the experience of attending a romantic play, seen from two differing viewpoints of a father and his daughter

The Father

She knows that I have lots of work to do. I told her myself, just last night. But she just had to tell Siti that it was I, not her, that was going to take her to this play. “It's her birthday,” she said, “why don't you take her out? For a change?

“Besides, she really wants to go and, well, you do want to see her happy, right?”

That last phrase of her had a slightly threatening overtone to it, so I agreed, and here I am: dressed to the nines, sitting in a darkened theatre, watching a romantic play with my daughter. I never liked romantic plays, to be honest. They're always so cliche and nearly every character or plot device is either done to death or only a slight (and by slight I mean slight) “twist” to the cliche.

This play isn't an exception. Look at it: you have your star-crossed lovers, you have your ever-present disapproving family, you have your instance of platonic intimacy while watching leaves fall from a tree, it's all just so . . . typical, so common, so overdone. Let's just say there's nothing about this play that I'll remember tomorrow night, that's for sure. I don't know why people keep coming to these plays.

And to think I could be sitting inside my office at home—sipping a mug of Nescafe, no doubt—while finishing up all the work I have yet to do.

But when I turn to look at Siti, I see that she's smiling, engrossed in the tale, and I can see in her eyes that she's enjoying the “spectacle” (to borrow a phrase from the promotional flyer she handed to me), so, well, I guess I could try and survive this. For her.

The Daughter

I'm so happy that I'm going at the play tonight! I'm happy that I'm here with dad, too, because I don't see enough of him sometimes. He's so busy with his PDA and pointing at things with his stylus that sometimes it feels like he doesn't care.

But I know he does, or else why would he bring me here?

I like how he's dressed even more fancily than I am: I'm not used to these kinds of things, so I put on a simple dress and that was that, but dad, well . . . I've been to many weddings and I don't think I've seen anyone dressed up as well as he is! Hahaha. It's funny. I don't think I've ever seen him dressed up this well.

And it's just a play!

Oh well, it's not like it's a bad thing . . .

This really is a great play: I love the storyline and the characters and oh my God, that scene with them sitting under the tree watching the leaves fall was just so, so cute! This whole play feels so magical, so . . . wonderful. Thank God dad brought me here, this is an experience I'll never forget.

I wish there was a boy who'd love me like the boy in the play does. I really do. We'd cuddle together under a tree and do nothing and say nothing, but just sit there and watch the clouds pass over our heads.

But then I catch a glimpse of dad out of the corner of my eye and I realize that I don't really need a boy to love me. At least, not yet. After all, dad's still around, and he loves me.

. . . Right?