The Face

The Face

Perhaps it is because we are too close to the people by our side, that, when time passes, we become unconscious of what we said and how we performed. In our inadvertent words and actions, the invisible blades of sarcasm and cruelty carve on people’s hearts; they are often ignored, while hurting the people we cared about for countless times. Even though the wound will heal rapidly, the scar of distress and sorrow barely disappears.

When I was walking under the dim streetlight outside the market two weeks ago, I saw a mother and a son who both looked agitated. The boy was almost the same age as me, his reddish face revealed his outraged state of mind. When I walked closer, the boy pointed his forefingers into her mother’s eyes and roared: “ You know nothing about me! I know what I am doing! Just leave me alone!” He turned around and trotted away, leaving his mother to freeze in the wind.  The woman shouted hoarsely to call him back, but the figure had vanished in the darkness. The teardrops, along with the snow, was glimmering when I looked at her face. I saw anxiety; I saw distress; I saw helplessness. All of a sudden in my mind, I saw another similar face.

That was the night after the parents-teacher conference. My mother sat opposite to me at the dinner table, gathering her grows into the frown. After she put down the chopsticks, she grabbed a glass of water in her hand and looked into my eyes. I knew exactly what she was going to say because I didn’t do well in my midterm exam. “ I will work harder and be better next time,” I said with a serious face and a persuasive tone before she opened her mouth. “ Next time, next time, and always next time. How many ‘next times’ do you have in your life,” my mother started to preach: “ Your math score is sixty-seven. Teacher told me that the class has reviewed the topics for half of the month. What are you doing in class?” “ The test was so hard. I know the principles, but I just can’t solve the problems.” “ What about your English,” she raised her volume and scolded: “Your English score is still below the average. I have hired the most expensive tutor for you, but did you do anything for yourself? Did you finish any practice tests? Did you memorize the vocab list? Have you ever thought about the reason why are your score always worse than the others?” A thought jumped into my mind: “Probably it is true that I was not hardworking enough.” However, instead of admitting it, I kept silence for a moment.

“I am not as clever as others. Wisdom is hereditary. I was born with less intelligence than others because you are inferior than other parents.” I started to laugh in my mind: “ Uh-huh! What a good explanation. Now you can stop blaming me.” I thought she would simply argue with me, but her response was too simple. She ‘put’ the glass of water on the table, then her arms powerlessly dropped to her sides. It was deadly silent except for the sound of glass crackling. Suddenly, the glass crumbled into the small pieces. She sat like a statue and let the water drop on her. I stared at her pale face: her lip was trembling, her breath was rapid, and her eyes were widely open. Tears slipped across her face and left a straight track. With that distressed face, she sat there for a whole night, until I come to her to apologize.

I will never forget that face, the face of a mother when being hurt by her own children. I will never forget that face, the face which keeps telling me that I was born with the same talent and wisdom as others. I will never forget that face, the face reminding me the power of verbal abuse.

I women I saw outside the market walked away with a heavy gait. When I got back to school, I did a video call with my mother. I saw her face. I saw happiness; I saw relief; I saw exhilaration. I hope that boy will see a similar face soon.