1985, Seattle, Washington
Joann slammed the door to her room, rushed across the floor and threw herself onto the bed. Tears stung her eyes. The choking, burning sensation in her throat increased as she dug her face into the soft pillows, kicking the mauve bed covers in disappointment and anger.
Her father was mean. Unfair.
She turned on her back and stared at the ceiling. From the edge of her vision the posters that hung on her walls, the long haired group called Foreigner, the sexy stance of Bruce Springsteen and the big group of celebrities in the USA for Africa advert stared at her silently, giving her no sense of comfort. Hurt stung her heart and she drew in a ragged breath. She’d never seen her father get so cross with her.
It hurt.
They’d always been close, always able to talk. The way he had blown up a few minutes ago in the kitchen was both a shock and frightening to her.
She didn’t really want to leave home and volunteer to help the victims of the Ethiopian famine, she didn’t really want to go and work as a volunteer anywhere– heck, she just didn’t know what to do with her life.
Instead of talking about the real issues, of how uncertain she felt about her future, of how she couldn’t for the life of her decide where to apply for further education, she argued with her father, insisting she wanted to see the world and be useful, do good.
In the end he had lost his temper, landed his fist on the solid wood kitchen table so it shuddered under the force of the blow, and yelled at her to ‘shut up and go to your room!’
That had shocked Joann more than her father’s strong opposition. He had never yelled at her before.
Her heart squeezed as the tears welled again, flowing down the side of her face. The salty droplets tickled her ears and she rubbed them off, drawing another ragged breath.
Growing up sucked.
A light knock on the door made her turn and bury her face against the pillows to hide the tears. She heard the door open, then her mother’s soft voice.
“Can I come in?”
Joann nodded into the pillows, clutching the soft material. She felt her mother’s weight land on the edge of the bed, then her soothing touch on her back.
“Joann, darling. Daddy didn’t mean to get so mad. He’s really sorry he yelled at you.”
“Then why didn’t he come up here to say so?” Joann spoke into the pillow, her voice tense and muffled.
“You have to understand that Daddy’s quite stressed at the moment. He’s very busy at work, and hasn’t been able to sleep well lately.”
“That’s no excuse to shout at me.” Joann sniffed. The hurt she felt quickly dissipated as her mother stroked her hair tenderly.
“Well, no, and he knows it too, but you, Joann, you did push him to the limit. What you said—no, insisted, stubbornly—without any realistic plan or knowledge, was just too much for your father today. He loves you very much, Joann, and only wants what’s best for you, but he is only human, like the rest of us.”
Joann turned to face her mother. The loving but concerned look in her hazel eyes soothed Joann at first, but her mind returned to her father’s anger. Her guts jolted in shock again as tears moistened her cheeks.
“But why does he hate me so much?”
Her mother smiled patiently. “He doesn’t hate you, Joann. He loves you very much. Now, I know you’re growing up, becoming a woman, so some of this can be put down to that. On the other hand, growing up also requires a certain level of responsibility, or at least an effort on your part to start thinking more like an adult and less like a child. I know it can be hard, but that’s the way life goes. You are not a child anymore, so you can’t act like one.”
Joann pushed up to sit. Her chin drooped as she threw herself into her mother’s arms, clutching her tight. “I hate growing up, Mom. Why does everything have to feel so hard?”
“It’ll get easier, love.” Her mother’s hands smoothed her back. “You do know your father is right, don’t you? That dreaming about doing good in a famine stricken area is not for young girls like you?”
Joann couldn’t help the rise of defiance as she contested her mother’s words, regretting it the moment she blurted, “Why not? I’m as good as any other volunteer.”
Her mother pushed her to arm's length and fixed her with a stare. “Because there are no heroes or heroines in a situation like that. You are too young to face that much pain and suffering.”
Joann averted her eyes. Fear touched her soul. Deep down she knew she didn’t want to go to a place she didn’t know anything about, to a poor foreign country on the other side of the world. It was just like her mother said. She had lulled herself into believing that helping people, when faced with such tragedy, was noble, that she’d be hailed as a heroine for feeding the masses. That she’d be able to change things for better.
The reality began to dawn on her. “I guess you’re right, Mom. And so’s Dad.”
