Never Settle

I lay back staring at those stars again. Those damned stars. I’d have to remember to rip them off my ceiling the next chance I get. Too bad I’d wake up in the morning and they wouldn’t be glowing anymore. Whoever thought it’d be a good idea to stick glow in the dark stars on my ceiling? Oh wait, I remember who.

The same person that took me star gazing for the first time in my life. Who was thoughtful enough to get a blanket so I wouldn’t get grass stains on my dress. The same person who showed me the Sagittarius in the sky, told me about the science behind astrology, who told me that stars align to write your fate, but it’s in our hand to change these destinies. The same person who recalled how he had changed his fate. How his efforts had brought him to right this moment, next to me. He had sweetly taken my hand in his, and I remember how small mine were compared to his larger hands. How even after living a life of struggle, he had the softest palms and how he looked at me and said, “I hope you find someone who looks at you, the way I look at you. Never settle for less, okay?”

And I didn’t. Not when we moved cities to make their marriage work. Not when I heard him scream vile things at my mother. Not when he left one night, and we never saw him again. And I didn’t settle, when he came back, 12 years later, new family in tow, and wanted to get back in touch with me, because he missed me.

That brings us back to my lack of sleep. My mother, taking the high road, has forced me into spending a day with him. Without her, of course. Grunting, I punch my pillow a few times, just to get comfortable. Or maybe I’m imagining a few of my parents’ faces. I turn my phone over to see it’s 3 AM. Great. I’ll be well rested for the college interview I have tomorrow at 8 AM. Not.

I can’t believe the culmination of all my hard work, all those papers, all those extra credits, has to be on the most emotionally exhausting day for me. But as much as I hate it, I’ll always carry that one little piece of advice with me. I won’t settle. So what if it makes me bohemian, or makes me feel nomadic and makes it difficult for me to put my roots down.

I’ll not settle until I get to where I want, how I want. And I’ll just push through whatever it is tomorrow. Keep my eye on the prize. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. With a firm nod that nobody saw, I turn to my side and shut my eyes.

I wake up to the blaring alarm from my phone. Trying to see through the jungle of my hair, I finally get the damned sound off. Wait. I look at the screen again. 8:15. No, no. That can’t be right. What the actual hell. Oh my God. I can’t believe I actually missed it. Missed my one opportunity in 17 years. No scratch that , THE opportunity. I knew this day was damned from the beginning. The myriad of emotions that is running through me at this point is hard to even recognise. But one rises above all else. Anger.

Before I know it, I’m storming down the stairs looking for my first victim. And I stop in my tracks when I see her. Or more clearly, him. They’re sitting in the living room. Drinking tea. And talking, like everything was okay.

And just like that, all my rage disappears. All I feel now, is loss. Loss over what could have been, if he’d stuck around. If she’d held on a little longer. If they hadn’t burned out so quick. If I saw them as humans, who make mistake, rather than just my parents.

With that little internal conversation, I finally let out a  sigh . Hoping to expel all other emotions, that aren’t necessary today. That could be dealt with on another day.

I make my way into the living room, letting my presence be known. It’s been long since I saw him, he’s aged. A little whiter around the temples, and had a lot more frowns than I remembered him, but maybe the frown is all in my head. “Hi”.

“Hello.”

“Oh you’re up! How’d your interview go?”, my mother asked.

 “I got late, missed it. Don’t worry. I’ll reschedule”.

“Oh okay. Sorry, I thought you’d wake up on your own.”

“That’s okay, we anyway have a day planned for today, right?” I asked him.

“Oh, yes we do. Anything you’d like.” He looks at me hopefully.

“Okay, sounds like a plan. Let me just get ready”.

I rush back upstairs and go about my business and get dressed.

And honestly, the rest of the day passed by in a blur. It was... good. Surprisingly, if you let go of your biases, it’s not that difficult to have a bad day with your estranged parents. Especially when they’ve been away for 10 years, and you need to catch them up on your life. And they have so much new in theirs. Thankfully, he was sensitive enough to not bring up his new family a lot, but I did say, I’d love to meet them one day. Some day. Way, way in the future.

I make my way back to my house after dinner. I see my mother in the living room, waiting for me to come back. I go up to her and hug her, hoping she understands what I can’t bring myself to say. She pats my back, sniffling, and I know what she wants to say. I know, I’m a great kid.

I change for bed, and lay down. I look back at the stars on my ceiling, never forgetting them, not ready to let them go.  Oh well, I might leave it up for another day. The stars, I realise, mean whatever I want them to. Astronomy, astrology, constellations, or plain balls of gases, that never settle. And I’ve realised, neither will I. Not until I meet someone, that looks at me the way I look at stars.