The Silent Treatment

I challenged myself to write for 30 minutes and then post the work.

It’s been a long day at work. Some people say as you get older, the days go quicker. I’m not too sure about that. I think if my bones didn't feel so old and I got more sleep then maybe I’d join that club.
Right. Here we go. Why am I so anxious? It’s only my Son. Maybe today will be different. My legs feel heavy. Am I walking funny?
“Hi”. Nothing. Silence. I’m standing right in front of him.
“Sorry I’m later than usual; it’s been a crazy day”. The pause was elongated and painful. Not even any background noise. Yep, just as I thought, the silent treatment again.
“How’s your day been mate?”. No, that was stupid. Why do I say daft things when I’m nervous?
Maybe he didn't hear me. No, of course he did, he’s right there.
“You can talk to me you know. Come on Daniel.”
This is useless. I wish it wasn't like this. I wonder if it’s the same with his mom. Maybe I should ask her. Maybe not a good idea. Oh I don’t know. What am I going on about? Talking to myself in my head again. At least someone is talking to me.
I have a friend, Carl who says that sometimes he forgets what his lad sounds like because he can go days on end muttering and grunting his way through conversations. I wish I had even that with Daniel but he just won’t even acknowledge me.
“Daniel. I picked something up for you today. Do you want to see it? It’s not much, and I know it’s a bit repetitive but I know you like them. Well, I think you do.” I wish I knew him better.
My hands are twitching. This isn't working. Why is my heart beating faster? I’m a grown man and I feel like I’m about to cry.
“If you don’t like them, just tell me what you like and next time I’ll get you that.” Really? No response? I thought that would work, get his attention maybe. Always works with my daughter. She can be in the middle of anything, anywhere, any time, but if I say I’ve got her something, that’s it, that’s all it takes.
I know a father shouldn't have to buy his kids’ attention, but I’ll try anything. Just a word, just a noise. Just something that says “I kind of acknowledge you Dad, now please go away.” That would be perfect. I could carry on through the evening feeling 100% happier.
I rub the back of my neck. I’m tired. These really are very long days. I step back a bit. Create a bit of space, but it’s no good. He’s not going to talk to me tonight.
It’s this complete silence that gets me though. No kid should be that quiet, especially with their dad.
I love my kids so much. I can’t help but think that I’ve failed my son though. Maybe I’m doing something wrong. Dads are supposed to be a driving force for their children, a confident, direct, vocal authority that are able to reach out, understand and encourage dialogue so easily. Especially a father and son.
I haven’t talked to anyone about this. Maybe they’ll think I’m crazy. I wish I could talk to Daniel about it.
Maybe tomorrow he’ll talk to me. I could try something different maybe. Something has got to work.
I cut my losses for the evening.
“Ok mate. Well, have a good evening alright.”
I bend down, kiss his headstone and leave the flowers by his graveside.

Reviews

[Mathew Jennings]

I was thinking halfway through "is the kid dead?" Turns out yes. I enjoyed reading this piece. Powerful, personal and reasonably hard hitting. If I were to offer any criticism I would say the start felt a little fumbled but it works reasonably well with this character. Over all I think this is a pretty good engaging story.