“I’m glad you understand that. I also know that not one relief organization will recruit seventeen-year-olds to places like Ethiopia, a country in the middle of the worst famine in years, so you have no need to feel ashamed or inadequate. It’s a job for older, more experienced adults, for professionals.”
“I’m almost eighteen, Mom.”
“Nor do they take almost eighteen-year-olds. But that doesn’t mean you can’t do anything. Maybe you could organize a fund-raiser at school, or do some other volunteer work closer to home?”
Joann pouted her lips as she twisted her hands in her lap. “Maybe…”
Her mother smiled and took hold of her hand. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you? Is this something to do with a boy?”
“No, Mom.” Joann sighed deeply and fiddled with the edge of the quilted bedspread. Why was it so difficult to talk about the real issues? She’d never before found it hard to speak to her parents, but in the past year things had become a little tense between them. Joann had no answer to that. Her emotions rocked her from high to low, she spent her days dreaming of all the great deeds she could do, but when it came to deciding how to realize her dreams, she ran into a wall.
A boy was also involved, but she wasn’t going to tell her mother about Jason. Not that there was much to tell, as he probably didn’t even know she existed. She still remembered when she had accidentally touched his arm in a line at the school cafeteria. He had smiled at her, and she knew her face had turned beet red. That memory embarrassed her more than anything else in the whole world.
“Then what is it, darling? You know you can talk to me.”
“It’s…I…” Joann took a deep breath and sighed again. “It’s just that I don’t have a clue what I want to do,” she blurted, frustrated. “I have no idea where to apply, which college to choose, because I don’t know what I want.”
“Why haven’t you told us?”
“I don’t know, Mom.”
“I thought you were interested in arts and design. I’m sure there are plenty of good colleges you could apply to who could provide you with a decent education in that field.”
“That was last year. I’m not interested in that anymore.”
Her mother looked at her thoughtfully. “You have to have an education, Joann. It’s very important. Maybe you should think about it a bit harder, find out about all the choices you have. I’m sure there are plenty.”
“That’s just it. There are too many choices. I don’t know what I want,” she huffed, then fixed her gaze at her mother. “Or I do. I want to travel and work abroad. I want to see the world.”
Her mother smiled. “I see.” She reached to smooth her hand over Joann’s hair. “Well, maybe there’s another way to approach this dilemma.”
“What?”
“Maybe you should take a year off. That might help you to clear your thoughts. There’s nothing better than working in a low paid job for ten hours a day to awaken the need to find something better.” She smiled again, this time in a mildly devious way.
“That’s not what I mean, Mom! I don’t want to be stuck in some hamburger joint for a year, frying greasy burgers. I want to see the world. I want to have adventures, meet new people from different cultures.”
“Who’s going to pay for those adventures?”
Joann’s mood sunk. Why couldn’t her mother understand how important this was to her? She threw herself back on the bed and buried her face in the pillow. “I knew you wouldn’t understand! You’re just like Dad!”
“Joann Keller, I think you'd better take a good look at yourself. Think carefully of what you say and how you act.” The stern tone in her mother’s voice was new to Joann, and it made her stomach ache in shame. She didn’t want to upset her parents, but somehow managed to do so almost continuously. The rebellious streak in her didn’t let her apologize, no matter how much she wanted to say she was sorry. She knew she was behaving like a spoiled four-year-old, but couldn’t stop herself acting stupid.
She felt her mother stand up to leave as her weight lifted off the bed. “When you have calmed down and feel able to talk about different options, come downstairs and we can discuss your future,” she said and walked out of the room.
The sound of the door closing brought a new set of tears into Joann’s eyes.
* * * *
It was already dark when Joann strolled downstairs. Her mood was a little brighter although the prospect of facing her father made her nerves tingle. They’d never had a fight before, and she didn’t know how to apologize to him. She knew she’d done wrong to wind him up like that just after he’d come home from work, but their conversation had somehow escalated into a shouting match, and she didn’t even know why.
She sauntered to the door leading to their large living room. The décor, two adjoining couches placed at an angle, soft fluffy carpets, a glass top coffee table, the bookshelf that ran the full length of the back wall, the pictures and paintings hung on the remaining walls made it a cozy, warm room, the family’s favorite.
