Silence . . . Grows

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

Dinner was terse.

Another Tuesday night, another dinner hosted by my parents. Generally, I looked forward to our Tuesday nights. My parents were both good cooks. I loved both of them, though it took me a long time to grow up and appreciate them.

Financially, I'm not successful but they've always been proud of me.

My mom glowered at her plate. I wasn't sure if she was finding fault with my dad's choice of barbecuing the chicken, or just trying to.

The tenseness had been there before I walked in. They were both cordial to me but there was a brittleness between them. I'd found out the story from them separately: My dad had cancelled plans with my mom abruptly to help Tom, who was on his death bed; cancer-ridden. This makes my mom sound cruel but my dad had been doing this semi-regularly for weeks. I understood.

I wanted to help them but I didn't know how. Mere talking seemed ineffectual. It wasn't like when friends are fighting--I didn't feel like I had the authority to even bring it up.

We ate in silence.


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Comments (2 so far!)

Average reader rating 5.00/5

ElshaHawk LoA

ElshaHawk LoA

Tough. But cancer is a bad thing. Maybe mom needs to help WITH Dad.

  • #1416 Posted 6 years ago
  • 0


Ouch. Quite a bit of this definitely resonates with me on a personal level.

Good job!

  • #1417 Posted 6 years ago
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  • 5 out of 5
  • Published 6 years ago.
  • Story viewed 16 times and rated 1 times.

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