Πέμπτη, 10 Φεβρουαρίου 2011

Τί δὲ ῥυθμίζεις τὴν ἐμὴν λύπην ὅπου;

"... blah blah blah..."
 She barely heard his footsteps in the stairs. She lifted her head from the newspaper she was vaguely reading and, above the kitchen table and between the clove pink blossoms that stuck outside the vase, she could discern his bowed head entering.
"Hey"
"Hi, dad."
 He looked tired. He always looked tired. He always used to look a little older too, with his long grey hair covering the remaining black curls that reminded her of old pictures her mother had given her.
"Where's your mother?"
"She's with grandma, they went to the doctor to remove the stitches"
"How are you?"
"I think I might be a little sick... Today we did that field trip I told you about last night"
"Ah. Eh, was it good?" For a minute he seemed completely out of touch with his thoughts as he was pacing the floor taking off his heavy black coat, getting rid of his worn out leather suitcase, going into his study, coming out, going to the kitchen, going in the study yet again.
"Yeah it was cool." She nodded mind absently browsing through the newspaper.
  He was a miserable man. No doubt, miserable. She has very few memories of him beign utterly sober and cheerful at the same time. He might laugh, once or twice, but rarely in the mornig that is. The days he is spending all day at home he usually wakes up at nine in the morning and by noon he has had his first drink. By four in the afternoon he might be a little cheerful, as if the weight has been lifted for a while off his shoulders. But within an hour of that liquid joy the weight seems to fall back in its place more heavy than it ever was. Those hours she simply prefers not to talk to him. He is restricted on his part of the house and she on hers. Up and down. Literally. He lingers, as if at the bottom of all, in the first floor. She, on the second.
  She lost his sight behind the wall that seperates the kitchen from the living room, she saw the light turn on and herd cutlery sounds. She was now starring at the last page of the newspaper looking at nothing, just chasing with her eyes the little black letters.
  After a little while she was brought back to reality by the violent slam of the refrigerator door. It seems, he wasn't going to eat anytime soon. He left the kitchen and got lost behind his study's half closed sliding door. The noise from the radio programme he was listening to was getting too annoying for her, so she thought it would be best to just get lost in her room.

 As she was moving towards the stairs he called out to her.
 "Hey, where's your mother?"
 "She's in the doctor, dad "

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