Voyage | Teen Ink

Voyage

January 29, 2022
By byuk729 BRONZE, Commack, New York
byuk729 BRONZE, Commack, New York
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Start

It’s the beginning of a long voyage; a search for the fabled treasure of infinite wealth.  The weather is perfect: 70 degrees, gusts of wind blowing east, and vast stretches of blue skies dotted with plump clouds. The majestic ship, illuminated by the glittering sun, is on full display. Oak planks are flawlessly woven together like cogs in an artisan watch, providing a solid base. Towering masts extend out of the top of the hull, standing firm. Tied to the masts are the sails, freely fluttering with the wind, like a butterfly in flight. At noon, the ship retracts its anchor, sailing straight into the distance.

Paper cranes. That’s all I could think about the week leading up to my mom’s birthday in May.

I recently took an origami class, learning basic techniques. At the end of the class, the teacher mentioned an advanced fold that captivated me- the majestic paper crane. It was far more difficult than the simple cats and dogs we created, but I knew it would be the perfect gift.

That night, I searched the internet for step by step guides to fold paper cranes. While scrolling through websites, I noticed an intriguing ornament that cleverly incorporated 10 paper cranes. Mom would love that! Without hesitation, I plopped into my chair, found colorful paper, and began to fold.

For an entire week, I spent all of my precious free time eagerly toiling away at my personal project. I made sure each fold was precisely lined up, with no rips or stray creases. If I made any slight errors, I completely restarted the process. It was frustrating work, but the payoff made the struggle worth it.

On the night before my mother’s birthday, I completed the ornament. Satisfied with my work, I gingerly placed the present in a gift box. Exhausted from the week-long endeavor, I collapsed onto my bed. Mom’s going to be so happy!

When I woke up, it was the morning of my mother’s birthday. I sprung out of my bed, filled to the brim with excitement. I swiftly grabbed the present from my closet and rushed into my mom’s room.

“Good morning, Mama, it’s your birthday!” I said, grinning ear to ear.

“Oh. Good morning, Bao Bei,” my mom said, still groggy, lying on her bed.

“I made you a present!”

I revealed the gift box from behind my back. Upon viewing the gift box, my mom’s demeanor changed. She immediately sat up with a straightened posture, completely alert.

“Really? You’re kidding right?”

“Mama, I’m not. Here you go!”

I put the present into my mom’s hands. Skeptical, she slowly unveiled the ornament, delicately lifting off the top of the box. My masterpiece was finally revealed.

My mom was speechless, face mostly stolid. She wasn’t one to wear her heart on her sleeve. Even so, I noticed a tinge of a smile form on her lips. Her usually dull eyes showed hints of brightness. After a short pause, she spoke.

“Thank you so much, Bao Bei.”

“No problem, Mama, I-”

My mom wrapped her arms around me, cutting me off. I was shocked. Her touch emitted a bright radiance that permeated through me. It was the first time I witnessed such vibrant colors on her typically monochromatic palette.

30°

A few weeks have passed since the ship set sail. For the past few weeks, luck has smiled upon the ship, providing beautiful sailing weather. An uncommon occurrence, but not impossible. Unfortunately, the streak ends today. The dots of white have grown into smears of gray on the blue sky. The gusts of winds have changed direction, tilting the direction of the ship by 30°. Although the arrival time has been slightly delayed, no major problems have arisen. So far, the ship has taken no structural damage.

“Bryan, we’re watching a movie right now!” my mom called. “We’ll wait for you.”

“Okay, coming soon!” I called back.

It was family movie night in the middle of the pandemic. With everyone forced indoors, it was an opportunity to share a good laugh or cry; a chance to get closer with your loved ones.

But I had no intention of watching the movie with my family that night. To escape from the terrifying and cynical reality I lived in, I escaped into a virtual one. Almost every waking hour was spent gaming on my computer. With only so much time in a day, I couldn’t balance anything else. 

After 10 minutes, my mom, slightly aggravated, called for me.

“Where are you Bryan?!?! What are you doing?!”

I was in the middle of a match. I couldn’t stop halfway through, no matter the sacrifice. With no contemplation, I decided to lie.

“I’m really tired tonight, I think I’m going to go to bed early tonight.”

I planned it all out. “Titanic” was around three hours long. I would play for two, then go to sleep. This way, my family would think I was telling the truth. But, with any addict, control doesn’t exist. One match turned to two, which turned to three. Right before my fourth match, I felt like I was being watched. I turned to my bedroom door. My mom was staring right at me, expressionless.

In my mind, I wasn’t the one at fault. She was clearly the problem. What person doesn’t go to bed this late? Why does my mom always have to check on me? She should stop being so overprotective! Just let me have some f---

ing fun!!!

I braced myself for my mother’s fury, expecting a lecture. Let’s just get this over with.

However, my mom remained mute; eyes locked in with mine.

