9. Nine
9
NINE
ELIANA RICHARDS
High School, 2015
Diary Entry
Today had been “career orientation day” at school, meaning we got to listen to different people explaining to us the options that we had. Including someone from our government that gave us a brief introduction to the different agencies and how we would be able to join them. I’d known most of it before as my dream to join the CIA was developed years ago, but it was nice to know that other agencies have their own academies as well.
If I won’t get a CIA scholarship, maybe the FBI will give me one. Everything was better than begging Dad to pay for it.
I was convinced Dad would be happy when I told him that I decided to work for the CIA. As an agent, I’d save the world and solve crime cases. That was something he could be proud of.
But his reaction was different.
“You’re nothing but a better dressed cop then? Disappointing.”
Disappointing.
He’d really used that word.
But instead of letting this stop me, it gave me even more motivation to become the best.
But motivation and good grades alone won’t bring you to the farm, because if I won’t get a full scholarship, Dad would need to pay for it. And he made it very, very clear that he had no intention to do so.
I brought the topic up again at dinner which was the biggest mistake ever. He’d already drunk three beers at that time, which made him only scream at me louder than normal. But I wanted him to see that this was a good thing and that I was following a path that he could indeed be proud of.
I really need him to be proud.
But as you might have guessed correctly, that conversation did not turn out the way I wanted it to. I assume it was the beers that made him lose control quicker than usual, but I can still see him violently rising to his feet, the chair falling down behind him while he slammed his palms on the dinner table.
There was a specific look on his face and especially in his eyes that I will never forget.
“You only want my money, you ungrateful piece of shit!” were his exact words, and I couldn’t argue with that. If I don’t get the scholarship, then yes, I want his money. I need it, to be honest. Because how else would I be able to afford the career I was craving?
All my arguments about the potential scholarship didn’t do anything to calm him down, so the inevitable happened and he slapped me right across my face.
I’d deserve it, though.
I shouldn’t have brought the topic up once more.
Stupid me.
“Even your mom would be disappointed in you,” he had added, and I couldn’t disagree.
Mom always gave her best to raise a strong and independent woman, but she left us too early and couldn’t finish her work with me. I really wish I’d learned enough to make her proud and follow the path she would have liked for me, but we never had the chance to talk about it. When she died, all I cared about was how often a week I was able to see Mihaela so we could rant about hating school. There was no single thought wasted on what we want to do after graduation.
Everything is different now that she is gone.
I want to become the strong and independent woman she always wanted me to be, and for that, I needed to choose a career path that would make her proud.