After dinner one night, we sat at the table; dishes as yet unwashed, blank paper center stage, another ‘life lesson’ to be learned.
He drew a line on the page, marring the perfect blank surface; then two lines at each end, creating a sort of barrier for the line.
On one end he wrote ‘abstract’
On the other ‘concrete’
He said, I love you, but you’re waay over here; waving the pen over the ‘abstract’ area, pointing off the page.
I need you to be more over here, He continued, gesturing towards the ‘concrete’ end of the line, slightly left of center.
“If not for our dedication to craft, to excellence; where would we land on this line?” I ask in objection.
You’re not that good at writing; besides, poets are a dime a dozen. He scoffs, annoyed.
“Whatever.” I reply, rolling my eyes; I slide the paper sideways off the edge of the table, “It’s not like it matters to you.”
Exactly; it’s all in your head anyhow. Eventually you’ll learn. He beamed. No one will love you like I will, and I’m glad to be here for you.
He blathers on, Sometimes, you know; you just don’t think like normal people. He grins, putting his hands on top of his head; contented with his explanation.
“Here’s what I think,” I say, folding the paper, “You have no idea what goes on in my head.” I punctuate the words with sharp strokes of my thumbnail across the edges. “And you’re wrong.”
His eyebrows furrowed, corners of his mouth turned down. You’ll never get anywhere with that attitude young lady.
His face puffs slightly, blood rushing to the cheeks. And just so you know; you fidget too much and this conversation is pointless. No one’s ever going to get through to you. His tone abrupt.
Paper creased, I set it free – It lands gently near the sliding glass door.
“Oh look, an F16 fighter jet; turns out this conversation WAS useful after all!” I quip, pushing myself back from the table.
An airplane in flight.
You’re impossible. He scowls.
“I know. Thanks!” I smile, leaving the room.
Paper plane and dirty dishes left behind.