Although she didn’t say anything, her eyes told me everything. They told me of her feelings of disappointment and sadness. They couldn’t believe I betrayed her trust, appalled with my behavior. When they finished, my mom walked to her room.

Ironically, this spoke to me clearer than any words could. For a moment, I reflected on my actions. I really screwed up today, didn’t I? Maybe taking a break from gaming would for the best.

But all feelings of regret were lost in my confused mind. I have A’s in all my classes so video games shouldn’t be blamed. I need some free time to myself. At worst, I played a little extra today.

 

I went to bed, disgustingly content with myself.

 

A Ripped Sail

A day has passed since the ship has veered slightly off course. Unluckily, the ship has been caught in the beginning of a storm. Over the span of hours, The dazzling sun is replaced by a giant conglomerate of overcast looming over the ship. Rain is starting to fall, blemishing the once clear horizon.The breezy gusts have strengthened into powerful winds, ripping the sail on the foremast. Although the ship can still move forward, it’s pace is greatly slowed down. The worst is yet to come.

“Bryan, wake up! Time for school!” An aroma of bacon and eggs wafted into my room.

“Already?

It was the first day of school since quarantine, the beginning of my junior year. After a year in isolation, saying I was excited for school was an understatement. Deprived of any real social interaction for almost a year, I was ecstatic.

I jumped out of my bed and carried out my morning routine. After devouring breakfast, my mom told me to grab my school bag and wait for her outside. We had to take the annual first-day of school photo.

I grabbed my bag and waltzed out the door. After a few minutes, my mom followed suit.

“Bryan, why are you so excited?” she teased. “We’re only going to school!”

“Mama, would you prefer me depressed?” I retorted.

She laughed, “I’m only joking!”

After taking the photo, my mom drove me to school. I eagerly exited the car door, almost forgetting the pleasantries.

“Bye Bryan, Have a good day at school!”

“Okay, bye Mom! Love you!”

As soon as I left the car, I felt a shiver down my spine. Everyone is watching me. I need to act normal. Refusing to embarrass myself, I consciously calculated the length of each stride, making sure each step was uniform. I made sure my arms were swinging within a certain arc, not flailing too wide or narrow. I could not afford to attract the attention of anyone.

The simple task of walking to my first class turned into a gargantuan effort. Every move I made had to be perfect, or else I faced public ridicule. After trudging through the halls, I finally made it to my first class.

I awkwardly stumbled into my seat, tripping over my feet. I immediately started panicking. How could I screw up? Did anyone see me? After surveying my classmates, I realized no one noticed. I felt a wave of relief overcome me. Thank God. That was a little too close for comfort.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! The first period bell rang. Class was about to start.

“Hello everyone!” my teacher beamed. “Let’s start the day off with introductions.”

Okay. Introductions. I’ve done this a million times. No stress. One by one, students introduced themselves. At last, it was time for me to go.

“Hello! What’s your name, and can you say two things about yourself?” my teacher said with enthusiasm.

As I stood up, I felt a tenseness in my leg like an overwound guitar string. Any movement I performed felt unnatural, like learning something for the first time. My speaking was muddy and suffocated, like bricks smothered in concrete.

“Hello. My name is Bryan, I have an older brother, a-and I have a dog named Coco.”

I quickly sat down, ashamed of my momentary stutter. I’m so awkward. What’s wrong with me? Even though no one showed any reaction, I knew they were secretly mocking me, taking pleasure in my stupid mistake. Look at everyone silently patronizing me. You guys can’t escape me! I know what you’re doing!

Infuriated, I vowed to never show any sign of weakness again. Throughout the day, I focused all my energy on uniformity, ensuring I fit in with everyone. If I allocated any energy to anything else, I risked sticking out.

At the end of the school day, my mom picked me up. In a familiar environment, I relaxed, easing the tension of forcibly acting all day. With peace on my mind, a new problem arose. I really went the whole day without talking to any of my friends. Why was I so antisocial?

 Noticing my conflict, my mom tried to ease my self-doubt.

“How was everything today? Is there anything you want to talk about?”

How am I going to show my face tomorrow? What does everyone think of me?

“Bao Bei, I’m talking to you,” her voice was perfectly level, even with my ignorant attitude.

I think I lost some friends today. Why was I so scared of everything?

“Bao Bei, if you need anything-“

“What do you want?” I impatiently interjected.

“Bryan, I’m just trying to help. Just tell me what happened.” Her voice remained calm.

My anger was reaching its tipping point. First, she lurks around, trying to catch me playing video games. Now, she wants to know everything about my personal life. Why is she so overprotective?

“Nothing, Mom, Thanks anyway!” I said, faking a smile.

She saw right through me. “Bryan, you’ve changed. Remember when you made me origami for my birthday? You used to be so sweet, but now it feels like you don’t love me anymore. Where did my Bao Bei go? What hap-“

I snapped. “Stop trying to make me feel guilty! You’re acting like this is all my fault! Maybe if you were a better mother your Bao Bei would still be here!”