They had a separate room for the television because her parents thought it more important to spend time together playing games or talking rather than wasting time in front of the TV. Joann and her two sisters, Elizabeth (Ellie), who was nineteen and now away in college, and Rachel, fifteen, had always been taught to be critical about the world around them, especially of all the information they encountered in the media.
Missing the TV shows didn’t really bother her because real life was much more exciting. Joann and her friends shared an interest that kept their lives buzzing with excitement: the boys at their school.
Her core hurt with the thought of Jason. She hugged herself as she came to a halt in the middle of the hallway. How handsome he was! His blond hair, so stylishly combed to hang over his brows, his chocolate dark eyes. Oh, and his smile…What a perfect set of white teeth, what attractive dimples in his cheeks.
Why couldn’t she find a boyfriend when most of her friends were already going out?
Her momentary light mood passed as quickly as it had sparked when she caught a glimpse of her own image in the mirror by the door to the living room.
A messy dark brown, shoulder length tuft of hair stood on end. Eyes too big and too odd-colored, a mix of green and blue, and a mouth too narrow. Shoulders hunched…boobs…oh, God, sticking out. She ran her hands over her breasts and tried to press them flat. Waistline misshapen, bottom…as wide as an oversized load on a flatbed truck. How she hated her looks!
She turned away from the mirror and swallowed her disgust, pulling her shoulders back, then immediately dropped back to the hunched pose when she saw a flash of her perky breasts in the mirror once more. Despair filled her heart. Why couldn’t she be beautiful?
Moping, she strolled to the living room. Her father sat on the couch reading a magazine. The look on his face startled Joann. Tired, his mouth in a tight line of worry, his eyes low and sad. Since when had her father begun to look like that?
Cautiously she sneaked closer and almost managed to sit next to him before he looked up and smiled, the tight expression on his face melting away for a moment.
He lifted his right arm and pulled Joann next to his side, hugging her tight. “I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. Will you forgive me for being such an idiot?”
Tears choked her throat as she snuggled against his side, relishing his warmth. “It was my fault, Dad. I’m sorry I pestered you right after you came home from work.”
“I know I haven’t paid much attention to you girls in the past few months, but I’ve been so busy at work. I promise to change that, starting today. Shouting at each other doesn’t get us anywhere, I’m sure you know that, Joann, but more to the point, I know better than that. You are young, so you can make mistakes, but I don’t have that excuse anymore. It was my fault to let our conversation escalate into a shouting match, and I’m sorry about that.
“I didn’t mean what I said when I accused you of being stupid for demanding that I should let you leave, because you’re not. I only think that you don’t understand the implications of what you’re suggesting, by insisting that I should let you do volunteer work in Africa. You, Joann, you’re the brightest, the prettiest, the cleverest girl on the whole planet–heck, in the whole universe–but you don’t yet know what the real world is like. I forgot that you’re still so young, and that you have ideals, dreams. Those are good things to have, but, as your father, I have the responsibility to protect you. You are too young to face that amount of human suffering, no matter how noble your thoughts on the issue are. Working as a volunteer in such conditions requires a certain level of maturity and ability to harden yourself, and I don’t want you to grow old too fast.”
Joann took hold of his big hand and whispered, “Mom already said they wouldn’t take girls of my age anyway.”
“Yeah, I know. Your mother also told me that wasn’t the real issue behind our argument. You're having trouble deciding what to do?”
“Uh-huh.” She played with his fingers like she’d done as a small girl, lifting them up one by one, in a sequence, then pressing them down again, into a curled up fist.
“Well, it’s already late, and I’m really tired tonight, but I promise we will talk soon. I’m sure we can come up with a plan, figure out what’s the best way for you to proceed after school. I will dedicate the whole weekend to my family, not one single thought for work, starting on Friday night. Maybe we could also do something nice, go for a hike, or a movie? What do you think?”
Joann looked into her father’s face and smiled. “That sounds great.” The warmth that reflected from his eyes sparked happiness in her heart. “I love you, Dad.”
“And I love you.” He nudged her gently with a pleased expression. “Now off you go. Bed.”