Life is hard. That is a universal truth, but not everyone faces it the same. For some, the hardness is in the sacrifices; for others, in disappointments. For me, it's about carrying a constant weight, as if everything is designed to remind me that there is no time for pauses or mistakes. Maybe that's why it made me apathetic. It's easier to expect nothing when you're never given something you really want.
My father always said that discipline is everything. "If you want something, work on it. And if you don't want it, still work on it, because life won't ask you." It's not that it's bad; it's just... he. Cold, demanding, uncompromising. Since Mom died three years ago, she's kept the house running like a Swiss watch. Each day has its schedule; each action, its objective. He expects perfection, and I try to give it to him, even if it is never enough.
I work in this store, not because I need the money. My father has more than he could ever spend in a lifetime, but he insists that I must learn to earn mine before I start college. He says that this way I will understand the value of effort. That's why I'm here, because the owner of this shop is his childhood friend and he got me this job. A "life lesson," Dad calls it. For me, it's just another way of showing that their way of doing things is the only valid one.
"Sack, stop looking like that and serve the customers," Mr. Adler, the store owner, shouts at me from the back office.
"Yes, I'm coming," I answer without much enthusiasm, leaving the cell phone on the counter. Not that there's much to do. Most customers arrive, watch, shop, and leave without needing help. That gives me time to take care of my own thoughts, although I would prefer to be anywhere else.
It's not that I hate the idea of working. What I hate is doing it here, surrounded by sneakers and sportswear that never interested me. But Dad insists, and I don't feel like arguing. After all, in two months I'll be in college and I'll be able to put all this behind me. Medicine. A career that I didn't choose out of passion either, but because it's what is expected of me. Although I suppose there is some comfort in knowing that I will at least be good at it.
Today was a day like any other, or at least that's what I thought at first. But then she came. The girl with the Hello Kitty t-shirt and an attitude that didn't fit her sweet looks. From the moment I had spoken to him too much, his gaze challenged me. I wasn't used to that. Most people ignore my apathy or get angry; She did something different: she confronted me, but with a touch of intelligence that threw me off.
I'm not one to analyze people a lot, but there was something about Lindsay—because I made sure to read her name on the receipt—that was left swirling around in my head. Maybe it was his direct words, maybe the way his eyes stopped for a second too much on my cell phone when I left the mail open. I didn't say anything, but I noticed.
When my shift was over, I walked back home with the box of my own problems tightly closed. There is no room for distractions; there are goals to meet. However, something about that encounter with Lindsay refused to go away. Maybe because, for a brief moment, I felt something different.
That aside, I'm now finishing sending the papers to the university. The computer screen lights up my room when I hear the door open. My father enters, impeccable as always, with a slightly furrowed brow.
—How was work today? He asks, without much interest in his tone. He doesn't expect an extensive response, just a confirmation that everything is going according to plan.
"Good," I reply, without taking my eyes off the screen. I don't need any more words; I know that for him that is enough.
"Remember this is temporary, Sack. The important thing is what comes next. The discipline you are cultivating here will serve you for life.
"I know," I reply, trying to keep my tone neutral. There is no point in arguing, much less showing tiredness.
He stays a few more seconds, watching me as if he wants to say something else, but finally nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. His firm footsteps echo through the corridor.
I let out a sigh and return to the screen. The conversation was simple, as always.
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Saturday morning. The sun timidly enters through the curtains of my room, illuminating the mess of clothes and books that I left lying around last night. I get dressed with the first thing I find and go down to the kitchen, where my father is already reading the newspaper, as he does every morning. We don't talk much; It's our style. After breakfast, I take my backpack and head to the park, where I arranged to meet Daniel, my best friend.
"You're late, as always," Daniel says, smiling as he tosses a ball in the air and catches it again.
"Five minutes is not too late," I reply, shrugging my shoulders.
We sit on a bench under the shade of a tree. Daniel is excited; he is going to study law in another city, and although he does not say it directly, I know that he is counting the days until he leaves here.
"Are you ready for college?" He asks, turning to me.
"Yes, I suppose. All that's missing is the final paperwork. And you?
"All done. I can't wait to get out of this place. It's as if everything here is frozen in time. I need something else... dynamic, you know? His eyes sparkle with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.
"Yes, I understand you. Although I don't see it as bad," I lie. The truth is that I share his feeling, but admitting it would be like betraying that apathy that protects me.
Daniel looks at me for a moment, as if trying to read something in my expression.
"I don't know how you can stand, Sack. Your old man and everything else... It's not that I'm an expert, but I think you should think about what you want to do, not just what he expects.
His comment takes me by surprise. It's not often that someone talks about this with me.
"It's complicated," I reply, without looking him in the eye.
"I know. But you don't have to carry everything just because someone else says so. Think about that.
"Let's have a drink, I heard a Starbucks opened near here.
"Well, I got a little hungry, I could eat something light before lunch.
By the time we get to Starbucks, we walk in and I see that girl from yesterday, even though she's dressed differently, she's sitting in a corner, having a drink, I imagine a coffee, with a croissant.