An Unkept Glass of Water

A glass of water ages when it sits so long untouched.

Maria Delgado looked at the glass of smoky water on her son's bedroom floor and tried to ignore the aging of dirty laundry around her. The smell was unrecognizable and she could have sworn that a squeak could be heard in the darkest reaches of the small room.

The bed was a disorder. A tangle of green covers and school papers were proof of her son's determination to stay young. Steadily she closed the door of the bedroom behind her with the glass of forgotten water in hand. He was at his father's apartment tonight, no doubt talking about the many things that he never mentioned to Maria. Their life consisted of 'Hellos' and 'Goodbyes', but nothing more.

She dumped the murky water down the sink and felt her heart go with it. The sound of the house settling disturbed her because even then, the house was accustomed to the silent footsteps of the past. The shadows on her face seemed disguised as she stood under the bright lights of the quiet kitchen, scrubbing away at the poor glass. It was transparent with small smudges of determined forgetfulness covering the bottom. Her green sponge scrubbed and yet nothing could be done to rid the glass of such marks.

"Forget it Maria, what can be done for this little glass? It has passed its expiration date!" Maria scolded her attempts, simply placing the glass in the sink with soap suds still dripping down the sides.

A door slamming raped her senses and she turned hopeful, but frowned when she remembered the thin walls of her home. She could hear the muted voices of children singing at the arrival of their father.

Her son had been seven when her husband had come home once more, his face a mockery of their marriage. A simple phrase and a simple pat on the cheek announced the arrival of her new life, "I can't anymore Maria, I can't."

The winds of the May Spring weather announced the end of a time of dead things, but promised the arrival of nothing new--nothing unexpected.

Maria turned once more to the sink and grabbed the soapy green sponge. Her son will never understand the meaning of a good, well-kept glass of water; these stains would never come out. Maybe he will learn how to maintain such frailty at his father's apartment.

The End

2 comments about this story Feed