The General's Son w***e

V

I came out of my quarters to lay my art materials on the moist grass in our garden, it was a sunny morning but I feel no burning sensation right through my skin, a perfect day to paint another masterpiece indeed, I thought.

I started holding my palette and a brush that can give a light stroke that is absolute for my portrait, mixing colors like how the clouds overlay the blue skies and as the breeze blew my tied up hair, my hands are as the same as the soft strike but only that I was outlining before starting so, that it would not look messy.

I was drawing a man in my dreams, surely there was an impulse in my brain where someone is telling me to paint him.

After quite some time I drew a man in such beauty, the portrait was perfect, like it was real.

Our family had a habit where my mom will give me snacks with a smile after a day with my masterpieces in a Hello Kitty apron whenever our Father is not in sight.

❝Thank you so much, Mom.❞ I said as I move my fingers so that my mother would understand, she was smiling as her eyes stared at the wet painting that I made.

Her brows furrowed in deep curiosity, ❝Who is he? Are you into someone right now?❞ I scratched my head. Mom mostly saw old landscapes, structures or just antique stuffs that came into my dream.

❝No, mommy. I had a dream about this guy- ❞ I answered while moving my fingers to gave a word.

She understood and was convinced with what she saw as I write for her using my hands.

I was deep into thought as a stare into my paintings, this was the first time I painted a guy and it wasn't even my Father.

But everytime I fixed my eyes towards this art or even when I think of my dream, I felt the familiarity that even my heartbeat was pounding so hard.

I did not know that I was smiling but I knew that I wanted to see him, not in my dreams but in real life.

To know what he is for me.

I grew up with my mom and dad who were there when I knew that I could not speak.

I was trying, but there was no voice and so my parents needed me to go to a place who teaches sign language and they even tried learning for me so that we could understand each other.

I can hear, but never speak and so their decision was final that I'll be homeschooled, It was hard for me to learn but I never lose hope and bit-by-bit I'm applying the knowledge to myself.

My father said to not let me learn in a school filled with normal ones to protect me from their judgemental stares and words.

I do understand and so I was accustomed by that, I was habitually amusing myself and I was also listening to my teachers so that my parents would be happy.

After quite some time of staring, I saw my Father who was staring at the displayed art materials that was placed in our garden, I ran towards my sanctuary to keep the art away from him who has a strong hostility towards my talent.

After I reached my room I heard loud steps and I knew that I would hear my fathers shouts again. And it happened, I saw him with his squinting eyes. I asked him why, using the only language that I know. ❝Why Father? Is there a problem?❞ my heartbeat was pounding fast because of the tension.

Once my Father said that it was a curse, but I never thought of my talent that way, I believed that it was what my heart wants and it became my visualized thoughts towards my life.

❝ Did you paint another portrait of yours again? Didn't I tell you not to paint? The only thing a woman should do is to crochet!❞ His eyes showed displeasure.

But thank goodness he did not see the canvas of a man, He might even destroy it because of annoyance.

I saw my mom opened the door and talked to my father, ❝ Don't worry, honey. She didn't paint today. The art materials was just there for other purposes, she didn't even held any brushes.❞ My mom said in defense.

I could not imagine what would happen if my mom isn't here to take care and support me for who I am.

❝ If that's the case, what did she do this day?❞ My father asked and my eyes widened in shock.

I didn't know what I am going to do, I wasted my time doing only the portrait and nothing else and so I looked at my mother to ask for her help, and I saw her smile and nod.

❝She was here in our quarters, she wanted to surprise you. Wait, I'll get it honey❞

We waited for a second until my mom barged into the door holding a piece of fabric with a name of my father on it.

❝Here it is. She's shy to give it to you and told me that I should give it.❞ Mom said as he was showing it to my father who was staring at it like he wanted to know if I really made it.

❝Ok, ok. I'll be out for a breathe of air,❞ He told us and suddenly glared at me.

❝Never ever paint, always do what I tell you, alright?❞

When he was out of sight, I hugged my mother tightly to say my thank you and so she patted my head and smiled at me.

After that frightening moment, I suddenly thought of how my Father reacted when he catched me painting, he shut me inside my own room and my mother can only bring me my food.

He always reminded me to do what a woman should do, crochets.They never even bought me a phone or any gadgets because they told me that social media might poison my mind.

I scratched my nape and smiled, I guess I'm blessed to have a mother who is very understanding.

I hid the portrait I made under my bed, a place where my Father will fail to see it.

I tied my hair, shook my cloth to remove the dirt and went out of the room.

When I reached the kitchen counter, I saw my mother doing our dinner. I poked her and did a sign language for her to understand me since I have a disability when it comes to speaking.

❝Mom, allow me to help?❞ I asked. She immediately smiled and nod in response.

❝You really became a fine young woman with a heart, your soon to be husband will be really blessed to have you as his wife.❞ she said with a smile, it was a compliment that I never thought I would hear.

I saw her cooking my father's favorite dessert, leche flan.

This was always their routine that whenever my father comes home, she'll making him his favorite.

I realized that I was gawking at the sight of the food and so I took the ingredients and helped my mom cook the Tinola and the Leche flan, after quite some time we were done.

