A Generational Defect

Two kids discuss love in the wake of a recent divorce.

A Generational Defect

 

They were sitting under a canopy of trees in the far corner of her parent’s backyard. A warm wind blew south through the wall of pines at their back, and with it came the sweet rain of soft, fluttering needles. She was irritated, he could tell this by the way she twisted and mangled the stems of a maple leaf between her fingers.

 

“I’m just not sure they love each other anymore.” She said, weaving the frayed stems into one another resembling the early stages of a wicker doll.

 

“Your mom seems happy.” He said. He watched her as she playfully avoided a beam of sunlight that cast gently along the freckles of her neck. She settled into a spot closer to him, he smiled.

 

“Well sure, but she’s not. I mean trust me, every day she gets a little worse.” She said, shooting glances towards the house.

 

“I can’t even remember what her laugh sounds like.” She tied a large stem in an overlapping loop that resembled a torso.

 

The two of them paused and stared up at the dark kitchen windows that ran along the back of the house, conscious of the possibility that her mother, or anyone, could be secretly watching them. There was a building tension inside of him that caused a shortness in his breath, panicky hands. His mind raced far too fast for his mouth to follow.

 

He shifted closer to her and hugged his knees in close to his chest.

“Why do you think old people stick together even when they hate each other?” He asked her.

 “I mean, they look into each other’s eyes and they don’t even like it anymore.”

 

“My mom’s eyes don’t look the same anymore.” She said. “Maybe that’s why.”

They watched the neighbor in the distance as she slowly dragged a wheelbarrow from one end of her flower garden to the other. 

The wind picked up and blew little pine needles into her hair. He pulled one out.

 

“Here you go.” He smiled as he gave it to her.

 

“I hate her; I wish that she would go away and leave me and my dad alone.” She said, preoccupied with the wicker creation, until finally hurling it into the yard with a single long and defiant thrust.

 

The kitchen windows peered down at them and he felt as if this might be the last time they sit here, in this spot, like this.

 

“I hope everything goes well.” He told her, offering what little comfort he could afford. Behind his eyes resided an overwhelming urge to erase all of her pain. He wished she would understand, the lengths he was somehow willing to go for her, an unwanted absolute loyalty.

 

“Thanks.” She said.

 

Just then the screen door slid open and a women yelled from inside. .

 

“I have to go.” She said, brushing the pine needles off her lap as she stood.

 

“See you tomorrow?” He asked her, noticing the frailty in his own voice, he looked down.

“Sure. See you tomorrow.” She said, and made her way up the length of the yard to the small staircase along the side of the deck. Soon after that she disappeared into the darkness of the open screen door, sliding it shut behind her.

 

He picked up the twine bundle and she had made and stuffed it into his pocket. The wind pushed him with a cold resilience while the woman next door continued to drag her wheelbarrow from one end of the garden to the other. She stood up straight, wiping the sweat from her brow, then turned and looked up at the sky, then over at him.

“Looks like rain!” She yelled, accompanied by the slightest smile. He nodded back to her without saying anything and began making his way home. He probably wouldn’t come around here anymore.

Author's Note

what do you think?

Reviews

[Cierra]

I liked it. You can certainly feel the emotion the two face. Very well written, very well worded!

I look forward to reading more of your work!