Family, Fiction, Melbourne, Parenting, Relationship and marriage, Writing

In the way

‘Oh don’t be so impertinent!’

Mum is standing in the doorway, blocking my path. And she’s telling me not to be impertinent. Honestly, this woman is the personification of inconsistency.

I let myself into her flat, assuming she’d be at bridge with her other biddies, to get Dad’s wedding band and watch. It was his dying wish that I have them.

‘Mum, please move out of the way,’ I say, with a quiet, calm tone. Over the years I’ve learned it’s best not to invoke further emotion from her.

She stands firm, unmoving.

I wait a beat. Consider my options. I’m twenty-six years old, and weigh 70kgs; she’s almost seventy and weighs 55kgs. I could easily drop my shoulder and plough through like a rugby player. My preponderance over her came when I was seventeen and my weight tipped 57kgs on the scales. Of course, she handled that poorly; made it seem as though I were fat, chunky at best.

‘Mum! Please move.’ My tone is more forceful, but still quiet.

She grins. Maddening.

I knock her over, like she’s a skittle. ‘You’re a bitch,’ I mumble, and keep moving. She’s on the floor, moaning. Pretending to be hurt. Digging for sympathy. It worked on my dad, never on me.

In her room, I rustle through Dad’s bedside table. Find what I’m looking for, and leave before Mum can up and try to prevent me from leaving with Dad’s only valuables.

Photo by marif shaik on Unsplash

6 thoughts on “In the way”

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