Quotation contest

“After all these years of studying, after all these years of money invested into your education on our hopes of you being a lawyer, you came to tell us, right SMACK before your UQE exams you want to run away and be a fashion designer?”

My father screamed, and screamed loudly did he with meaty and toiled hands that banged with such immense,great force onto the dinner table, where my parents and I sat filled with food that trembled mercifully at each of his blows of rage.

My mother could do nothing, failing at attempts of cooling my father down, who merely glared at her with his strong blue eyes of hatred and coldly brushed her shaking fingers away from his hunched and rigid shoulders.

She sat quietly beside him, her pale face looking down into her lap where both of her hands clasped one another.

She occasionally raised her head to look at me, a look that distinctively said, “How could you destroy our ideal dream for you?”Then turning her head down in shame,allowing her neat bonnet of long jet black hair lean to the side of her frail and bony head.

I kept silent, but intently looked back at my father with the strong blue sincere eyes of mine which he has passed onto me, my defined and unique black hair, which was much too long for a boy, and much too styled for a lawyer student, did not shake nor did it trembled at his cries of frustration and despair.

Tonight was supposed to be a joyous occasion, a small feast to spur me on for my University Qualification Exams tomorrow.

But I spoiled it by informing them I was going to leave for New York tomorrow to study Fashion instead of studying their desired path of me becoming a successful lawyer,

A path, which was my late grandfather’s unfulfilled dream and I was pushed in hopes of my parents to accomplish it.

I did not answer, I did not stutter a single word, but waited intently for my father to release his rage and cool down to continue with details. I just looked at him, without turning my eyes away from his boiling face.

This was how much I desired to become a fashion designer.

A fashion designer who would design clothes that did not reveal lust, impurity and cleavage but clothes that would influence the world, prevent materialism and promote humbleness and an insight of new world design that would change the mind set of people of, “Show more skin, Earn more respect.” To, “You can still be beautiful when you’re not showing too much of your skin.”

My father, who was standing up the whole time, loosened his tightly contorted face and slumped back onto the wooden chair, which creaked a bit at the plummet of his rounded physique.

He heaved a heavy sigh and turned his head to look at the ceiling. My mother turned to look at him, rather surprised at the sudden turn of events.

However, I wasn’t surprised at all. This was my father I was messing about here. The man who had been working from scratch when we just migrated to Florida from china, a humble man with a small beginning.

A man who decided what was best for his family, a man who respected his father a whole lot and decided to turn his aspiration of his late father who wanted to be a lawyer onto me.

And last of all, he is a man who respected Justice and craved for a world of fair justice ever since his grandmother was shot in the streets. The murderer was only given a 12 months probation.

Additional blows to worsen his grieve with added resentment to the way of the 'law' was that: the murderer was released from his 12 months probation 5 months early due to a lack of evidence.

His sister was raped and the rapist received no punishment at all, because, ‘there was no evidence of the rapist at the scene.’

The world was corrupted then, and it is still corrupted now. As long as mankind continues to thrive on this world, corruption will still cease to follow.

Therefore I did not want to interfere myself with this ‘universal corruption’ issue.

I wanted to, not give punishment and send someone to jail. A someone who I don’t know personally and don’t know truly or not whether is he wronged.

But More than ever, I wanted to design beautiful and humble clothes for people, to beautify the world and erase at least a tiny little bit of corruption, to try to erase the human lust of materialism.

“Son,” He spoke with a completely different tone and face from before, “going in the path of a fashion designer will not be good for you, how long has this dream been with you? You have always been scoring distinctions at school and doing well at everything to be a lawyer? Right?”

I did not answer, I did not want to answer. Knowing well my answer would just give him another series of fits.

“Right?” He asked again, his eyes tired and mouth, visibly trying to force a smile from his heavy and agitated heart, an answer from his stubborn and foolish son. Leaning closer to my face.

Silence protruded the dining room, a neighbor’s dog barking in the nearby district. My father still in his stance, leaning forwards and towards me, my mother, who looked on with fear of the war waged between father and son.