I got out of the house and saw my Father letting the wind soothe him while he was smoking his tobacco.

And so I poked him on his back and smiled, I used the only language that I am fluent of so that he would understand me. ❝Father, are you alright?❞ I asked. I knew that he only smoke his tobacco when he is thinking deeply about his problem.

He answered as he was motioning his hand word by word to perform a sentence, ❝I'm fine darling, maybe I'm just restless or uneasy.❞ his breathing is not normal, as if he was thinking deeply as he sighs at the same time.

I know my father too well, he isn't someone who would talk about his life or even his side where he is known to be strict.

He has the side that me and my mother only knew.

He sat down on a bench here in our garden and so I also followed his movements.

The sky was as dark as a switch that is off, only that the stars and the moon shines the brightest that can be seen as a flicker of light. ❝This was the same as to what I witness last time I look at the sky.❞ He said with the best of his recollection.

I was wondering if he was with mom when he saw the moon? Was this their first date?

❝ Can you tell me the story, Dad?❞

❝ Listen to me carefully, a few years ago a guy was fond of painting, it was his favorite thing to do in the world. He doesn't understand why but he was painting with his heart, it was because of a woman in her dreams. but her mother doesn't want him to paint, she believed that it was a curse. Every bit of her masterpieces are always thrown away and burned and when he saw how her mother hated it he left. He run away where his mom won't stop him from doing what his heart desires. until when he reached a museum and he became the keeper there but- ❞ his story was cut off when my mom shouted telling us that dinner is ready.

And so we stand up and he wag off his shirt. ❝ Let's go, your mother is calling us. ❞ he said and I nodded.

It was weird feeling too emotional about my father's story, maybe it was true. Maybe a painter had his first heartbreak like a thinner was splash in their museums art gallery.

My father always tries to let my mother sit on her chair first like a Queen who owns her own castle.

As I was staring at them, my lips tugged into a smile and I did the sign language to tell what I was thinking, they look and act like they are still dating and I think that should be the other couples thing to do too.

❝Why are you smiling?❞ my mother asked me as she was smiling like a madman too, I know she felt the tingles and the butterflies in her stomach every now and then. ❝ You should lead the prayer.❞ she continued after I sat down.

This was our tradition before and even the other things that we would do, prayer is our everlasting practice.

As I nodded my head, the sounds of the rustling leaves outside is the only thing that we could here and so I started to pray. And because I could not speak, my heart speaks for what I truly desire and after I was finished I did the sign of the cross and opened my eyes.❝ Let's eat!❞

After the main course, we ate the dessert at last, it was the leche flan that my mother made and of course, my father complimented how tasty it was.

After we were finish, I started cleaning the table and washing the dishes,❝ Sleep well, Mom and Dad!❞ I said after I came back to my quarters.

As I reached the door I looked at the painting that I made and without any reason I felt the deep affection towards it. After looking at it for quite some time, I returned it under my bed as I turn of the light and there I slept.

The sun is burning my eyes that I sudden rose of from my sleep and yawn feeling the hot scorching

The hot scorching sun made contact with my eyes that I suddenly rose from my sleep yawning. As I reached my small vanity on the side of my room I combed my hair and tied it up in a ponytail.

As I got out of my room I saw my father holding a luggage and he looks like he is about to leave and so I poked him on his back and asked where he was going.

❝ I'm going to Cavite because that is where I was assigned and because of that obey what I said ok? Do not go to any Museum or even paint another canvas. Watch over your mother for me. ❞ He said and so I nodded as a sign of agreement, I hugged him before he goes out.

My mother reached to him and bid her goodbyes and so I got into the house so they would have their privacy. As I was walking, the thoughts ran into my head.

❝ What's in the museum that my Father was talking about? Maybe I'll learn something there if I'll go to one.❞ and so she thought of secretly going out to look at it. ❝ I can only bring my art materials so that I'll leave it there and maybe they'll put it in their gallery!❞

After a minute or two my father had left and I got my canvas ready to start another life for my masterpiece.

Yesterday morning was the same as today that my paintbrushes and canvas are prepared for the day.

As I sat down I saw the beautiful scenery right in front of my eyes and so I held the brush uptight and stroke layouts from the portrait, I was deeply in my artistic mind for hours when the door opened widely revealing my mother bringing up my luncheon.

❝ It looks like you are about to finish?❞ she said as she was moving the saucers and cups for my snacks in the wooden table of my quarter, I was ecstatic with my art and so I nodded agreeing to what she said.

❝ Your niece from the Japan, Osaka will be coming back here in the Philippines and she will be staying here for awhile.❞ she added while using the sign language that was not foreign to me.

❝ Hopefully we will get along, Mother.❞ I answered, and she replied about her being kind and she agrees that we would really be close in just days of knowing each other.

After an hour, my portrait will be finish and so I was ecstatic to find out how it would look like after its done. I was staring at it with a smile until I heard a knock on our front gate and my mom came running towards it like a happy wed-wife leaving the altar after the matrimony.

When they reached the door, it revealed a lady with elegance and with fashionable style, far from how we live in. No doubt she was what my mother was talking about.