That Day by Mara Buck

February 17, 2014 Comments Off on That Day by Mara Buck

They all piled into the car with nowhere to go. There was hardly room, but they were used to that. It was very quiet at first, way too quiet, and the father drove fast, way too fast. No one complained. No one bothered to look out the windows. Finally the mother said thank God. The father said why should we? For what? The mother said we’re all here together. The father said aren’t we always?

After an hour on the road, the children began to bicker. They were used to bickering, and they felt it was somehow their job. The older girl complained that the boy was pinching her, and he said no he was not and assumed an innocent air. The younger girl chanted angels in the morning.  Angels in the morning. What does that mean asked the mother. Is that something from the radio? I dunno said the younger girl. I just say it.

Well shut your trap said the father. It’s getting on my nerves.

Angels in the morning. Angels in the morning.

I’m hungry the older girl said. We’re all hungry the mother said. Shut your trap the father said. I’m hungry too the boy said. Angels in the morning the younger girl said.

Don’t you think we could stop at the Red Cross for something to eat the mother said. We’ve passed a couple stations already. Don’t trust those people the father said. Always want something from you. But we have nothing the mother said. Anyone can see that. The children are hungry.

Shut your trap the father said. I’m driving. I’ve got to concentrate.

Angels in the morning. Angels in the morning.

Quit it the father said. I can’t think straight with all the yammering. I just have to think. Leave me alone and let me think this through.

Angels in the morning. Angels in the morning.

I’m hungry.

Me too.

It’s all gone.

Angels in the morning. Angels in the morning.

There was nothing ahead. There was nothing behind.

The next day the Red Cross found the younger girl dazed and wandering along the highway.  Angels in the morning. Angels in the morning she kept repeating.

© 2013 Mara Buck

Mara Buck writes and paints in the Maine woods. She hopes to leave soon. Her writing has won awards or been short-listed by the Faulkner Society, the Hackney Awards, Carpe Articulum, Maravillosa, and has been published in Carpe Articulum, Caper Journal, Huffington Post, Orion, Clarke’s, Poems For Haiti, Pithead Chapel and others. A portfolio from her gallery-sized installation was published in Drunken Boat with other art showcased in Scientific American online. Art/poetry/video appears on the site for the World Trade Center Memorial. Blogs and other works appear at http://redroom.com/member/mara-buck

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