Coffee

[take10000.livejournal.com]

(This is an edit of the short short story I posted here yesterday. As always, criticism is awesome.)


Coffee

Debating between a banana and a granola bar for breakfast today, I halt halfway down the stairs when I see her at the kitchen table. Draped on the same white wooden chair under the one working light bulb, she barely reaches her mug in the space between last night's dishes. The coffee has long since cooled, but still she stirs, her glazed eyes revealing, again, that she is not here.

"Mom. We were supposed to leave 5 minutes ago, what have you been doing? You're not even dressed yet!"

A stutter in response – never an apology – and finally she picks herself up, her eyes alive, if not awake. She moves painfully slowly as I hover, not bothering to suppress the insult from my glare. Skipping the shower, she fumbles into yesterday's t-shirt and jeans, leaving her pajamas on the rug.

I find the keys on the counter, grab her purse, and hurry her into the passenger seat. The coffee remains, undisturbed, on the kitchen table, for her to throw out when she finds it later today.

"Your seatbelt," I groan, as usual. The seatbelt alert beeps another eight times before she clicks in.

Quickly shifting from reverse to drive, I hit the radio on and turn the bass up. She turns it down. Kurt Cobain is the only voice for a few blessed miles. Then the first attempt:

"Any tests today?"
"Be quiet."
"Solo estoy preguntando! Do you have any tests?"
A sigh. "No, I don't; I have my chem mid term tomorrow. Be quiet, I like this song."

She turns away. What I wanted. I grip the steering wheel and push the speed limit a little more. Too tired for a second surge today, she lets me drive with no more interruptions. At last I pull into the driveway and shift to park, throw open the door and grab my backpack from the back seat. As I walk up the steps, I don't have to look back to know she'll sit in the passenger seat for another few minutes, waking up, then paint on a smile and greet the principal before driving home and pouring the coffee in the sink.

Comments

[take10000.livejournal.com]

well, yes, sort of - the mother is supposed to be dealing with depression. thanks a lot for the comment. here is where i get stuck, though... not sure where to go from this point. ah well, it's a start. thanks again.