The night wind had begun to howl in an aggressive manner as it sent the window panes shuddering and the tree branches just outside his window, dancing in tandem with its tune. The moon seemed to have disappeared now and while Vukan wished it still lingered in the skies, he felt glad to some extent that there was one less thing about to witness the events which were about to follow.
"You have one job, Vukan", Henry began by saying. "You have just one job!"
His voice grew louder and bore some verve in it as well. The man stood akimbo, seemingly gathering his thoughts and words before he would lash out accordingly. Vukan was no stranger to that particular moment; he had been there before and while he had lost on a few occasions, he wasn't about to allow himself lose this time around.
Henry Adamson slowly trudged through the litters on the floor, walked over to the window and ran his thumb across the window with a look of dissatisfaction in his eyes.
"What more do you need?" Henry asked. "What more do you need to get things done in the appropriate manner!?"
Vukan looked around and amassed the sight of his failings as well. Unnoticed to him, the room had turned into an eyesore while he struggled to find his light. His bedroom was a mess, his studio, which was adjoined to his bedroom to grant him ease of work, was no different. Worse of all, he had nothing positive to show for it.
Vukan turned to his father with rather guilty eyes. "I got carried away, but i… ".
The young man paused and bit his lips without really knowing what to say. Considering the night had turned out horribly, his father coming to his room and workspace wasn't what he had envisaged or even wanted. It made things feel sour and caused his belly to churn with discomfort as well. He needed a way out, but nothing came to mind yet.
"Maybe he would leave", Vukan thought to himself in a naïve manner.
Staring at the towering figure just some feet before him, taking his time to amass the disturbing sight in which the room was, Vukan prayed within and almost heard himself whisper the words out. Their last episode was some weeks back and it had not gone down too well. Things had just begun to smoothen over within the past week, but he sensed they were about to get worse.
The older Adamson in the room dropped his head and slowly turned to look at Vukan. "Do you care to explain?"
Vukan wondered what there was to explain; he obviously tried to paint and didn't get what he wanted through. He shifted from where he stood, walked over to some wraps of canvasses discarded close to his reading table, and began to pick them up without answering his father.
"Get back here and answer me when I am speaking with you, boy!" the man raged out. "What on earth is going on here!?"
Vukan gulped down a hot sob of shame and unease as he slowly got back up and turned to look at his father. "I was trying to paint and after many trials, I didn't get what I needed".
It was the easiest explanation he could give considering the circumstances. Yet, he perceived there was more being needed from him. Asides the troubling sight of his scattered and rather unkempt room, the drably painted work he had just discarded was bare for his father to see. The man only needed to bend a knee to pick it up but he stood there, glancing at the aspect of the canvass which he could see.
"I can explain", Vukan sought to defend himself and offer some form of explanation to shelter his actions.
Henry scoffed and did so in a derisive manner while he shook his head. "It is just what I was waiting to hear. You always seem to have an explanation for failing and I cannot wait to learn what you have to offer this time around".
Vukan cringed for a moment, parted his lips to speak but words wouldn't come through. He sucked in ample breath and hoped for strength to reply but found himself on the verge of stuttering.
"I… the canvass… ", he stuttered, hoping to cast blames on the quality of the canvass he was attempting to paint with.
The move was fallible and he had walked right into Henry Adamson's trap. His father had ordered every single utensil and painting instrument he had in that room from one of the finest art shops in Japan. He had done so with much enthusiasm and belief in getting his son the best and Vukan could not dispute the sight of happiness and joy in the man's eyes when they had them delivered
"I will not be treated like a fool", Henry muttered. "You want to blame the canvass? You seriously want to cast whatever blame you rightly deserve for doing things the wrong way, on the canvass?"
"But Dad, i… ", Vukan stepped forward to defend himself before falling short of words as his father raised up his right hand to halt him from speaking.
Henry walked over to one of the crumbled canvasses on the ground and picked it up. "Do you have any idea how expensive this is? Have you the slightest idea how much we put into your failures over the years, while all we ask is that you make one progress! Just one progress!"
His voice grew louder while he gesticulated with both arms, before holding up one of the wasted canvasses before Vukan's face.
"You are Adamson! Act like one!" his father continued to rage. 'We don't quit! We don't fail this much and when we fail, we bounce right back and not act like… like… ".
Vukan found an opportunity as his dad stuttered for more condescending words. "Like what? Call me what you truly want to call me! I need you to call the word! Failure! Grand failure! Epic failure!"
While the words were harsh and somewhat disturbing to attest with, they were what he had heard the man use on him before. It didn't take long for the older Adamson to flare up and lash out when he saw his son underperform. His high expectations had always been a source of bother and a trigger point for the duo and on this particular night, Vukan wasn't expecting anything else.
"How can you call yourself a supporting father when all you do at the slightest point of me failing is castigate the hell out of me!?" Vukan yelled, caring less about how far his voice would travel in the dead of the night.
Henry snorted and shook his head. "How many more do we have to take from you? How many chances would you be given before you finally become productive? Do you have any idea how many times you've quit things because you weren't comfortable with them?"
