Claws and Comforts

I headed up to my room earlier that day seeking isolation after enduring a long, torturous dinner of sitting right across from my horrific mother at the dinner table, my father ranting about uninteresting things that happened at work that day. My mother would be staring up at me every so often, like she was trying to figure out why I wasn’t speaking to her. After a while I could not contain my purified anger towards her at this current point in time and asked my father if I could be excused.

As I resign tucked up in my bed that night, the memories of the day came running back to me. Staring up at the ceiling I realised that maybe my mother hadn’t intended to be that angry with me. She never was. She was never angry with anybody after all. I realised that she would never intentionally be rude to anyone like she was today towards the lovely elderly lady in the Plaza. Come to think of it, why had she been so rude towards her? Had something happened that Skye wasn’t aware of? Did her mother know that lady? And if she did, how?

My father came in later on that night to talk to me. I presumed it was because my mother had told him about today.

“Hey pumpkin, how are you feeling?” He began asking me in a voice so soft and tender that it provoked an ache at the back of my eyes. I swallowed hard and blinked several times as well as looking up at the ceiling light while I was wiggling my way out from under the covers and sitting up to face him.

“I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be okay?” I had said far quicker than I had intended, making my voice seem strangled and obvious that I knew exactly why it wouldn’t be okay. I looked straight into his deep, hazel eyes, until I could no longer contain my sadness. My father recognised this immediately and pulled me into a deep, strong hug. I pressed my face into his t-shirt, breathing in his strong aroma. He smelled of a hard day’s labour and men’s aftershave. I could feel my father’s stubble on my forehead as he shifted me around so that we could see each other’s faces. He wore a look of empathy and slightly of pain.

“Its’ okay sweetheart, I know what happened today at the mall, your mother told me just before.” He announced to me while holding my eyes with his.

“I figured that much. But why did she get so angry with me, why did she behave so rudely towards that poor, sweet woman? Is there something going on that I don’t know about?” All of these questions began pouring out of my mouth before I could even think about them. My father just looked at me, taking in every single one.

“Your mother is facing a very difficult and stressful time with her work at the moment. she did not mean to take it out on you.”



He kissed my forehead and stood up, walking to the door. Turning around to smile at me and say our goodnights before he slipped through the open door and shut it behind him.

I could not get to sleep for the next few hours. He had never actually told me what the exact reasoning of my mother’s moodiness was, just that it was work related. My mind wondering to all the different things that it could be but finally concluding that it was not my concern to be worried about. I had a lot more important things to think about. Like what that intuitive retired dancer had said to me and whether or not I seriously should consider taking up dance. After I heard my parents head to bed I began to drift off. Images of the beautiful dancers I had seen on the screen that day in my head and seeing my face on one of the dancers in the group.

The End

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