he looked at his daughters as they sat
together on the eldests bed it was in
the tiled sunroom at the back of her house
the bed was there because the
room offered the least obstructions it
afforded them the best access to her
and one really couldnt beat the wall of
glass between the room and the outdoors separated by the quiet simple white woodwork that concealed the
structural posts and headers that supported the tall angled openbeam ceiling
it was a warm beautiful room
and
after she was in it not but for a week she wondered out loud speaking to her husband and children Why didn’t we use this room more often?
then they shrugged in answer
she shrugged in reply Dumb.
she looked at him Dadu?
I agree Dumb Whats
with the Dadu
she smiled I went to text you once, dad u running late, I
think that was it, you know how much you don’t care for our shorthand when
texting, and I struck d-a-d-u. I went to correct it, but saying it, Dadu, I
found I like it, so I coopted it as my pet name for you; you and Mom had pet
names for us, Sis and I, while we were growing up, but you and Mom were always
Dad, Mom. Not much room for play.
So . . my pet name is owed to an error
she smiled bigger her wicked dimplesher lovely dimplesthe
dimples she and her sister shared with their mother carved her cheeks he didnt have dimples maybe he was
envious that was their attractive
familial trait aside from their sex that bound themthat made them an incorruptible bloc in
their democratic household
especially on football Sundays
the girls were painted the light of the sunset reflecting off the tall bamboo grass that wove itself through the roots of old shaggy cypresses
Thats the damnedest sunset Huh
girls
they looked up at him
briefly then out the window they had been too consumed in their
conversation to notice
his youngest said It’s a beaut, Dad!
his eldest nodded smiled big the ventilator mask she had placed on her face hissed as her
smile broke the seal
the damnedest sunset happened to
be just then under his finger his finger
holding his place as he saw it peripherally the encroaching colouring in the room through
the windowpanes
so he dropped his head since he had their attention and continued to read smeared like sirup of opals over everything
and dripping off the clouds the way molten metal comes out of the ladle in a
steel mill
Thats Elliot Chazes Black Wings
Has My Angel
Wouldntve expect that language out
of a noir novel woudja
they shook they heads no
and as they did he flashed back to when
they were little girls at bedtime and he read to them
it was a small comfort
when their
comfort was a rare commodity
he smiled at them a small tear in his eye
his youngest smiled and said We remember too, Dad. We remember too.
sometimes they talked without
talking
11ishness, Thursday,
19 9. 19
1422, Monday,
30 3. 20
