“Whenever I came home, she was usually standing right here.”
“Almost always.” He sat smoking at the kitchen table. The cartons he had brought were stacked against the wall, still folded up. He had neglected to buy packing tape. “It made it hard to sneak past if I’d been in a fight at school.”
“You used to get into a lot of fights,” his sister said. “Why was that?”
He shrugged. “Dad said to never take shit off of anybody.”
“Mom wouldn’t like that language, Neil.”
“Well, that’s how Dad put it to me, anyway.”
She knew he was lying.
Dear J Hardy,
It sounds like these two siblings have rather different memories of their parents. You make me want to know more.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Great scene that encompasses so much more. The packing cartons is a nicely subtle hint about why they’re there, and then you throw in that he neglected the tape (like always?) — neat little clue about his personality.
Still at loggerheads! Even on an occasion like this. Sad. I’d hate to be at the reading of the will.
The cartons packed sounds like the siblings are trying to find some closure after their mom has died. The dad sounds like a real character, the last sentence tells me of wardrobes filled with skeletons.
Wow. So much character and story in 100 words. This telling little snapshot feels like part of a much bigger piece.
I how much unsaid information is in this piece. How they still don’t get on, how she sees him as a bit of a loser, how their parents are both probably now dead. Just great.
Humorous.
Clearing up after Mum dies – so many families only meet up to do this and it never goes well.