Post by ✌ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ on Dec 31, 2017 19:50:09 GMT -5
her cutlery hits the plate too loud and it echoes here, grating.
it's just the three of us; it's only ever been the three of us but there's also him, the pachiderm in the room.
"Dad can you pass the salt?" I test.
silence reigns.
my father sits, looking down at his plate, eating calmly and the salt and pepper shakers right beside his hand.
i watch the way his hand curls around the handle of his knife and his knuckles are white but he doesn't shake. There's so much tension here.
it's not like I whispered or anything.
mom just picks it up and passes it off to me, the sound of it hitting the oak table beneath the cloth, dull.
"honey, you know he can't hear you when you're wearing makeup."
i pick up the salt and unscrew the top and i dump it all over my plate.
Dad keeps eating silently and i stare at the white mounds that have sprouted on my chicken.
mountains. i'd like to see some.
i get up then and shrug on my jacket, my parents say nothing. i'm invisible.
i step outside and pull my grinder from my pocket, along with a plastic bag.
i stare into the front window and roll myself a joint, eyes on the back of my Dad's head, i hope he's getting goosebumps.
my only friend left a few months back and i'm not currently fucking anyone in particular.
so i walk down the street towards the beach and think about drowning myself.
smoke follows.
