Page 92 of His Sound
I’ve never seen my father look flustered before. He almost seems embarrassed.
Embarrassed to be proud of me.
I don’t know why it matters so much. I meant what I said: I’m not a kid. I shouldn’t need his approval. Seeing Monsieur Drolet today woke something inside me up. Hearing him talk about me like some kind of returning hero started a humming inside me, a rumble deep in my bones I’d never felt before. The sound only got louder after I spoke withMaman, after I listened to her tell me I’ve done amazing things.
Sometimes I swear I catch Molly’s words inside its rhythm:You have to believe in yourself.
I want to. I want it so bad, maybe even more than I wanther, because I know that there is no chance of having her without this. I understand that I can’t truly be with someone else until I’m ready to be myself.
And for somemauditreason, I need this man in front of me to help me do that.
“I...It...”Papacontinues to struggle, staring down it the floor. “It—Yes. It was me.”
Well that’s something, I guess. It’s just not enough.
“Why did you hide it?”
“I...” He swallows and looks me straight in the eye. He doesn’t stutter anymore. “I thought I was helping, that if I encouraged your music, you’d think I didn’t believe you could do the same kind of jobs as your siblings. You deserved to be treated the same way, to be held to the same standard. Everything I did was to keep you from feeling limited, like less than anyone else.”
I surprise us both with my next sentence.
“Different than doesn’t mean less than.”
We stay silent for a moment, letting the words ring out before I continue in a low voice. “Ineededto be treated differently. Iamdifferent, but that...that doesn’t mean I’m not equal.”
At first I don’t think he’s going to reply. I almost miss his answer.
“I was wrong.”
It’s exactly what I’ve been waiting to hear, but I still can’t quite believe he’s just said it.
“Your mother was right,”Papacontinues. “We failed you. I should have told you a long time ago...that I’m proud. I’m very proud of you, Jean-Paul. I always have been.”
“That’s all you ever had to say,Papa.” I feel myself standing taller. “I want things to be different now. If you’re proud of me, I want you to treat me like you’re proud. If you respect me, I want you to show me respect, and I want you to show it to anyone else I bring here. This is my life, and I get to decide what orwhois enough for me, okay?”
He walks away, but at least he nods before he does it. I stand there for a moment, breathing hard.
I know what the sound inside me is now. I know what the humming means, the one that’s telling me to move—not with the spastic demands that have always ruled my mind, but with the purpose of decision.
It’s the sound of change.
