- I do not want! (I exclaim in a caprice tone).
- It's not about what you want, it's about what you need.
May: Don't you think I'm too old for you to decide for me?
- No (he answers calmly, without even looking at me).
Those are the typical moments when I least tolerate my father, when he tries to control me, ignoring that I am no longer that little girl that he pampered so much before. I've grown up, I'm eighteen years old and have been a university student for several months. The serious problem is that he does not understand it, nor accept it or ... maybe he does, but in his own way.
Since I was a girl, trying to exercise any kind of control over me or do something that was against my will was the first step to earn my contempt and even more so at this age. I hate and always hated being told what to do. I will be selfish as Mom says sometimes, but I prefer to accept that and be independent in my life, not that my actions always depend on other people.
May: My opinion in this house never counts, right? (Looks at me) Not even when that changes something in my own life?
He sighs and for the first time takes his eyes off that screen. He removes his glasses and leaves them hanging from the collar of his blue shirt.
Tomás: You're a hard head huh.
He says and the first thing that comes to mind is that he changed his mind. He closes his notebook and stands up, leaving empty that black English armchair that he always occupies when he is at home. I visualize mom coming down the stairs. He approaches us when he is about to retire.
Cathy: Where are you going? (She asks with that cheerful tone that characterizes her so much).
Tomás: To work elsewhere, your daughter's attacks don't let me concentrate (he says, leaving).
After taking a couple of steps, he turns around.
Tomás: Remember that the new boy is taking you to college tomorrow.
Mom sighs, as she watches him disappear down that huge corridor that ends in the kitchen on one side and his office on the other. I flop onto the wide divan, placed in the center of the room, in front of the fireplace, which is dark, since it is summer. She takes a seat in my father's chair.
Cathy: Did they fight again?
May: You know perfectly well who starts fights, Mom.
Cathy: Y ... your dad says the same about you.
May: My dad says things that even he doesn't understand.
Cathy: Don't say that. The problem is not him, it's you (I look at her). Look at your brother if not, they get along excellent.
May (I give a little laugh): Because Oliver likes to be controlled like a mannequin and I don't. In that we are different ... luckily.
That said, I stand up and leave the room, going up to my room. I close the door behind me, turn on the Home Theater, and turn the music up loud. Minutes later, someone knocks on the door. I ignore it. Play again. I huff and open it, cursing inside.
May: What do you want? (I question angrily when I see it).
- Lower the volume, I need to study and you explode my brain with that.
May: Oh, what a pity little brother (I smile evilly). Bye.
I try to close the door, but he puts his hand on the other side of it and stops me.
Oliver: I'm serious, stupid.
May (sigh): Okay, now I put it down. Go away.
He walks in, ignoring me, and sits in my desk chair.
Oliver: You got into a fight with him again, didn't you?
May: Why? Do you want to comfort him, daddy's baby?
Oliver: Are you ever going to understand that everything he does he does for you? It's for your good, stop attacking him for anything.
May: Sure, hire a bodyguard to follow me to college and leave me like an idiot in front of my friends and it's for my good, of course.
Oliver: It's amazing that all you care about is what they think of you.
May: Get out of my room and don't fuck around, okay?
Oliver (sighs): No chance for you to mature.
May: BYE! (I scream, throwing one of the small pillows that are scattered on my bed).
Finally he leaves and I lock the door again. Half an hour later, I hear the voice of Luisa, the only person in the house who understands me or at least listens to me. I open the door and he announces that he is calling us all to dinner. I ask you not to tell that you saw me, because I'm not hungry, although, I honestly know that the real reason is that I don't even want to see my father's face. She promises not to say anything ... anyway, she could have been asleep and not even heard her voice.
I briefly read my last notes from college and, after a quick shower, go to bed, which is very rare for me, since I never usually sleep so early.
I open my eyes and discover that it is daytime when the first verse of "Summer" rings in my ear. That song that I loved before and later hated, when it became my alarm tone every morning. I huff and get up as slowly and negligently as possible. Due to how warm the day is, I go downstairs wearing red shorts and a patterned white muscle. In the kitchen I meet my mother, who has breakfast while she exchanges a few words with Luisa. I join them and, after having eaten, I leave the house. As soon as I close the door, I visualize the black Mercedes S600, in which they always take me to college. I walk toward the car with my head down, focused on my cell phone. As I get closer, I hear someone open the door and I take the right side of the back seat, without even looking up. Seconds later,
- Will you fasten your seat belt please?
May: What? (I ask, ignoring his presence).
- Buckle up. Otherwise I can't start.
Of all the men who ever worked or work for my father, no one ever spoke a word to me if it wasn't me who asked something. I'm surprised by the attitude of this new bodyguard. I look up angrily, planning to "shut him up", make him start the engine without saying more crap and then I see him for the first time, looking at me with a small smile formed on his lips, a gesture I never noticed from others like him.