Sunday, 18 May
 |
| Mom's Day |
Good Morning
Jessicca…
Mollie blew
into the kitchen with shower damp hair. Where’s
the mug? Chirp’s bowl of sweet crunchies
sat at the table, half eaten, now bloated with milk. Drake’s X-Men
issue opened to a jelly smear, missing from its toast. Mollie searched the counter – toaster and
blender tangled in cords, glasses stuffed with spoons and forks, congested plates,
napkin crumplings, Saturday’s crusted waffle iron ajar. Mollie yanked her mug free from the sink’s wedged
pots. Laughter came from the TV room.
“Drake! Where’s the coffee?”
“I’ll get
right on it, Hon.”
“I gotta go.”
“Oh, my God. Look at the time. You’re late.”
“You think?”
“Nuke what’s
left in the pot”
“No
time. Taking it cold.”
“Chirp come
say good-bye to your Mom.”
“Bye
Mom. Happy Birthday!”
“Thanks,
dear. Hugs and kisses.”
“Have a
great day at work, Mollie. Thinking of
you.”
“Pay the
power, Drake.”
“Don’t worry,
sweetheart. I’m hand delivering it. Happy Birthday. Drive safe.”
Dad and
daughter waved Mollie out the driveway. They
watched her drive the length up Duckworth Lane, turn towards town, then out of
sight. Dad turned to Chirp.
“Let’s make
lemonade.”
The sun silhouetted
the field’s brush as Mollie pulled into her drive. The car’s door lurched open with a
groan. Mollie sat for a moment
collecting her strength. It was dark
inside beyond the screen door. There
wasn’t a sound. She made her way to the
front porch, taking care to avoid the loose second step. She stepped inside.
“Hello. Drake?
Chirp? Anyone home?”
Mollie’s eyes slowly adjusted to the
gloom. Chirp’s ostrich-feather hat still
sat on the sofa. She looked towards the
darkened hall leading to the bedrooms. She
shuddered as a rabbit ran up her back.
“Drake!”
Mollie
turned towards the kitchen. It held a
low glow.
“Come on
guys. Stop messing around.”
She stepped
through the door. A single light
flickered from the table.
“Happy
Birthday, Mom.”
Love,
Dad
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