His Daddy didn't really understand. He never really had. He could see that now as the older man sighed wearily, running a calloused hand over his salt and pepper moustache, his pale eyes trying to grasp the situation. Upon seeing that he was not going to back down or make any move for that matter, he pushed the chair away from the table with a rusty screech, getting to his feet stiffly.
"Just, take a look at them and make up your mind." He muttered before limping out of the room, leaving his only son to stare at the kitchen table and the contents upon it. His gaze wasn't entirely focused, having slipped away minutes ago to watch the dust particles in the air around him, illuminated by the late spring sunshine. He took a deep, slow breath in, watching as they twirled towards him, before spinning away on his exhale. He felt like those particles at the moment; following everyone else beck and tow but his own. No one ever willing to listen to what he wanted to do. No one encouraging him to follow his own dreams. No one here to sort through this mess with him and persuade him just to burn it all. And boy, was he tempted to.
Reclining back in his seat, Clay continued to stare sadly at the stacks of paper, wishing for the simpler days to continue. What he wouldn't give right now to be back in China, just chilling with the others by the Koi pond. Heck, right now he'd even be happy with hunting for a new Sheng Gong Wu during feeding time. But no. No. Not even that one simple choice he had made for himself all those years ago could go ignored by his Daddy any longer. The man just had to come sweeping in, demanding for Clay to return back to the ranch to prepare for college.
Flexing his fingers absently, he glanced at the papers, trying not to frown. Once upon a time, he may have dreamed for this. The chance to go off and travel, to leave the ranch and see the world. Get an education, make some new friends, possibly meet a pretty girl or two. Heck he would have been happy moving two hours away into the city. But then he'd think of the ranch, and how every waking moment needed to spent on tending to it. As his Daddy would say, this is the real world, stop living in a daydream.
He liked to point out that he hadn't gone to college. That he had managed to complete all that Clay had dreamed of by the age of 26. And what was it he had done?
Slumping forward with a groan, Clay buried his face into their old cedar table top, wishing that this would all just disappear when he opened his eyes again. After a moment's thought, he cracked one eye open, only to let out a pitiful moan at the stack before re-establishing his face with the wood. It still had that faint earthy smell despite being the bearer of muddy boots, rich beef casseroles and drunken vomits. In a way, it reminded him of the temple, of the small patch of wispy cedar trees he would whittle under when homesick.
Oh, to be back there. He took back every complaint about being a Xiaolin Warrior. He'd much rather carry the weight of the world than wallow through college application forms. To kick Jack Spicer's ass one last time before touring campus after campus. To share a laugh with the others as they pulled pranks on Dojo instead of awkwardly meeting his new roommate. That was his life. Not this, pen on paper, eventually take over the family business crap.
He wasn't made for that. He may have dreamed for it years ago, but now all he pictured was the sun on his skin, the wind in his face as he soared (admittedly, uneasily) above the clouds, seeing the world with an open mind, a ready punch and in good company. It wasn't out of his system yet, the endless journey having been cut too short when his family saddled him with commitment.
Sighing he turned his head to look at the papers, regarding them for a long moment. Surely, they'd still be there when he was older. His Daddy didn't have a degree. But it wasn't too late for him to try was it? Flickering his gaze to out the window, to the floating dust particles, back to the applications, he couldn't help but smile wearily. Pushing himself up and away from the table, he readjusted his hat before patting the table comfortingly (and reassuringly to himself), murmuring a goodbye to the lingering ghosts before setting his shoulders back and calling out for his Daddy, mind finally made up.
The dust particles flurried in his wake, some resting on the undisturbed college forms. And there they could remain. After all, it could wait.