Vagabond Multilingual Journal Spring 2014 | Page 41

“What’s new, honey?” he asked me. “Not much. Nothing new, I guess,” I answered, not really feeling
this conversation. All of a sudden, I had this melancholic feeling, almost painful. “Come on, sweetie.
I know you have a lot to tell me. I want to hear it all,” he insisted, as if I could wrap up all I had to
say in just fifteen minutes. “I told you already, there’s nothing new. I’m a bit stressed with school
and planning my quinceañera, but it doesn’t matter; I’ll pull through,” I lied; of course it mattered.
Growing up, I wasn’t spoiled, but since I can remember, I’ve had this fantasy of my quinceañera
looking like it came straight out of a fairytale book. I wanted a huge reception with hundreds of
guests, music, a gorgeous princess-like dress, but most importantly, my parents together, sharing
this experience with me. Of course this mattered to me, but even if I told him the truth, his reply
would be the same; a reply he couldn’t even believe himself. “It’s not important?” my dad asked,
“You’ve been planning this celebration since you were five! Tell me, honey, what’s wrong? You think
I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re lying? You and I are the same.” I don’t know
what made me want to open up to him, but I did. “Honestly, I’m tired of this routine. You never
change. I don’t know about mom, but I can’t do this anymore. You haven’t been there for me like
my mom has. You’ve missed out on so many important events in my life, that it doesn’t surprise
me that