The night of his sixteenth birthday, after the party—with everyone gone—Mark sat on the couch with his mother.
By their feet was a large wooden chest. As Mark reached down, his mother softly grabbed his arm.
“Are you sure, Baby?”
Mark nodded.
He sifted through Polaroids of a young woman barely resembling his mother and a dark-haired man he’d heard next to nothing about.
“Where to start?” his mother said.
“Only the good stuff,” Mark replied.
He grabbed black aviators from the chest and put them on.
His mother stared blankly at him.
He knew what she was thinking.
Alex: nice writing, nice style.
Wonderfully suggestive story, but is “blankly” the right adverb?
Sorry, I didn’t quite get this one….
Glad you brought that up, Jazz, because I didn’t get it either. It’s very well written, but I get the distinct impression that something essential has been left out.
I liked it.
Son turns 16. Time for Mom to share info on his father, unknown to the boy. Son puts on father’s sunglasses. Mom looks at son and sees the boy’s father in the boy.
I got it, thought the subtlety was perfect
Interesting premise here. I had trouble understanding it also. Jeff’s comment helped but I am wondering if the boy really did know what his mother was thinking. I saw the black aviators as representing opaqueness. That deepens the story for me but I’m still not sure I understand. David Galef’s comment is great. This story does leave you thinking.
Thanks for the comments and kind words, y’all. They are much appreciated. I worked with the editors to get this story just right to me. There’s definitely a lot to be explained for here, but that’s more or less intentional. A little head scratching is good — sometimes. 🙂
Thanks for the comments and kind words, y’all. They are much appreciated. I worked with the editors carefully to get this story just right for me. There may be a lot to be explained for here, but that’s more or less intentional. I’ll keep working to get better and better. 🙂