Fiction #2 by Meka
A fictional short story of love. A woman and her daughter locked in a battle of wills–struggling to be heard. Who will win?
Didn’t I tell you not to scream inside? Must I chide you for screaming inside. This is a place of peace and quiet, so respect it. No screaming inside!
Child, have you no pride? People can hear you screaming outside. What will they say? You’ll be a lady someday, and ladies don’t scream outside!
One of several versions of the painting “The Scream”. The National Gallery, Oslo, Norway. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Find your respect this moment young lady, or take cover. You can NEVER again scream at your mother. You should only obey and love her, it seems– but never ever ever scream!
…are all I wished to say, but the contortion of your face as it pressed out the weighty matters of selfish cookie-hoarding monsters or the taunting manner in which he’s “lookin’ at you” are not quite the same today, so I’ll wait.
You look more like me because “if you were you” you would have sought my guidance. I know you cannot see clearly because I saw your clarity streaming down your cheeks and to your dark painting
As I gently scraped stray streaks of blue paint from her yellow to look busy, she barely says hello anymore. I just tell her anyway what I think she needs to know- in case my baby is in there listening someplace.
“Control yourself…you’ll learn…have to pay attention…just one thing…and instincts…aware… image… grow and evolve….spirit… when you’re older…anticipate…in case of danger… think…yes you’re the same…. never forget… unexpected….but dust yourself off…distant memory, so remember…be..better…bigger… individual…yes, I’m aware..but true friends… pray…trust..don’t ask so many… no, snitching is..You are beautiful…smile!..only once….ever you want to be… melody…lovely painting”
Eye rolls, lip smacks, and occasional grunts are all I ever notice anymore, yet her silence is the most deafening like a barrage of discomforting nothingness followed by a hanging high-five as she disappears right in front of me. “If that’s all…” she says politely in a tone so perfect I would’ve dismissed it easily if I weren’t her mom.