Page 88 of Face Me Off

My blood races through my veins as I guide them to the next piece. “This one’s called ‘The Puppet and Puppeteer,’” I explain.

The canvas depicts a lifelike marionette. Its strings are tangled and knotted, stretching to unseen hands. But a closer look reveals the puppet’s own fingers wrapped around some of the strings, fighting for control.

Dad leans in, mesmerized. “The detail here is extraordinary.” He traces the air above the intricate knots. “It’s almost like ... like the puppet is trying to break free.”

I nod, surprised he noticed. My voice comes out garbled. “Yeah, that’s … that’s kind of the point.”

Mom’s gaze flicks between me and the drawing as realization dawns in her eyes. “Oh, Madison,” she breathes. “Is this how you feel about your studies? About dentistry?”

I bite my lip and fight back tears. “I- I don’t know. Sometimes, I guess. It’s complicated.”

Dad’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder, surprisingly gentle. “We never meant to make you feel trapped, sweetheart.”

“I know,” I whisper, leaning into his touch. “I just wanted to make you proud.”

They exchange a look, something unspoken passing between them. Then, without a word, they move to the next piece—“The Reflecting Stage.”

It’s a triptych, three canvases showing the exact figure in different poses. On the left is a perfect, polished image. On the right, a raw, vulnerable version. And in the center, a blend of both, caught in a moment of transformation.

Mom’s breath catches. “This is us, isn’t it? All of us?”

I nod, unable to speak. Dad’s arm tightens around me. I look up and blink. Is that tears in his eyes? Or maybe my own.

“We’ve been so blind,” he says softly. “You’ve been trying to tell us all along, haven’t you?”

“I didn’t know how,” I admit, my voice breaking. “I was afraid you’d be disappointed.”

Mom takes my hand, squeezing it tight. “Never, Madison. We could never be disappointed in this talent. We just ... we didn’t see it before.”

I feel something shift as they stand there, absorbing the full impact of my art—of my soul laid bare on canvas. For the first time in years, I feel truly seen.

I guide Mom and Dad to “Dual Shadows.” The piece shows two figures, back-to-back, their shadows intertwining in complex patterns. One shadow is filled with dental tools, and the other with paintbrushes and easels.

Mom’s eyes widen. “Oh, Maddy. Is this how you’ve felt all this time?”

I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah, it’s like I’m always carrying two versions of myself. The dentist you want me to be and the artist I dream of becoming.”

“We never meant for you to feel so … divided,” Dad says, his voice rough with emotion.

“I know,” I reply, surprised by how steady my voice sounds. “But it’s been hard, trying to be everything for everyone.”

They exchange a look that speaks volumes as realization dawns in their eyes.

We move to the final piece, “The Torn Script.” It’s a large canvas, showing a figure breaking free from a tangle of words and expectations, reaching for a bright, undefined future.

Mom’s hand clutches her pearls, mouth agape. “This is … you’re breaking free,” she whispers.

Dad nods slowly, his eyes never leaving the canvas. “It takes incredible courage to do what you’re doing, Madison,” he says, his voice filled with a pride I’ve never heard before. “To forge your own path, to … to risk disappointing us to be true to yourself.”

I feel tears pricking at my eyes. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t understand.”

Mom turns to me, her eyes shining. “We might not have understood before, but we do now. This talent, this passion. It’s who you are, Maddy. And we couldn’t be prouder.”

Our dynamic shifts as we stand surrounded by my art and the truth it reveals. I can breathe for the first time in forever, and I am finally free to be myself. And looking into my parents’ faces, I realize that maybe, just maybe, I can have it all—my dreams and their love, without having to choose.

“Maddy,” Dad says, his voice rough with emotion. “We owe you an apology.”

I blink, stunned. Did I just hear that right? My parents, who’ve been pushing me towards dentistry since I could hold a toothbrush, are apologizing?

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