Silence . . . Grows

Dinner was terse.

Another Tuesday night, another dinner hosted by my parents. Generally, I looked forward to our Tuesday nights. My parents were both good cooks. I loved both of them, though it took me a long time to grow up and appreciate them.

Financially, I'm not successful but they've always been proud of me.

My mom glowered at her plate. I wasn't sure if she was finding fault with my dad's choice of barbecuing the chicken, or just trying to.

The tenseness had been there before I walked in. They were both cordial to me but there was a brittleness between them. I'd found out the story from them separately: My dad had cancelled plans with my mom abruptly to help Tom, who was on his death bed; cancer-ridden. This makes my mom sound cruel but my dad had been doing this semi-regularly for weeks. I understood.

I wanted to help them but I didn't know how. Mere talking seemed ineffectual. It wasn't like when friends are fighting--I didn't feel like I had the authority to even bring it up.

We ate in silence.