Separation
He sniffed the air. “Somebody's been smoking in my car,” he said. The increasingly furrowed lines on his forehead made her stomach clench. He shook his head in disbelief. “I am going to try to keep it together, but…damnit! In one move you…you lie to me, you disrespect me, you disobey me, you make me look stupid.” He slammed his fist against the steering wheel for emphasis. “You just gonna sit there?”
“Daddy… I—” She faltered. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but he wasn't. Allen had been in the car last night indeed, smoking even though she asked him not to, running his fingers up her skirt even though she asked him not to. “It was me. I… sometimes I have a cigarette.”
He pulled over onto the soft shoulder of the road and brought it to a stop. “Don't lie to me. Get out,” he barked. She flinched when he reached across her and opened her door. “You think I'd hit you?” he said, dumbfounded. She was silent.
He clenched the wheel with both hands and closed his eyes. “Don't you lie to me,” he whispered. He took a long, deep breath and then opened his own door and hopped out, leaving her there with the engine running and both doors wide open. He walked ahead on to church, alone, his shoulders shaking. As she watched him go, she thought of Allen.
Favourite line: “You think I'd hit you?” he said, dumbfounded.
Poor Daddy, it's a tough job. I love his struggle to hold himself together. I love that he couldn't imagine hitting her even when furious.
I just realised I haven't been following you, which is daft because I really enjoy your writing.
Simple and fulfilling. I really enjoyed this part. Like Martha said, one of the best lines comes with the, "You think I'd hit you?"
Good piece, John. Both of the characters feel real.
Thanks so much, all, for the kind words. Greatly appreciated!
And thanks for the compliment, Martha!
intense moment here, John. I love all that sharp tension that occurs on the soft shoulder -- that is a great detail set just right. I also love the ending of this one, her thinking of Allen.