8/8/2019 My Father Was a Quiet Man

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8/8/2019 My Father Was a Quiet Man

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 M y father came through the door looking rather tired, relieved that he had managed to reach home just in time. There was bad

 weather brewing outside, you see. He dropped the shopping on the floor then started wiping his face with his black and white

kerchief. When he was done he nodded at me in greeting; I gave him a small victory sign in return. Then he turned round to the

door and pushed it firmly shut, leaving the bad weather out. Leaving the monsters outside. He walked into the small kitchen

then dropped the shopping onto the counter. As he washed his hands in the water in the sink, he blew another sigh of relief. He

had just got back in time or else the rough winds would have carried him off. They were most violent in the evenings, so people

knew better not to be out then.

“Quite intense out there”, He started, smiling with relief. “I nearly went with the wind that time!” He laughed loudly then.He wiped his hands on the dry cloth and glanced at the candles for just a split second. They stood unlit. Another smile.

“We’ll hold up.” I said, “But mom’s in bed already, you know, for the job interview tomorrow morning?”

I motioned him to the table where our dinner was waiting. Mom had prepared a Russian-roulette sort of meal.

“Good. We’ll leave her something for the morning, yeah?” He said. I had set the table just a few minutes before he was due back.

He kept time well, he did my dad. He slid down into the chair. I walked round the table to the two-way radio, lowered the

volume just enough for the constant static not to disturb our dinner too much.

“The weather broadcast in the afternoon said it wouldn’t last too long.” I assured him from where I was standing. Then I pushed

his chair in before taking my own seat.

“Good. But have the generator ready -”, He said carefully unfolding the napkin across his legs. “Just in case, it decides to knock 

the lights out later on, like the last time see.” I remembered the last time, but we had survived it; surely would we not survive

this one too?

 We started the clang-clang ritual of dinner: the passing of pots, selecting of plates and gathering of forks and knives like weapons

for war. When we had acquired a portion from each of the dishes, only then did we finally start to eat.

“This chicken is just divine. It’s been so long.” dad muttered with ecstasy, his teeth ripping some more flesh from a thigh bone.

He rolled his eyes again to emphasize his pleasure at the meat. I shook my head, smiling.

“Yep, mom’s worked overtime on it -” I said, tackling my noodles. “It is good - a secret recipe I guess.” I added.

 We lived inside the lighthouse – that’s me, mom and dad. We provided the light for the ships from far away. We’ve been doing

it for as long as I’ve been alive. I’m seventeen now so I can handle the switches and lights just like a professional lighthouse

keeper would, really. But mom’s changed her mind now; says we’ve been holding the candle to drive away the monsters away for

far too long. She decided that we needed something new in our lives, wanted us to move on entirely. She figured that we weregetting too cozy in our little safety zone and she did not think it was a good thing at all. This would be our last month as

custodians actually; she had already talked it over with them.

Dad was polishing off the chicken thighs as if we were contestants in an eat-all-you-can competition, he would surely win.

“If you don’t want to choke”, I laughed out, shaking my head. “Don’t eat so fast, Dad!”

Dad shook his head and started laughing. He had already polished off three thighs and he was on his fourth.

“Trust my son to tell me how to eat! What’s the world coming to?” He laughed with his mouth full.

The lighthouse is usually as quiet as a grave but when the storms come, and they’ve been coming more and more frequently -

you wonder if you would survive till the morning. Despite it all, we dined away unconcerned.

Then mom was suddenly in the room - just out of sleep, staring at me sharply. Her eyes slowly grew as round as saucers. She was

shaking. Was it another panic attack, I wondered. Then she started pointing. I followed the finger. Strangely, it was aimed at

dad - who was packing food into his mouth greedily, unconcerned; as if he had not eaten, not eaten for years?

“Son, I told you not let it in!” mom screamed, scratching at her head. She was moving back. “I told you to keep the damn

monsters out! I told you to! Look, it’s even wearing his face.” I shook my head slowly, confused. What was she going on about?

“But I didn’t mom, I didn’t…” I started, slowly getting out of my seat. Then I remembered. Yes, I remembered the candles.

Dear God, I had not lit the candles that night. Then I too started screaming. I turned round to dad, who’d died six months

before I was born. Mom said he had been a quiet man, really. Slowly his head fell off the neck and the blood violently started

streaming out across the floor and up the walls, to drown us. The darkness came quickly.