Vukan turned his back on the man immediately, hoping to find solace in the dead night outside his window and with the hopes that the underlying darkness would soothe his pain.
"Look at me when I'm speaking with you, boy!' Henry demanded.
Vukan turned around out of respect but stood with folded arms across his chest.
"Let's pretend I'm interested in whatever excuse you have to give", Henry cleared his throat and slowly walked over to a stool and planted himself into it.
His theatrics weren't new to Vukan but the level of cam the man suddenly seemed to attain as he sat on the stool, legs crossed and eyes fixated on Vukan was somewhat troubling. Vukan gulped down hard and felt his throat begin to clump shut. Lumps of worry mixed with anxiety slowly formed along his trachea and regardless of how much he told himself he could weather the storm, they just wouldn't leave.
"Talk to me, Vukan'', his father demanded. 'What exactly happened here and why are there so many canvasses littered across your floor? We will get to the shitty state of your room afterwards".
Everything within Vukan seemed to warn him against replying. His nerves twitched and he could barely move his lips accordingly as he sought a place to sit and engage his father from. Henry Adamson, a man revered for his mental toughness and pride, was no match for feeble-minded and young Vukan, but the latter wasn't about to let himself get intimidated.
Considering how well he had given his best to his current craft, he just wasn't about to get washed off with demeaning words.
"It isn't the canvass, but painting just hasn't been… ', Vukan tried to explain. "I have not felt the inspiration yet. I give it my best though, but… '.
The young man continued to halt and swallow words he intended to air out. The wall clock chimed and indicated midnight was upon them as Henry looked away from his son for a moment and back at him after acknowledging the time.
"But your best just hasn't been good enough", Henry sought to complete the sentence his son didn't. "Your best has been no different from what you put into every single activity you partake in since I've known you".
Vukan upped himself from his seat and responded. "Don't do this tonight, please!"
Henry Adamson followed suit and upped himself from his seat as well. "Don't do what exactly? You don't like being reprimanded when you obviously need it. Yet, you don't give in as much effort as you do in your video games to real life events that will shape your future!"
Henry Adamson marched over to Vukan's video game collection, kicked against the console and sent it flying across the room. Vukan stared at the man with reddened eyes and watched him hold up some game CDs, before flinging them out of the room through the window.
"Hours after hours! You play that crazy game every single day and nothing good comes from other aspects of your life!' his father continued.
Feeling belittled, ashamed and angered all at once, Vukan dropped his head as the barrage of insults came flying at him without restraints. His heartbeat flat lined for a split second and his fists folded into angry balls on either side of his body.
"Why!" he screamed without holding back.
Henry Adamson paused and slowly stepped away from his son out of reflex.
"I give my best to everything I do but when they don't click or when you don't get the desired result, you constantly feel the need to berate me and compare me to others, so tell me why you do it!?" he asked in a more versed manner than earlier.
Henry Adamson replied staunchly, "Because you give up too easily without even learning how to get things done accordingly!'
The air in the room thinned and the two stood within feet of each other.
"Look at this horrible painting and tell me you didn't attempt to go about this the wrong way? Did you or did you not opt for a rather crude and shorter method?" he asked his son.
Vukan didn't need to look at the canvas or the failed painting again to realize he had actually taken the shortcut and ended up with a crude result. Yet, it was what he felt most comfortable with. it was what he felt would give him the best result in the shortest time and it obviously worked for others whom he had come across in his painting classes.
"Just because it isn't what you approve of, does not make it any less functional", Vukan replied.
He watched his father give off a sarcastic laugh before running his fingers through his thick brown hair.
"Are we going to talk about everything else outside the painting? Besides the obvious mess with these paint splashes, what else haven't you made a mess of?" Henry asked in a rhetorical tone.
Vukan knew exactly what was coming and he had no way of stopping it.
"There was business school, which you ran away from for whatever reasons you concocted in your darn head!" Henry continued. "We also had law school after that, but you failed to make something of yourself there and here we are with painting and it still isn't going well at all!"
Vukan believed he had had enough of the man's condescension. He was sick and tired of being berated without an ounce of sympathy and respect and he rushed over to his wardrobe to pick up his jacket.
"You know what? You can enjoy yourself and keep on with your criticism as always! You have never been supporting and you never cared enough to understand what I go through!' Vukan yelled. "So, when you feel the need to act like a father, I will sit and speak with you, but not in this current state!"
Vukan marched to the door while he could hear his father vehemently ask him to turn around and not walk out on him. He was losing the battle already but he wasn't about to lose the war. He headed down the staircase and watched his mother step out of the kitchen with a glass of water in hand and a bewildered look on her face.
"Vukan?" she called out, somewhat shocked 'Why are you up at this hour and where are you going to all dressed up?"
Vukan had no doubt the woman had not heard the ruckus going on in the house. Having taken some valium every night to assist her sleep, she was quite the deep sleeper except something really gets her to wake up.
"Nothing", he replied staunchly and walked past his bewildered looking mother.
He would rather be out there in the dead of the night than allow his father continue to disregard him. It wasn't the first time and it wasn't going to be the last either. For the younger Adamson, life as an Adamson was hard as nails and so far so well, he had not been doing enough to match up with the huge expectations that came with the name.
