I WISH I WAS NOT YOUR CHILD

"I wish I was not your child ."

Remember it was my thirteen years old birthday, the time I just graduated from elementary school. You gave me a series of Mozart tapes and told me how you wished me to become a great musician like Mozart was. And I made a wish in my mind after I blew out the candles on my birthday cake;

"I wish I was not your child." Because I knew I will never make it-- to become a musician like Mozart.

You sent me to learn piano when I was five. Every day, I must carry a heavy handbag of scores to the piano classroom. I still remembered the slogan on the wall of the classroom: " The child who learns to play the piano would never be bad." I also remembered that I hated it so much. Because it seemed to be the only reason for most parents to send their children to learn the piano. But for you, there was still a stronger and bigger motivation: You wish me to be a great musician.

I didn't remember how many times I told you that,

"My fingers are too short; playing the piano is not for me. Can't we just give it up?"

But nothing changed your mind. After I graduated from elementary school, you sent me to the best private school to have further music education. Until one day your income from taxi driving could no longer pay for Monica's tuition to University and my expensive tuition for the Music theory teacher and others, you came to me when I was playing the No.23 Sonata of Beethoven:

"Molly?"

I thought you were drunk again. Every time you drank you would come to me and want me to play something for you. Sometimes you would even ask me to accompany while you and your fellows were singing, and I hated it.

"Not now, please! I have a test tomorrow," I said without looking at you.

"Molly?"

"What?" I was irritated. So I turned my head and stared at you. And I saw your red eyes .

"Molly, please forgive papa. Your mama and I just had a serious talk about you and your sister. I...I am afraid that you have to quit your piano class for a while. You know these day my business was not good and Monica needs money to pay her tuition and you..."

"Enough." I said when I closed up the piano. "Don't bother to explain to me. I understand it."

"Just give me some time, Molly. One semester would be enough. I will try my best to make more money, then you can have your piano class again."

"Never mind. I have got tired of them anyway," I said with careless expression.

But I cried loudly in my bed the whole night . And then two semester passed, you didn't mention any music class to me again. And I transferred to the public junior high school, busily preparing the entrance examination for senior high school. To catch up with other students, I crammed so hard to study the subjects I didn't touch for the past two years. The textbooks on my bookshelf were soon replaced from piano study, music theory, the scores of the Baroque, Mozart to History, Geography, Biology, Science and other books which were strange to me. During that time, I cursed every moment that I was your child, and you're my father.

Yes. How I wish that I was not your child! If I was not your child, I can free from those pressures you kept giving me. You know what? I didn't really hate Mozart, I didn't hate piano, either. I just hated that I had to do everything for your sake. I hated that you always introduced me to all your friends with " Now let's welcome the musician-to-be, Miss Molly Wang." And what you said when I played the piano, "Isn't she gorgeous? I am so proud of her!" Even sometimes I played it awkwardly on purpose. I hated you always expect everything I did would turn out to be perfect naturally. And I hated that you used me to fulfill the dream you couldn't make by yourself. I hated you so much and I did everything to make you angry at me.

Did you remember the time I dropped pizza all over your car rug? I thought you would scold me, but you didn't.

Did you remember the election day I told you I vote for the KMT candidate rather than the DPP? I thought you would be mad with me, but you weren‘t.

Did you remember the night I wore a mini skirt and tight shirt, telling you I was going to have a part time job in a music bar, playing the keyboard of a "rock band?" I thought you would hit me, but you didn't.

Did you remember one Christmas eve I stayed in my boyfriend's place without telling you all? I thought you would kill me when I came home, but you didn't.

Yes, there were thousands of things you didn't do. You put up with me, took care of me, protected me and loved me, no matter what I did to against you and to hurt you.

Jesus Christ! Why didn't you get angry with me? Didn't You realize how much I wish that I was not your child? Even until you were hit by a truck, the time I saw you were lying in the blood on a stretcher and were sent into the operation room by the first-aid personnel, I was still thinking that I wish I was not your child.

Mamma fainted when the doctor announced you brain dead. When she came to herself again, she cried bitterly together with Monica. But I shed no tear. I had run out of my tears at the night you told me I had to quit my music classes. And somehow I felt you can still hear me.

So please listen to me. I know you can still hear me. I wish I was not your child! Do you hear me? I always wish that I was not your child!

Come on, I know you can hear me. I said I wish I was not your child! So please wake up and slap me.

Open your eyes and say something to me, please. Say you wish I was not your child and you were not my father. Then both of us can be free.

My dear Papa, please.

Please wake up and set me free.