Learning to Be a Mother

37. We Have Choices

I argue a lot with my son. There were a few jolts that made her lips tremble, there were a few pauses that she could take as a form of patience when facing me. I don't know who's to blame, but our debate led to the awkwardness of the atmosphere in this house, again.

Between Fathan who does not want to be understood or I who press a lot, he does not want to obey and is reluctant to follow the flow of this one life. I don't know if anyone influenced him or not, did he read too much into things that could make him reject my words? Am I that hard?

Who usually looks down or nods 'yes', now choose to be quiet and act not to hear his mother who spoke from earlier. If the second exam had already begun, Fathan could have told me. However, he is not so.

"Dengerin Mama said no?"

"Denger," he answered briefly, "but Fathan has filled out the data through the form link, can not be changed."

"Yes, let Mama say the same to Irma."

"Why, Ma?"

I distributed my attention to him, opening the welcome gate to the boy who would continue to protest again. My phone was placed, I looked at him from the dining table while being calm, trying to make him not hesitate to shake his waist in front of his mother from now on.

Fathan is a quiet boy who should get his attention, should not be given in the slightest to my last son in this position. He seemed to be protesting, raising his hopes and fate all this time that had been replaced by his sister.

"Mama, Fathan wants to say thank you very much because Mama and I have financed Fathan's life. I was patient, had a lot of advice Fathan until Fathan in this position. Just Fathan for help, Ma. Fathan has his own will.

"Fathan does not want to like other people, Mama always said to be yourself and Fathan just as Kalista also has his own will. Fathan can take responsibility, Fathan is great, Ma."

"Nobody said that."

Hearing me so, Fathan sighed as if his words were fruitless. This was indeed impressed; how long he persuaded, if his mother did not want to open her eyes, then the psychologist or psychiatrist who explained it was meaningless.

"Fathan is wrong, Ma?"

"You don't think, yeah. If you hear your talk earlier, you want to be beaten? You want Mama to get scolded again? Want this family to fight?"

"Fathan didn't mean it," he replied, "but really what Fathan said, Fathan has his own choice, Ma."

"You have a choice, but this family has rules, too."

My son seemed to be grieving, inexhaustible with what I said earlier as if running out of words to reply. I smiled a little at him frustrated without a sound, he harbored a rage that could not be vented to anyone before the door of our house was knocked repeatedly.

My attitude turned to someone who just arrived, he waltzed in like he had just had his day as best he could. There was no yelling or bag-throwing as usual, all of his emotions seemed to be controlled alone. Yeah, at least before my last kid saw his sister sitting dizzy.

Fathan massaged the forehead, unconsciously showing us his emotional form which was not as usual. Intending to understand the person with bad feelings, Kalista finally took the time to sit with him on the sofa before asking me first.

"Why, Bang?" he asked, embracing Fathan's shoulder, "is there a problem? The test is hard, huh? In I was also very difficult this morning, fortunately Semalem actually studied. Lo studying isn't?"

It was my turn to breathe. I don't know how Fathan would deal with his sister like this, if he could control his emotions or not, huh? Usually, Fathan is very rarely seen emotionally in front of us. He's the type who prefers to be alone, I've never seen him gouge.

However, I do not want to make this house full of many questions. So I answer it simply, "Son you fill the data want to lecture in Literature, but the same Mama is not obtained."

"Well, why not?" Kalista wondered, "lagian Fathan is also a pinter, Ma. He likes to read books or novels, why not? The potential is big time."

"You know nothing."

Like his father who brushed off rejection in any form, Kalista moved away from Fathan. He got up from his couch, keeping a position to reciprocate messages between me and my son that were a long distance away to hit.

"I don't know anything, but I know Fathan can choose himself. Fathan has always had the same responsibilities as his duty, he rarely misses everything. So, why not?"

"The literature is for girls, when boys like to read such novels. Malulah if the neighbors know, especially if your father is horrified. Dad always supported Fathan, but we also have a batesan."

"Mama who can't make her son choose!"

"Mama love freedom so far so much lack?"

"Freedom?" My son was uproar, "meaning to disobey Big Brother futsal, comments when I play outside the house. Can not play games, must always be yes and yes if saidin. Should be diem pas dad said, inem when dad mukul, diem when sister also dikiniin Mama. That so?"

"Mama never taught you to like ...."

"No one!" He cut me off, "that Mama never taught me or Big Brother like that, but Mama same father who made us like this."

In one breath, Kalista continued her words again. "I was also always required to do more than Brother, I was always asked to learn and continue learning even though I still have a hard break until now."

"Oh, are you tired?" I interrupted.

"Yes, I'm tired. Mama wants to say that I can't complain, right? I can't be tired, why am I at home? Play HP all day, right?" He seemed to underestimate me, "want until whenever Mama or dad wants to feel tired I'm with Big Brother, there will be no end."

"Calistas."

His sister called, making a headband as a form of interrupting the debate between us. Fathan was unable to say more, he looked tired and unwilling to take care of what was before him now. Looks like running away from reality, I hate it that always was.

"Mama don't know what you want, but if you still don't want to recite, please do. Let you guys directly talk to me, all this time Mama has been doing, ngeiyain already, have covered up your mistakes. Now Mama raise her hand. Choose it yourself."

"It's not about winning and losing, Ma!"

"Mom's wrong again?"

"We have a choice!"