Phones are deadly. Not only that but they're controlling too. They ring and you answer. They're heartless things who never consider what you may want to unhear. Heartless pretty much sums them up.
***
The grass by the animal house was long and some of it was flattened for a path. It was that time of day when the sun goes orange. My legs were tired from our walk and I was finding it hard to keep smiling. Dad lowered his chin to show his dark eyes. He asked me if I wanted a shoulder ride. Who would've said no? I remember the feel of his hair as I held on tight. The hair was thin and soft. It shone too. The world went further when I looked around. The warmth of the sun was nice as well. That day was perfect.
***
If you asked what first came to mind at the sound of a phone, I would answer, "dark hallway". Then after a minute or two I would add, "it's for Mum". No one asks that, of course. But if they did happen to, I would be prepared. Not that you would need to have a pre-think for that question.
***
The bags of shopping were heavy. Sarah told me that I was weak and that is why they were heavy. What would she know?
We thumped up the steps, me in the lead, but stopped before entering the house.
"Shh! Dad's asleep."
The brown chair had a big crease in the cushion which led to a blob of black hair. With each step we still rustled. So much for being quiet. It wasn't long before Dad had his eyes open.
"Just resting my eyes." Yeah, right.
When we started moving the bags again, it was joined by laughter. Good times, good times.
***
Five fourteen in the morning is not an ideal time to get a phone call. But the phone rung, and Mum did answer. I was awake when the phone rang, and was staring at the ceiling of my room. A weird sense of dread made me run down the hallway. It was like when the birds stop singing before an earthquake. When I reached the lounge Mum had only just started to cry. It was more than a cry, actually, more like a wail. We didn't hug each other. We just stood there, in the dark, crying for him.
Later that day I found out it was fluid in the lung that did the job. Fluid in the lung: it stopped me from seeing my Daddy one last time.
They say not to kill the messenger, right? That's too bad. I reckon killing the phone would've made me feel better. I would've killed it with water.
*