A father and son who broke their strong ties due to a mismatch of their hopes.

“ RIGHT?” He yelled into my expressionless face and then grabbed my collar and pulled it towards his face, my adamant expression still there with each others eyes just centimeters away from each other.

“Justin! That’s enough!” My mother shrieked, once more overwhelmed by the sudden change in my father. She pulled back my father forcefully, his face lost in frustration.

This time my father obeyed my mother and sat back down, again, the chair creaked pitifully as he sat.

“Enough?” He addressed to my mom sarcastically still staring at me,

“You say our boy has have enough? He just said he’s leaving to New York tomorrow for a prissy sissy fashion school! How can you expect me to smile and say to him, ‘oh I hope you have a great time there.’ When we’ve invested SO MUCH IN THIS?”

He propped his face with his hands on the table, fingers grappling through his brown straight hair that went out in all different directions.

“Dormitrius, go to your room, NOW.” My mom said to me while patting a comforting hand on my father’s back.

I did as what I was told and did not argue back. Slowly I pushed myself away from the table and left the dining room, which my father shouted after me,

“DON’T YOU DARE TO LEAVE THE CONVERSATION YOUNG MAN! I WANT AN ANSWER! RIGHT NOW! YOU’RE DAMM 18 YEARS OLD, CAN’T YOU DAMM UNDERSTAND? COME BACK! NOW! THIS INSTANT!”

And I closed my bedroom door quietly. His series of shouts muffled. My stomach growled and I reached for a packet of M&Ms on my desk.

“Since I’ve come so far, I’m going to accomplish it.” I whispered to myself, popping a M&M which consisted of 2 red ones that were stuck together.

Not noticing the tiny drop of a tear welling at the corner of my eye as I stared out into the mysterious star dwelled sky.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Have you got your passport?”

“Check”

“Your wallet, and your student identification card.”
“Check”

“The family photo?”

“Check”

“Your 5 set of undergarments?”

“You didn’t need to ask that mom.” I replied my mom, with a dead- flat tone as she drove me to the airport for my domestic flight to New York.

“But I’m serious.” She whined in a childish voice. We both broke out in laughter and then it was silent.

Dad was still in bed, and was apparently still in a bad mood.

“Say, Dommy,” Dommy was a playful nickname she has always cooed me since I was young, “Why in the world did you ever aspire to be a fashion designer?”

“ It’s because I want to create a line of clothes which people can be beautiful in and be not so cleavage at the same time.”

I answered, snuggled at the back with my eyes looking out the car window, the sunlight beating lightly onto the trees and pavements of Miami.

I was supposed to be in an air-conditioned room in the University of Florida, buckled up in an auditorium, fighting for a hot seat in some law school.

What was taking place was too good to be true.
“ Well that is some big dream my son.”
My mother turned the car and stopped. Confused, I looked outside with a more conscious mind and we were at the parking lot of Miami International Airport.

“Yes, a very big dream.” I whispered with a mix of excitement and awe as I stepped out the car.

I opened the trunk and pulled out a briefcase and a trolley-luggage.

As I gently slammed down the trunk case and looked at my mother, she looked at me in the same time.

And as we made our way, up the elevator, and towards the departure gate, a wave of morbid silence draped over us.

Neither did one of us know what to say.

Elton John’s sorry seems to be the hardest word played through my mind.

I was guilty of taking away their hopes of me. But I had hopes that I wished to accomplish myself.

When we reached the departure gate, my mother grasped my hand tightly with her cold bony hands. Her soft brown eyes creasing with a sparkle of the start of many tears to follow.

“This is not goodbye, because I will come home when I have achieved what I wanted.”
I took both of my mother’s hands, hands wrinkled with love and concern tenderly and kissed it.

Then picking up my briefcase and trolley-luggage, I headed for the departure gate. Cruelly leaving my silently crying mother, hands covering her mouth, with one sentence I whispered to her before releasing her hands reluctantly,

“It is because you have loved me that I have a goal, and nothing is going to stop me from achieving it.”

(1716 words) Dear contest people, I've only added the word count and no change has been done to modify the story.