Hues of Love



"How many times do I have to tell you to quit that art school? I want you to enroll in a law school, not in a goddamn school who only teaches to mix paint." For the nth time, I've already lost count of how many times we'd argued about this.

It's tiring to defend my passion to someone who closes her mind and only cares about money and bloodlines. Is it hard to understand that I'm not interested in getting to law schools? I have no intention of following her freaking footsteps!

"Therese Auburn Generoso, I'm warning you. If you don't quit that school, I'm gonna pull you out myself!" She hollered which made me turn my head towards her direction.

She's gonna do what?

"What?" I asked in disbelief.

She doesn't have the right to pulling me out of that school. I made it on my own, I didn't use any money that she has given to me!

I sold all of my artworks and tried various part-time jobs without her knowing– as if she'll give a damn, she's too busy with her clients anyway.

Not a single penny from her wealth was used because I knew that this day would come, her one and only child will need to follow her footsteps because according to her, it runs in our blood.

"I can do anything, just to make you quit that school." She emphasized the word anything as if she's threatening me.

I gave her an incredulous look, she's out of her mind! What kind of parent does that? Does she only care about following some bullshit footsteps of our oh so great ancestors? My God!

My blood was boiling as I stood up and leveled with her height. I'm tired of this crappy way of hers, trying to own my life as if it was hers. Today, everything must come to an end because right now? I'm more than just suffocated, I'm nearly disgusted with what she's trying to do.

"You. Do. Not. Own. Me." I emphasized each word out of anger.

The shock was written all over her face, this was the first time I stood up as if I can take care of myself. The first time that I made it clear that I am not someone whom she owns. Our past arguments were just me, trying to calmly explain everything, I always try my best to control my anger. . . because I hate lashing out at my mother.

But I had enough of it.

"Stop making my life miserable. You, trying to have complete control over my life makes me loathe you, I hate you–" before I could finish my rants, I was invited by a hard slap on the left side of my face.

It was painful, but it didn't matter. A smirk was formed onto my face the moment that I realized that my lips were bleeding. It's showtime, honey.

"Were you hurt?" I sarcastically said as I move my gaze back to her. She didn't show hurt nor sadness, just. . . Anger.

Up until now, she shows nothing but rage. No love nor sadness, not even a twinge of care for her daughter.

Well, who am I to be loved by her? I'm nothing but a mistake created by her one drunken night with Alfred Generoso, my father who died when I was six years old. And of course, I know their story, I hear it every night when they quarrel.

As typical as it sounds, my mom and dad were forced to get married because of a hypocritical belief of our ancestors. Even if love doesn't coexist in between two people, they must get married as it will shame the family name. Maybe I should be thankful for that belief because if they didn't get married, I would probably be left with my mom earlier than expected.

You see, my dad isn't one of those rich family they were just an average family. My mom and dad met at a party of some common friend of theirs, they were having fun, not "fun" like what most of us know, it's more of a Rated-18 fun. The next morning, they just found themselves naked nest to each other, and later on, mom's parents found out because she got pregnant then tada! They wanted them to get married.

"Therese, you better know where yo–"

Before she could finish her statement, I decided to tell her that I know my place. That place is surely miles away from hers.

"Oh, I know where I stand and that place is away from you," I affirmed and grabbed the bag that I prepared.

I made my choice days before I come back from school. I knew that it's time to leave this place, I don't care if I become a broke college student because I've earned more than enough money for me to sustain my needs– well, at least for five months. Anyway, I can always find a new job or take portrait requests, I'm willing to do anything just to get away from her.

I can hear her warnings as I make the way out of my room. I don't feel threatened, not even a single bit.

"Once you step a foot outside, consider yourself as an orphan." I heard her final threat with authority laced on her voice.

An orphan? I already am an orphan when my dad died. Dad was the only one who took good care of me he was the reason why I loved art and its soul. In my childhood memories, my dad was a superhero while mom, on the other hand, was nothing but an irritating villain.

The moment I reached the front door, I stopped. Not to contemplate if I'm gonna leave or not, but to praise myself and welcome my new life outside this hell-ish mansion.

I opened the door and the bright light of the sun welcomed me together with the summer breeze which I loved the most.

"Goodbye, Alexis Generoso," I stated and walked away from the residence.

Her voice was audible from a distance, she's starting to call me ungrateful for everything. I'm indeed living a life that anyone would probably love, but to me, a life without my passion is like a pallet without paint. Dull and lifeless.