Their long-lost dad is coming back, but, as with his leaving, the circumstances are suspicious.
(from Redivider, issue 4, number 1)
When my father returned from the edge of the world, hundreds came to greet him. He had been gone twenty-five years. Behan, my sister, had planned a small welcoming dinner at her house. I helped set a table for seven while my nephew, Linus, assailed me with questions: “What’s he like? Does he go to church? What does he do? Why did he go away? Why’s he coming back?” That last was easiest to answer: “Because he was invited,” I said. I glanced at my mother, who sat waiting in a corner chair, but she had turned her head to a murmuring from outside. Behan’s dog started barking, and the cat flattened itself and slunk underneath the couch. Outside, car horns trumpeted and voices whooped with good cheer. My mother stood up, straightened her dress, and flung the door open to a landscape eclipsed by eager faces.
This story ignites little zippos of suspicion in the reader with each little memory its characters conjure. Are we being lied to? Is there some stretch of honesty on this highway of hyperbole? It’s not gonna make you paranoid, but it does keep you reading closely, intently, trying to dicipher the real story behind the father’s mysterious disappearance. By the end you get it, or get it enough. Very cool story.
Read it here.
Yes, it’s been awhile since I last posted.