A Short Story
This is a snippet of a short story I wrote earlier. I am thinking of including it in Snapshots.
They had argued last night and this morning, bitter, fierce, sniping. Then silence reigned, a heavy, sullen blanket.
She came back in from cleaning out their chickens. He pointed to the microwave.
"Put it on for 30 seconds."
She started the microwave, looking a little puzzled. It bleeped, signalling the end. She looked at him.
"Take it out. It's yours."
She pulled out a plate of toast.
"Thank you."
"See, what an evil father you've got. He made you some toast because you were hungry and feeling like you were going to faint."
With an inward sigh, she cut two begrudged slices of cheese and ate it as a sandwich. She turned to the fridge and pulled out a carton of apple juice. With a brief laugh, she told him about last night at a meeting, where a friend had surprised her with apple juice instead of squash.
"I was so pleased because apple juice is my favourite drink!"
He glanced up.
"Oh, I bought you another carton of apple juice last night because I thought you hadn't got any more. What a wicked daddy you've got!"
Biting her lip, in silence she moved to the sink and began to wash the few breakfast things, knowing that later she would be scolded for not having dried them as well.
Staring down into the bubbly water, she fixed them with her intense, wistful gaze.
Thank you for caring for my physical needs. I do appreciate it. But I don't want that. I can live without it - and it spoils everything you've done when you shove it in my face. I hate it even more when you use it as a kind of indebtedness - 'I've done this and this for you, you should do this, this and this for me.' And when I give way a little, you try to throw all your responsibilities on me.
You wouldn't know that the type of love that draws the most from me is the silent kind, that cares for me inside and out without ever loudly proclaiming what it's done. You wouldn't even recognise me if you saw the inside me, because you've never cared to find out and you run away if I do try to show it.
Everything I do show you, you play back off against me at some point. Apple juice? Toast? I can survive without it. It's what you're starving me of inside that bothers me - and you can't even see. I love you as my dad, but I cannot give any more.
She put the last plate on the draining board and pulled off the gloves.
These are the words I wish someone would show you, but that I can never say.
Jane Johnson
5/3/11
They had argued last night and this morning, bitter, fierce, sniping. Then silence reigned, a heavy, sullen blanket.
She came back in from cleaning out their chickens. He pointed to the microwave.
"Put it on for 30 seconds."
She started the microwave, looking a little puzzled. It bleeped, signalling the end. She looked at him.
"Take it out. It's yours."
She pulled out a plate of toast.
"Thank you."
"See, what an evil father you've got. He made you some toast because you were hungry and feeling like you were going to faint."
With an inward sigh, she cut two begrudged slices of cheese and ate it as a sandwich. She turned to the fridge and pulled out a carton of apple juice. With a brief laugh, she told him about last night at a meeting, where a friend had surprised her with apple juice instead of squash.
"I was so pleased because apple juice is my favourite drink!"
He glanced up.
"Oh, I bought you another carton of apple juice last night because I thought you hadn't got any more. What a wicked daddy you've got!"
Biting her lip, in silence she moved to the sink and began to wash the few breakfast things, knowing that later she would be scolded for not having dried them as well.
Staring down into the bubbly water, she fixed them with her intense, wistful gaze.
Thank you for caring for my physical needs. I do appreciate it. But I don't want that. I can live without it - and it spoils everything you've done when you shove it in my face. I hate it even more when you use it as a kind of indebtedness - 'I've done this and this for you, you should do this, this and this for me.' And when I give way a little, you try to throw all your responsibilities on me.
You wouldn't know that the type of love that draws the most from me is the silent kind, that cares for me inside and out without ever loudly proclaiming what it's done. You wouldn't even recognise me if you saw the inside me, because you've never cared to find out and you run away if I do try to show it.
Everything I do show you, you play back off against me at some point. Apple juice? Toast? I can survive without it. It's what you're starving me of inside that bothers me - and you can't even see. I love you as my dad, but I cannot give any more.
She put the last plate on the draining board and pulled off the gloves.
These are the words I wish someone would show you, but that I can never say.
Jane Johnson
5/3/11
Support is so much more than money or labor... The best kind is love, pure, unconditional, self sacrificing love.
ReplyDeleteAmen to that.
ReplyDelete