Ken walked hurriedly, trying to get home before his parents. His parents usually returned from work by 5 pm, and according to his smartwatch, he had to be home in 10 minutes. He broke into a run and didn't stop until he was close to home. He halted in shock and stared in disbelief at his mother's car parked in the driveway. Oh boy, he thought to himself, scratching his head.
Ken decided to sneak into the house. If he was quiet enough, no one would notice he'd come home later than usual. He'd successfully entered the house and even made it up the stairs when he heard a voice behind him. “Ken, where have you been? You're later than usual today” Ken froze at the sound of his mother's voice. “Ummm, I had a few topics I wanted to read up on, so I went to the library,” Ken replied hurriedly.
His mother's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and Ken instantly felt bad about lying to her. He had actually been at football practice with his school team, and he had been lying about it for a long while. The only reason why he was doing this was because Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, his parents, were the scholarly types. They valued science and academics and thought every other thing didn't matter.
The Pattersons were dentists and had a huge busy dental clinic, and somehow it had been concluded that Ken would take over from them or study any medical course. So at a very young age they'd focused on everything surrounding science and dentistry, and even though Ken had always loved sports as a kid, they discouraged him and forbade it. So when Ken had gotten old enough, he learned to play in school secretly, joined the school team, and kept it a secret.
He was also an active member of the math club, an outstanding student with good grades, and a fake member of the science team. He was a fake member because he refused to participate in their activities, even though he was smart enough to, but his parents thought he participated actively. “So how was school, and when is the science fair coming up?” his mother asked. Ken faked enthusiasm as he replied to her and then went into his room. He quickly freshened up and headed to the kitchen to help his parents prepare dinner.
Saturday was hectic for Ken; his parents had decided on taking him to a science convention, and he couldn't back out of it because he always went with them. But he also had football practice from 10 am to 12 pm, and he couldn't afford to miss it either. So he came up with a lie that the science team was meeting to discuss their various projects for the fair at school, and he couldn't miss it. To his alarm, his parents informed him that the program would begin by 1 pm, and they wouldn't mind being a few minutes late. So they would drive him to school and wait for him.
Ken had no choice but to accept, because it had become something of a family tradition for him to accompany them for things like these. After the programs, they would have dinner at a nice restaurant and see a sci-fi movie before returning home. He, however, convinced them to wait for him at home instead of accompanying him to school, and his parents agreed. At practice he tried to focus so that he would be let off early, and it worked.
He quickly rushed home afterward, showered, changed, and the trip with his parents began. He paid attention to the different speakers at the convention because he knew his parents would ask him questions later. Ken sighed at some point and wished his parents would stop trying to make his life revolve around science. Other career choices were good too, and it didn't mean his life would be a waste. He was a superb player, and he really loved the game of football.
He knew it was wishful thinking because his parents were nerds and had nurtured him from childhood to follow in their footsteps in any medical field. Music, sports, and art were frowned upon in their household and considered distractions by his parents. At 6pm, the convention ended, and they headed to an Italian restaurant for dinner, after which it was movie time. By the time they got home, Ken was exhausted and headed to bed to sleep.
He spent Sunday playing games on his laptop and chatting with his friends. He hid in his room for most of the day, and his parents believed he was busy with his books. On Monday morning, he was glad to be back in school with his friends. It was lunchtime when the football coach called him into his office.
“Hi Ken, how was the weekend?” Coach Dan asked, smiling from ear to ear.
“Meh,” Ken replied, shrugging. “Coach, are you okay? You're smiling a lot, and the only time you smile is when we win. Which we always do, of course.”
“Thanks to a wonderful team and a great captain like you, Ken,” Coach said, “so I'll go straight to the point: there's a football scholarship offer for you to a renowned university. Ken, you're a fantastic, gifted player, and your grades are perfect. You should take the offer and possibly go pro from there.” Coach replied.
Ken sat still in his chair, different emotions going through his face. He knew he would have to think about college and what he wanted for his future, but he had been trying to ignore doing that for a long while. “Okay, that's not the reaction I was expecting,” Coach Dan said. “Talk to me, son, what's the matter?” By the time Ken was done explaining things, the coach whistled and understood why he hadn't seen Ken's parents at any of their games.
“Young man, I understand your predicament, and I know you'll excel in anything you opt for. But think about how fulfilled you'll be in whatever you decide to become in the future. Umm, would it help if I talked to your parents?” Coach Dan asked.
“I don't know, coach; I've been lying to them all this while about being in science club…” Ken replied, looking sad.
When Ken and his coach broke the news to his parents later that evening, they were angry at Ken for lying to them and told Coach Dan that they wouldn't accept the offer. They urged Ken to focus on his books and take his studies seriously, as they'd already decided long ago that he would attend the same college his father and mother had attended.
“Please, Mr. & Mrs. Patterson, your son has an athletic gift. In my 23 years of coaching, I haven't seen many boys as passionate and as talented as your son.” Coach Dan pleaded on behalf of Ken, who was sitting beside him, trying not to shed tears.
“Thank you, Mr. Dan, but we're his parents, and we know what's best for him. We raised him and have also tried to impress upon him the importance of academics and the opportunities of a good career path. So, like we said earlier, Ken will NOT be accepting the offer,” his father replied with a tone of finality.
“Okay, Mr. Patterson, but please, we have a game this Friday. I beg you to let Ken play for the last time, and please endeavor to come and watch your son play.” Coach Dan replied, standing up to leave. “Goodnight, Mr. and Mrs. Patterson.”
“Goodnight, Coach Dan, and thank you for trying to help,” Ken replied and offered to walk his coach to his car.
Ken watched him drive off and headed back into the house. He could hear his parents whispering, “I still can't believe he would lie to us; he shouldn't even be interested in sports. Not after the way we raised him,” his mother said in amazement. His father grunted out a reply that Ken didn't hear except for the last part of the sentence: “…nature vs. nurture, I guess.” Ken cleared his throat and stepped into the living room.
“Mum, Dad, I know you both want what's best for me, and I'm deeply grateful for all you've done for me. You know I will definitely excel in the profession that you both have chosen for me. But I love football. Can I please give it a try? Then if it doesn't work out, I'll do whatever you guys want. I promise,” Ken pleaded with them.
“Enough, Dan! Friday is the last day we'll ever discuss sports in this house, and that's it. You'll focus on your studies and pass your exams. Don't worry, son, you'll thank us in the future,” his father replied.
Ken nodded and headed up the stairs to his room; he wasn't going to give up that easily. He knew what he wanted for himself, and the path his parents chose for him definitely wasn't it.