“Ok, I’m sorry.” She muttered under her breath.

Good. She’ll finally leave me alone. I was hurt, oblivious to the weight of my words.

 

Storm

Marked by the deafening roar of a thunderclap, the ship is now in the center of the storm. In a matter of mere seconds, massive tsunamis have erupted, repeatedly pummeling the ship with no avail. Destructive gales ragdoll the ship, unraveling the intricate craftsmanship of the vessel with each gust. Sheets of rain rapidly pour from the sky, impairing any visibility. The ship is barely staying afloat, with no clear path forward. Although sinking seems inevitable, a faint ray of light can barely be seen in the distance.

“Slow down

‘Cause you're movin’ too fast for the world

You’re gonna miss out

Slow down

‘Cause you’re movin’ too fast for the world

You’re gonna miss out”                                                                                                                                                                                  

I felt a light touch on my shoulder. I paused my music and turned to see my father standing in the doorway. His face was unnaturally stiff, almost as if he was forcing himself to maintain composure. With an almost indistinguishable shakiness in his breath, he eventually spoke.

“Bryan, can you come to the living room?”

 A faint, irregular noise could barely be heard in the distance.

“What do you want? I thought I told you I had homework.” I said, barely masking my annoyance.    

My father stood there, saying nothing in response. My patience for him was reaching its breaking point. He can’t possibly be toying with me while I’m finishing my homework. There’s no way he’s this insensitive.

More time passed with my father in the same place, unmoved. He still didn’t speak. He really has the audacity to call for me and say nothing. My tolerance for him broke.

“What could be this important for you to distract me? If you have to say something, say it,” I exclaimed; anger fully fleshed out.

He took a deep breath, finally managing to speak.

“Lao Lao passed away.”

What?        

I rushed downstairs, seeking answers.

As I made my way down the stairs, the mysterious noise gradually intensified with each step. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, the vague noise I heard earlier was magnified to a point where it was distinguishable. It was the sound of a low, gut-wrenching sob.

I sprinted to the source of the sound, demanding clarity on the situation. Is Mom okay? When I got there, I saw my mom, shriveled up, hunched over on the couch, shaking uncontrollably. Her volatile, disjointed cries confirmed the truth. Lao Lao passed away.

Tears cascaded from my eyes. I could no longer filter my feelings in concentrated bursts. Facing the truth ignited a fuse inside me, releasing all my pent-up emotions in a scattered explosion. I was a complete mess, conscious thought overwhelmed. Anything I did from this point on was instinctual.

I dragged myself to my mother’s location. As soon as I was within an arm's distance of her, she latched onto me, head buried in my arms.

“Lao Lao’s gone!” she sniffled. “She’s gone!”

Her sobs against my chest manifested an emotion so powerful it diffused into me. It had a nostalgic feel to it, almost as if it happened before. I remembered the caring child who loved his mother unconditionally. I remembered who I was.

“I know Mom, I know. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m here,” I comforted her.

“B-Bao B-Bei? Is that you? Are you really here?”

“Don’t worry Mama. I’m here.”

New Beginning

Miraculously, the ship made it through the storm barely intact. The masts have completely toppled over, like clusters of trees after a hurricane. Even if they still stood, it wouldn’t make a difference. The sails are torn apart, shredded to millions of tiny pieces. The once perfectly sound base is now littered with leaks and holes, a shadow of its former glory. The quest seems like a complete failure.

“Come on guys, let’s sit over here,” my mom ushered us to seats near the front.

Around a year has passed. My brother just got accepted into college, and we were at the launch party for his school. Speeches were about to begin.

Ughhhhh. Even though I would much rather be spending my weekend doing virtually anything else, I decided to go into the event with an open mind. Maybe it’ll interest me.

The first speaker triumphantly marched to the podium. With a confident grin, he began speaking.

“Hello everyone!” he boomed.

I was captivated by his charisma from his first phrase. He had my full attention.

He simply gave advice based on his experiences. It wasn’t an “American Dream” story where you lose everything, receive a quick five-minute pep talk, then return with a billion-dollar business. He constantly failed, hitting rock bottom again and again. However, with each failure, he learned something. As he gained more knowledge, he finally succeeded.  

On the car ride home, I wrestled with the question. What do I need to succeed?

No matter how long I thought, I had no idea. Angered by my stupidity, I glanced out the window.

Under the streetlights, I saw a reflection of myself. Intrigued, I took a closer look. I started contemplating my decisions, everything that occurred for me to get to this point. Realizing the gap between my past and present self, I had an epiphany.

What I had been searching for had been with me the whole time. The treasure of infinite wealth presented itself in my own experiences. Unlike anything I could receive, my personal trove of wisdom, which slowly accumulated with every failure or success, is priceless.


The author's comments:

Bryan Y. is a high school junior from Long Island, New York. When he's not creatively writing, you can find him watching K-Dramas, listening to experminetal hip-hop, or eating ice cream. 


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