Her words cut through the air like a knife. My father�s laughter subsided and became uneasy and I stared down at my plate and pushed around the cold remains of chicken and rice.
But there was only awkwardness for a split second. My father�s laughter rumbled up again and jests were thrown across the table. Even my mother was perfectly jocund. And I too, wiped away the discomfort I felt and smiled half heartedly as I quickly finished my dinner, swept away the dishes, and calmly descended the stairs to my room.
The moment I was safe in my room, out of sight of everyone, I staggered as though from a great blow and crashed against the wall to the floor. After a long period of reflection, I broke into tears of anger and frustration.
I remembered now why I had endeavored not to love, and to kill the love I had so fiercely. In my mother�s world I was nothing more than a child, and children are denied the luxury of romantic love. Little girls are strictly forbidden from knowing the comfort of their lover�s arms and the taste of their lips. Little girls are not allowed to have lovers at all. I feared that if she ever found out I loved, she would bar melamin* away from me forever.
But my fear was of the unknown. I could only guess at how she would react to such a situation. I could not be sure. The projections I made seemed accurate, but could still be quite fearful and extreme. I have never tried my mother before on the topic. I can only judge from vague sentiments she has vehemently expressed and ominous ultimatums she has pronounced to me. So how could I possibly be sure that she would banish melamin if she knew? And with this hope, I consoled myself.
My tears subsided and I began to calm down. By this time only a lingering scent of fear remains, and I am returned to my state of euphoria.
But the fear does linger still