Thursday, March 31, 2016

Thursday Taster 89: Parallel Slip

Hello and welcome to a new Thursday Taster, the day when awesome writers all over the blogosphere come together to give you tasty bits of their last fiction. You can find the list here.
I didn't set the table, I walked to my room, my room where I couldn't isolate my self, my room without a lock on the door. I wanted to yell but I had lost my voice. I had been talking to her about going to university to learn physics since I was fourteen, since the first day I had learned what an atom was and she had planned my entire life for me without even consulting me. I was to become a secretary and work with her until she retired and then work with an assistant until I retired. A steady job, everybody's dream, everything prepared for me, everything I hated. And she had come to my room to force me to set the table.
"Don't be a baby," she had said, "It's for your own good. Do you know how many people fail university in first year? More than half, it's filled with drunks and drugs and gamers, people don't go there to study, they go there to get away from their parents and enjoy themselves in debauchery until reality catch them up. A bright girl like you don't want to waste time with those people."
And she went on and on and on about it, while I set the table, while she prepared dinner, while we ate. Not a single time she asked me what I wanted, not a single time she asked me what I liked, not a single time.
"Mum, what's my favorite color?"
"Blue of course."
"My favorite dish?"
"Chocolate cake."
"My favorite book?"
"The last of the Mohican, you used to play indians with the neighbor's kid before they moved away," she said, "Why all those questions?"
"Hum, for nothing, just conversation."
I finished my roast-beef and fries. I hated roast-beef and I wasn't too far of hating my mother's fries either. My grand-mother made them so much thicker so much tastier. I wanted to cry. I though after knowing me for seventeen years my mother would at least know me a little bit but she didn't. My favorite color was purple, my favorite dish was salmon with Holland sauce and my favorite book was Dune. She had not a single clue who I was and she had no intention of ever figuring it out. That's the day I started analyzing her, her words, her behavior toward me and toward others. I asked for a second form to my teacher and I filled it up during class. She didn't need to know. Then the slow process of convincing her started but I never managed too and that's why it leaded to today. That's why she slapped me, because she had finally realized that I wasn't a toy she could play with for her own ambition, or lack of ambition, but a real person, with real feeling and I had to hate her to make her see this. It was insane. But it was my life.

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  1. Funny how we try and keep the peace somehow by saying we like something our mother cooks. And keep quiet when they think they know best by telling you not to do something. She wants to live her own life and clearly not be organized by anyone. Great taster, can't wait to read more. The book is on my must read list

  2. I hope standing up doesn't knock her down too much. She needs her independence.