Her cheeks were ruddy, caressed by her dark brown hair. At
11 years old, her face still held the essence of a young child; puffed cheeks
and a button nose. With small stubby fingers, she shaded her eyes from the
blinding sun. Squinting, she peered up at the girl standing beside her. This
girl was lankier, but held her figure with a trace of authority, an aura of
confidence. However, at this particular moment, her confidence seemed faded,
like the aroma of food after cooling. Her scrunched eyebrows were hidden
beneath her unusually ruffled hair, and her light-colored eyes were distant,
searching for a reason, an answer.
Cassidy looked up expectantly at me, “Joleeeen”. She said
it with a lilt, the way all children do when they want something from their
parents. I didn’t say anything, only patting her head, for she was a whole head
shorter than me despite our mere 1 year and 9 months age difference. We were
outside the Custody Courthouse waiting, just waiting.
The sky was a vast panel of deep sea blue, much like the
color of the ocean that ruined our lives forever. It had only been three weeks
since it happened, but our lives had changed so drastically ever since that it
felt more like fifteen years. It still hadn’t sunk in yet, the reality that
haunted us so constantly.
* * *
* *
The fact that I became a piano teacher 12 years ago has
completely changed my life. Not because over these years, the number of students
I teach accumulated to about 50 students, of whom I see every week, taking up
nearly all of my free time; it has become my daily routine, my life; nor is it
because I have taught for 12 years straight, gaining experience and skills from
my students themselves. Yes, I learned from my students, don’t all teachers?
People pitied me for being a teacher who worked nonstop, or perhaps for
something else, but they all gave me that same look, the one with big eyes and
the words “Oh no” shaped with their mouths. I hated that look, nevertheless, it
seemed like I was destined to receive these looks of pity, it’s like I was the
Pity-look Collector or something.
The real reason lies in the situations that I encountered
after becoming a teacher, all of which I must thank my wife for; she was the
one who encouraged me to become a piano teacher at the age of 55, in addition to my regular job. Getting to know each and every
one of my students personally also played a large part. They’ve really come to
be like my own children, no, more like grandchildren. You see, my wife and I
only have each other. Any free time we have, we spend it together, whether it’s
eating at a fancy restaurant or watching the sunset, and I’m grateful. Grateful
for the strong bond we have.
Life started to regain its rhythm, but not quite. So when
we adopted Cassidy and Joleen Marigel, my long time piano students, we were in
for another change.
* * *
* *
He was shaped like a teddy bear, complete with a round
belly and a big nose. From the back, his neck was not visible, even more so
resembling a stuffed animal. His hair was mostly white with gray streaks here
and there, and with gel, his scarce hairs were combed neatly. Behind his
old-fashioned, wide lens eyeglasses, were kind, loving, yet tired, almost
wistful eyes.
We call him Mr. Wesley.
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