Understanding the Stars by Xela Culletto

Author:Xela Culletto [Culletto, Xela]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-12-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

“She’s safely home?”

“As promised.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s your turn to uphold your side of the deal. I hope you’re feeling voluble.”

“Not particularly, but let’s get this over with. There are things that need doing.”

Dad did join us for dinner, but it was a quiet affair. He asked me about my day, but didn’t seem coherent enough to carry on more conversation than that. I exchanged worried looks with Mom over the table and racked my brain for something positive to say.

“I noticed the tulips,” I said.

“Oh, yes,” Mom replied. “The girl scouts asked if they could plant some for a service project. They look nice, don’t they?”

“Yes. Very pretty.”

We fell again into silence. Conversation stalemate.

Finally I stood up and placed my silverware into the dishwasher. I went back to the table to gather the plates. I noticed that each person’s plate had barely been touched. It looked as though we were about to begin a meal, not end one.

Suddenly a weight fell over me. If there is anything more bleak than sitting around, waiting for someone in your family to die, I don’t know what it is. My adventure with Ronan had made me forget how dismal things had become. And the worst thing was, there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it. How do you look at the bright side of things when there is no bright side?

These dispiriting thoughts followed me around like a little raincloud as I cleaned up the kitchen. I’d insisted that Mom and Dad go watch the evening news, like they used to do, hoping they wouldn’t catch on to my gloomy thoughts.

Upon finishing, I helped Mom wake Dad, who’d fallen asleep on the couch, and together we assisted him to the bedroom. Mom made him swallow some pills and then left to go do some work on her computer. I gave my dad a hug, then turned to leave, but he stopped me.

“Stay a minute,” he said through lips that barely seemed to move.

“Okay.” I sat back down in the chair next to his bed.

“I want to say a few things to you,” he said quietly, slowly.

I nodded.

“Alex, I hate to see you so down. It’s not you.”

I didn’t respond. What could I say that wouldn’t make things worse?

“I don’t want you living in death’s shadow. You’re too young.”

“Okay, Dad,” I said, hoping to make him feel better.

With effort he lifted his head from the pillow and looked at me eye-to-eye.

“I’m serious, Alex. You and your mother need to live for the future, not dwell in the past. You, especially. You have so much life. Don’t let my passing shadow it. I want you to find something you’re passionate for—obsessively passionate—and that will help.”

Drained from the effort of his small speech, his head fell to his pillow and he closed his eyes for a moment. I took his hand.

“I love you, Dad. I will do my best to carry on. Passionately.” In the dark corner of my mind a small voice laughed ha! as I spoke.

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