It was a high expectation from the world that citizens of Canzos are good at everything, especially his area, the Central Canzos, where all the rich, intelligent, celebrities live. And to add on top he is born in the high reputed Adamson family.
It felt even worse with his father watching his every move.
"You can have your bloody house for all I care", Vukan muttered to himself before unlocking his car door.
Feeling enraged, he pulled out of the parking space, veered east and drove beyond the speed limit while his house continued to fade into the distance. Copious amount of adrenaline coursed through his veins as he veered ahead, bolstered by the desire to get as far away as possible from his father.
He knew just the right place to cool off. It was somewhere he had visited more than once whenever his father gave him a difficult time. Vukan Adamson drove through the rough roads without an ounce of care as his heart was hell bent on being at the "Bridge of Souls".
***
His drive through the dirt roads, pitch dark and howling silence finally came to a halt as he sought to breathe. Hearing his heartbeat and threatening to tear through his chest caused him more hurt than the words his father had hurled at him some minutes before. Vukan was used to the sultry words and constant putdown but tonight felt worse.
His past mistakes and failings had been rubbed in his face.
Business school had not turned out the way he wanted, and law school, which ought to fix things and avert the castigation of not finishing business school, had ended up terribly too.
"Why can't I get anything done right!" he raged and rammed his fist into his steering as his eyes turned red.
Vukan wondered when it would all come to an end; if it would come to an end at all. The berating had never ceased and his father's sharp tongue would sting like a bee at every opportunity the man was presented with. While his mother would do her best to calm things down, she had not been around to make peace on this particular night.
Subtly sniffing, while his murky vision permitted little light to pass through, he spotted the bridge just ahead, some short distance from where he had parked his car. The night felt peaceful where he was; the wind howled beautifully while the trees danced in accordance. There were no tough words from his father and above all, he didn't feel the need to engage anyone but himself.
Through the darkness, Vukan spotted a figure drawing closer. Worried, he turned off his engine and watched the image suddenly draw to a halt just by the railing, looked around with his face perfectly sheltered in a hoodie, before leaning towards the protective railing overseeing the river.
"Shit!" Vukan muttered to himself.
The scenario seemed to only mean one thing in that moment as he watched the hooded figure continue to bend over the railing.
���He is about to jump", Vukan thought to himself.
Reports of depressed people jumping off bridges and drowning were on the high but he never assumed he was going to come across one. Hurrying out of his car, he let his door back into place in hopes of not startling the hooded figure.
"Carefully", he warned himself as he drew closer, well hidden by the darkness.
Whatever stealth he had managed to obtain and keep up was bound to get torn to shreds the moment he walked atop the bridge. The bridge, well-equipped with lights would give him away in an instant and Vukan was hoping it wouldn't startle the jumper into doing anything rash. More so, the worry of whether or not the individual could be armed crossed his young, but daring mind.
By the frame, Vukan could guess the figure wasn't an adult. They shared a similar build, but getting a good glimpse of the individual's face seemed to be more difficult than he anticipated.
"Oh shit! He is about to do it", Vukan noted as he intensified his pace towards the bridge.
Feeling a sting of guilt that he might not probably be able to get to the jumper in time, Vukan took to his heels, while he waved his hands dearly. The distance he had to cover did him not much good, but he hoped to get noticed enough to distract the person, even if it would be for a moment. He could not stand the eventualities, should the figure drown and commit suicide under his watch.
The figure slowly bent backwards and placed his upper body back atop the rail, almost as though he intended to flip over before his next action stopped Vukan on his tracks. Slowly, he pulled out a shiny object which he glared into on the safety of his hands, raised it to his lips as he seemed to plant a kiss into it, before clamping his eyes shut and casting it into the river.
Vukan watched the figure turn around, with his face coming into proper view through the process. The figure was definitely a young fellow, somewhat within the same age bracket as Vukan and whose face bore some measure of dour as he turned away and disappeared out of sight.
Somewhat intrigued and puzzled by whatever the young man was doing by the river, Vukan raced over, just in time to see the shining coin slowly make its way towards the bottom of the river.
"He came to make a wish", Vukan realized to himself as a faint smile slowly trickled into his lips.
Atop the railings were beads of tears, obviously from the young man who had just come to make a wish. His innocence coupled with the sadness on his face in that moment he revealed himself to Vukan, struck the latter's heart. His action drew some admiration from Vukan, who plunged his hand into his right pocket, drew out a coin and held it tightly for a moment.
Clamping his eyes shut with the image of the teary young man he had just seen floating across the field of his mind, Vukan made a wish for the stranger's wish to come through, before letting go of the coin. The cast coin slowly simmered out of sight and towards the bottom of the river within seconds.
"I sincerely hope your wishes come true", he whispered as he thought of the young man once again, and of the innocence his face exuded.
With a warm smile lighting Vukan's face, he slowly turned around and began to walk back to his car. There was something about seeing the wishful boy over at the bridge that made him smile all the way back to his car before deciding to drive back home.
Vukan Adamson's night felt lighter and the hurt coursing through his body slowly dissipated as he drove carefree through the night once again.