Yearning
Holding the phone to his ear, he counts the rings. Claire answers on the fourth.
‘Is your mother still there?’ He doesn’t wait for a greeting.
‘She’s taken the kids into town.’
‘So that’s more free childcare for you.’
‘She offered,’ Claire draws a breath.
‘I’d look after your children anytime.You know I would. I’ve asked often enough.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Claire exhales and he guesses she’s taken up smoking again.
‘When your mother gets back, can you give me a call?’
‘Fine.’ The line goes dead.
‘Fine.’ He returns the handset to its cradle.
Sitting in the armchair, he stretches his legs. Settled for the afternoon, he watches the grey belly of sky through the window and he gropes behind the curtain. Finding the bottle he swirls it, watching the whisky lick the sides. There’s enough to keep him going, for the rest of the day at least. In the tumbler grimy with fingerprints, he pours a large one. Titling the glass, he savours the peaty smell and his nose tweaks at the prospect of a good, steady slug. There’s a nub of anaesthesia as he swallows and his shoulders relax. Smacking his lips as he downs the last drop, he nurses the glass between his fingers.With his eyelids sagging, the tension drifts.
The trill of the telephone wakes him but he doesn’t answer. Instead he talks to the darkened room.
‘Call yourself my daughter? You’re a bloody bitch – you’ve been one since the day you were born.’
This piece of flash fiction currently appears on the National Flash Fiction Day website. National Flash Fiction Day is held on 16 May 2012.
the writer is a lonely hunter 
Love it!!!!! 🙂
Xx
That’s lovely, Vikki. I followed your lead and submitted a piece for the flash fiction world page. Thanks for the heads up
good for you!!!! 🙂
xx
Thanks for visiting my blog Gail. I thought your flash was well observed and poignant. The father’s sadness at not seeing the kids is starkly contrasted with his fixation on the swirling whisky and his reaction to it as it goes down.
Great work Gail. I can imagine a lot of people are going through very similar things, kind of sad, but it just how life works out sometimes.
Hi Craig – thanks for your comment – I’m glad the story seems authentic
Great story, Gail!
Thanks Patsy, it’s the better receiving comments from you now that we’ve met.
Love the less is more approach, well done. Seems believable, and.. unfortunately it’s probably true for many families.
Thank you Estrella – I’m working towards a Bridport Prize submission of 250 words so the practise in writing concisely is helpful
With that attitude, and especially the final sentiment, one could see a self-fulfilling prophecy at work.
Good point, John. I hadn’t thought of it like that.
Thanks for paying me a visit at my blog Gail. I really liked this piece you’ve written, it captures the pain and frustration the father feels and underneath all of that the sadness that perhaps the sense of being left out creates..
Thanks for your insightful feedback and I take your point about the being left out and the isolation this creates.
Very poignant. Only critique I can deliver is to watch out for your sentence constructions that start with a past-continuous verb. It creates a bit of a repetitious feeling. For instance, “Sitting in the armchair, he stretches his legs” or “Finding the bottle he swirls it”.
Good point – I’ll watch for that in the future. Thanks