upset at my father…”
“You shouldn’t be too hard on him,” she insisted.
“Why not? He made these choices! He has to live with them!”
“Soojin, it’s not that simple,” my mum tried to explain. “Everyone has to fight their inner battles–“
“Going to jail for five years wasn’t a choice?” I argued back. “Committing a crime wasn’t a choice that he made?”
“You do not know the entire story,” my mum responded, now getting upset with me. I didn’t care anymore about how she felt or what she wanted me to feel regarding my father. I was getting older, which meant I was able to understand things and have my own opinion on situations, especially the ones your parents tried to influence you towards. “You mean the world to him, Soojin–“
“He left me, mum!” I yelled again. “He wasn’t thinking about me when he decided to do the things he did! He wasn’t considering how this would affect me growing up, or how he wouldn’t be there for my graduations! Showcases! Birthdays! Nothing!” I was on the verge of crying now. “I should not feel bad for a person who actively made those decisions, and then made the decision to make us feel sorry for him by trying to end his life in jail!”
That’s enough!” my mum yelled back at me. “He needs us the most right now, and if he were to find out that you said all of these things or haven’t forgiven him for what he’s done, he would feel absolutely terrible.”
“I don’t care,” I spat out, aggressive as each word left my mouth. “I don’t forgive him, and this stunt he pulled off doesn’t change anything.” I turned back around to face my window; the rain hitting against the glass even harder now. I wanted to come off as this strong girl, holding people accountable for their actions when they should be. But he’s my father. He was my entire world. He was my inspiration, my muse.
My mum didn’t say anything after that. All I heard was the bedroom door slammed shut. This is the start of it all: permanent daddy issues.
…
It was weird to go back to school after being away for a week. Life continued without me being at Waverly; other classmates roam the halls with their friends and chatting among each other, going to their next classes in between the bell time. I felt frozen in time; my mind and body were still stuck in time from two weeks ago, especially after walking past the main office. My next class of the day was the class I was dreading the most; band. I had no desire to play the violin today as it did nothing but remind me of my father, back in the UK, playing out in the backyard.
I entered the class and went straight to my seat. I took out my binder with my sheet music in it, placing it on the music stand in front of me. I turned my head around to look at the back of the room, and to my surprise Milo wasn’t there. Maybe he’s sick? Maybe he’s absent today or something? I turned forward and bent forward to take my violin out of its case.
“Hey,” I hear someone talk in my direction. I looked up to see it was Aaron Serrano.
“Hi,” I said, not saying much to Aaron. There was nothing to talk about with him, but I also didn’t want to be rude to him.
“I just want to say I’m sorry for making you think your section sucks,” he said. I looked up at him, questioning why he was even talking to me in the first place.
“Is that all?” I asked, wanting this conversation to be over.
“Yeah, just wanted to say sorry,” he said, walking away from me. I turned around, needing to know what was his motive.
“Why the change of heart?” I asked, really only wanting to know that.
“No reason,” he said, shrugging his shoulder. “Just thought you needed the pick-me-up.”
“I don’t need anything from you,” I spat back, rolling my eyes. All he does his chuckle to himself, as if I was funny or cute.
“Gosh, you’re definitely loyal to Kamalani,” Aaron commented before going back to his seat. I rolled my eyes, facing forward again. I didn’t have the energy to fight anyone’s battles today, yet alone Milo’s.
Where the hell is he anyway?
Letters From Liz. 