Fearless The King Series Book One - By Tawdra Kandle Page 0,106
that at some point my opinion of what was best and theirs were going to part ways. Could I handle that gracefully, so that my mother and father realized that it wasn’t them I was rejecting—just their view of my talent? I wasn’t sure yet.
Dinner that night was subdued. Our conversation stuck to the generalities, and I could feel the unease that both of my parents were experiencing. I realized that what I had said to my mother this afternoon went counter to everything they wanted for me, which was only a normal life. I needed them to understand that maybe I wasn’t designed for normal.
“So…” I began, trying to keep the nerves out of my voice, “Mom, I’m sorry if I got a little… ummm, testy with you this afternoon. I know that you’re just worried, both of you.”
They exchanged relieved glances, and I heard, Oh, good, she’s being reasonable. That’s the daughter we know. Thank heavens… It would be so easy to just let it go at that, to let them think that I agreed and was continuing to go along with their guidelines. But I knew that wouldn’t accomplish what we both needed in the long run, and if I valued my relationship with them, I had to be as honest as I could be.
“But,” I continued with resolve in my voice, “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m old enough now to make my own decisions about the best way to use my talents. My ability. You’ve sheltered and shielded me when I didn’t know any better, when I would have gotten into real trouble, not knowing how to use it. But hearing thoughts—that’s not just something to hide and try to suppress—it’s part of me, it’s part of who I am. And when I feel ashamed of it, I’m feeling ashamed of myself. I don’t want to live my life that way.”
There was silence around the table. The unease my parents had been feeling had given way to surprise and confusion. I had never bucked them about anything involving my abilities, so this was completely new territory for all of us.
Finally my dad spoke. “Tas… that’s a very interesting point. Your mom and I—we’ve never wanted you to feel ashamed of what you can do, of who you are. But you’re also right that we don’t see it as part of who you are—you are so much more than that to us. If you were handicapped in some way, we wouldn’t want that to define you. And this shouldn’t either. With a little work, you should be able to lead a completely normal life—”
“What if I don’t want normal?” I interrupted. “As a matter of fact, why would I want normal? Our family has never been typical. We move constantly. I’ve never had friends until this year. I can hear what other people are thinking. I can feel what they’re feeling. That’s not normal, Dad. And for the first time, I’m thinking that maybe it’s a good thing, not something I need to hide.”
My mother looked troubled. “But Tasmyn, flaunting your gift could put you at real risk. Things like this aren’t the same as—I don’t know, being able to speak several languages, or being a math genius. This is a talent that can be so easily exploited. Telling anyone at all is really very dangerous for you.”
This was my opening. I drew in a deep breath. “That isn’t precisely true, Mom. You’re right that making a big deal of it and telling everyone would be wrong. But sharing this—this part of me, of who I am, with someone, with people I trust—it’s not wrong. And it’s not dangerous. I know that for sure.”
Now the silence took on an entirely new depth. I swallowed nervously, as I felt what I’d just said register in their minds.
“Tasmyn… are you saying… you’ve told someone already?” My mother’s tone was frightened and incredulous.
“I hope you mean that you’re thinking about doing it, and you know, of course, that your mom and I discourage that as strongly as we can.” My father leaned more toward disapproval in his fear.
I bit my lip nervously. “I mean, I didn’t necessarily tell someone. But… someone… guessed.”
“And am I correct in assuming that someone was Michael?”
I nodded, unable to trust my voice.
My father heaved a long and heavy sigh. I couldn’t discern whether it was disapproval or disappointment… perhaps a bit of both.
“When did this happen? Was it part of last night’s events?”