Misunderstandings

         The whole conversation started with tennis. "Our goal for this summer is to get Sarah into the number two singles spot for the high school tennis team." my father said.
         My mother swallowed a spoonful of rice and replied, "Politically, that's not going to happen."
         "But it would be nice to try." my father argued. I sat there, silently eating my dinner, listening to my parents talk about my older sister and tennis. In all due respect, the conversation was boring me. My parents appeared incapable of thinking about anything other than Sarah. Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. Everything was always about Sarah.
         "I don't think she'll get the number two singles spot. After all, she'll have to beat Monica. And even if she does beat her, the coach won't give her the spot unless the defeat is embarrassing." my mother reasoned. They didn't seem to realize that my sister was sitting next to me at the dinner table, pretending not to hear them.
         I decided to say something then. "You really aren't a nice person, are you?" I asked sarcastically.
         My father said, "That's just how it is with sports. There's a winner, and there's a loser. You can't be nice or else you'll be the one losing." He paused for a moment. "We should have Kim play squash. It'll help with her badminton game. She could even get a squash scholarship." Sarah took a slice of bread from her plate and stood.
         "I'm finished." she said, and left. I watched her leave, wishing I could do the same.
         "Kim doesn't want a squash scholarship, Mark. You know that."
         "Then she can get a badminton scholarship."
         "Come on, Mark... She doesn't want to do anything like that."
         "But then she can go to any college she wants. Like that one college has the best East Asian studies program in the country..."
         "I don't want to do the Asian studies program anymore." I interrupted. It was about time for them to stop deciding what my life was going to be like. My life was my own, not something for my parents to choose.
         "Oh. Then what are you going to do?" my father asked, sounding like an idiot.
         "I'm going to do Japanese, art, and computer science."
         My mother chuckled. "Why do you want to take those three? They're so unrelated."
         I replied coolly, "I intend to move to Japan." My parents both laughed, not realizing that they were hurting my feelings. They didn't seem to know that I was always serious about my dreams. Every time they rejected my dreams, it hurt a little inside.
         "You're never going to get to move to Japan. Are you crazy? Japan's not like the United States. They don't like non-Japanese people living there." Seeing my serious expression, my father added, "You won't be able to become president there."
         "I don't want to become president, and I am still going to Japan."
         "But you can't become president there."
         "If I became president, I would do more harm for America than good." I joked, trying to get my point across. Instead, my parents took this as an offense.
         "Kim, that's not a nice thing to say." my mother scolded. "If you say that in front of your friends' parents, they won't let you be friends anymore. People who talk about stuff like that are the social outcasts and don't have any friends."
         "I'm not stupid enough to say that in front of their parents, obviously."
         "Well, you shouldn't even say that kind of stuff in front of your friends, either. They'll think you're weird, and if they tell a teacher you'll get suspended."
         I rolled my eyes. My father was apparently not intelligent enough to grasp the idea of a joke. "My friends wouldn't do that."
         "But if they got mad at you, they could do anything to get you in trouble." My father pointed out, trying to be smart.
         "My friends are not cowards."
         This time, my mother took the offensive. "You can't just assume things about your friends like that, Kim."
         "You already did that once, and that didn't get you anywhere." my father added. I twitched. It seemed that they brought up that stupid elementary school conflict whenever they could. "Don't make the same mistakes."          
         With that last statement, I felt unnaturally and uncontrollably angry. "I learned a lot from that experience. It wasn't a mistake, and I am definitely not going to repeat it again!" I gripped the arm of my chair until my knuckles turned white.
         "Kim, why are you so angry? The fact that you made a mistake is the truth. You ended up hurting other people and mistreating your friends!"
         My anger was replaced by cold fury. I tried to keep my voice level, but it kept quivering. "I know what happened. I know more about my own experiences than you will ever know."
         My father pounded the table. "Be quiet! You know nothing!"
         I would have said something, but I knew better. I knew much more than he or my mother could ever imagine. I knew my own emotions, my own friends, my own mistakes. I quietly stood and walked to the kitchen. I left my dishes in the sink and locked myself into my room.