by Clio Nima
This once my dad came to visit, a radical feeling tortured my soul. Was he the one to blame for all the mess in my life? What would have happened if he hadn’t left? Questions kept on echoing through my head. What if he hadn’t met that other woman?
• Would Mom still be with us?
I couldn’t restrain myself from asking while he sipped the cold homemade lemonade I had prepared that very morning especially for him. How was I supposed to know he was allergic to stevia, your honor? I hadn’t seen him since I was five and I never use sugar in my house you see. No we didn’t meet at my mother’s funeral, he didn’t make it.
• I am sorry for all the pain I‘ve caused.
He whispered, interrupting my thoughts, with his eyes constantly stuck on his brown shoes and a perplex look on his face.
• When I heard about your mom, God knows how devastated I was. I wish I could have come but your sister was only a baby and I couldn’t lea…
He paused. How could he, in front of me, of all people, finish this sentence? He kept clearing his throat and little sweaty spots begun to appear on his forehead.
• Well, is there anything you need? You know I am always here for you, don’t you, cookie?
I stared at him and when he raised his eyes I gave him my sweetest cookie smile.
• Just finish your juice, daddy; it will help with that cough of yours.
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Clio comes from Greece. She studied business administration and has a certificate of proficiency in English from Cambridge university.
5 thoughts on “Homemade Lemonade”
Short and to the point. Interesting style that works for a tale of this length. Have you used it for longer pieces?
Yes I have. I generally use laconic style for my writing. Thank you.
The pain of parental betrayal is a difficult topic. The idiosyncratic formatting a distracted me from the emotional complexities being explored. AGB
Not a reply, but an addition to my comment. The ironic twist at the end is terrific. AGB
Thank you for the kind critique.