by Rebecca Livesey
“He always had to be different!” Father cursed, glaring at his feet as he kicked at a pebble.
Mum sighed. “Yes, different,” she murmured gazing at the puffs of clouds, unbound above her.
“Of all the stupid, selfish things...” Father bowed his head, swallowing back the words.
“He wanted to be free.” Mum raised her face to catch the last glow of sun. “Be free baby.” The whispered words lifted on the wind.
Father choked back a sob and swiped at a tear tracing down his cheek. “This is all your fault!”
Mum’s eyes, drowning in grief but offering peace, turned to his.
Uncaring Father raged. “You and your stupid ideas. Feeding them to him. Telling him he could do anything. Telling him he could be anything. Now look what’s happened!”
Abruptly he swung away and sank down on the old wooden bench in our yard. His shoulders hunched over and great guttural cries shuddered through his body. After a moment Mum hurried to him, lifting his face, kissing away his tears. He reached for her and they wrapped up together, holding tight.
“Godammit!” I swear under my breath even though I know they can’t hear me. I thought this would be over by now. Frustration boils through me. I just need one of them to cave. One of them to move on.
Forgiveness or condemnation. Up or down. I've given up caring which. Well nearly.
I keep climbing, going nowhere.