| General Flash Fiction posted May 1, 2015 |
  |
744 words
Waiting Up
by Spiritual Echo
"For God's sake, Maggie, come to bed."
"I can't; she's not home yet."
It was an ongoing argument. John tried everything to help Maggie come to terms with Beth's independence, but he discovered her, once again, huddled by the window in the living room, eyes fixated on the street.
"She's not a kid. Maybe she's having a better time than she expected."
"At two o'clock in the morning, John? That can mean only one thing."
She clutched the drapes, white-knuckled, beads of perspiration on her forehead. John knew that she wouldn't come to bed until Beth got home, but he hated to see her anxiety ruin her sleep.
"How is that so bad? Do you want to control her every move? I thought the whole idea of building the studio apartment over the garage was to let Beth have her privacy--a little autonomy--to make it comfortable for her to entertain her own friends and live an independent life?"
"She hasn't had dinner with us once this week--not once."
"And why would she? She's told you a dozen times she's a vegetarian. Do you really expect her to sit down at the table with us as we gnaw our way through a rack of ribs?"
Maggie tried to divert John's logic. Beth had taken to a lot of new ideas over the years. In the past, she tried to wait it out, most were short-lived, but lately everything about Beth was changing.
"It's a phase she's going through, that's all. She loves barbecue. Don't look at me that way, John. I worry about her. She needs to eat."
"I'm going to bed. What do you plan to do, accost her when she gets home--treat her like a belligerent child? She's a grown woman, for God's sake. What she does or with whom she does it, is none of your business."
"When did you get this laid back attitude? It seems to me you were pretty concerned when you saw the number of wine bottles she hauled to the curb."
"I over-reacted. Beth had a party, and she paid for it. That hangover lasted three days. That was punishment enough."
"But she never used to drink..."
That was the other thing that concerned Maggie, the booze. She hated herself for spying on Beth, but there was always something in the trash--wine bottles--even vodka.
She tried to talk with Beth, but she'd stared her down, told her that she would live how she pleased, and that if Maggie didn't like it she'd move.
"And she didn't date either, I get it; you're worried about her. But have some faith in her. Beth is just spreading her wings, and she's got a good head on her shoulders. It's the taste of freedom. She doesn't need you hovering over her. In fact, keep it up and she might decide that living in our home is stifling--cramping her style."
Oh, God, Maggie thought. John was beginning to sound like Beth.
"You make it sound so natural, as if I should be celebrating, cheering, hoping she's having sex right now."
"Well, I hope she is, alright? I hope she really likes this guy and makes a life with him."
"How can you say that?"
John was always Beth's champion, defending her right to be her own person. It infuriated Maggie. She felt that he should be more protective, not hurling Beth into the world without a safety net.
"I don't like the guys she's going out with. This last one--this Harry--looks like a pervert."
"You treat Harry like shit, barely talking to him. It's no wonder Beth stays away from home so much. Maybe you should invite them both for dinner. Stop acting like you're ashamed of Beth. Do you really expect her to sit at home with us?"
"I'm not ashamed, just concerned."
The living room was suddenly flooded with light as a car turned into the driveway.
"Thank God, she's home."
"Good, now stop spying and come to bed."
John reached over and snapped the drapes closed, put his arm around his wife and led her toward the bedroom.
"Maggie, my love, I know you're worried about your mother, but your father's been dead for more than five years. Be happy she's enjoying life. Can you do that?"
"It was so much easier when she was just plain Grandma. I can try, John. That's all I can do is try..."
Flash Fiction Writing Contest contest entry
"For God's sake, Maggie, come to bed."
"I can't; she's not home yet."
It was an ongoing argument. John tried everything to help Maggie come to terms with Beth's independence, but he discovered her, once again, huddled by the window in the living room, eyes fixated on the street.
"She's not a kid. Maybe she's having a better time than she expected."
"At two o'clock in the morning, John? That can mean only one thing."
She clutched the drapes, white-knuckled, beads of perspiration on her forehead. John knew that she wouldn't come to bed until Beth got home, but he hated to see her anxiety ruin her sleep.
"How is that so bad? Do you want to control her every move? I thought the whole idea of building the studio apartment over the garage was to let Beth have her privacy--a little autonomy--to make it comfortable for her to entertain her own friends and live an independent life?"
"She hasn't had dinner with us once this week--not once."
"And why would she? She's told you a dozen times she's a vegetarian. Do you really expect her to sit down at the table with us as we gnaw our way through a rack of ribs?"
Maggie tried to divert John's logic. Beth had taken to a lot of new ideas over the years. In the past, she tried to wait it out, most were short-lived, but lately everything about Beth was changing.
"It's a phase she's going through, that's all. She loves barbecue. Don't look at me that way, John. I worry about her. She needs to eat."
"I'm going to bed. What do you plan to do, accost her when she gets home--treat her like a belligerent child? She's a grown woman, for God's sake. What she does or with whom she does it, is none of your business."
"When did you get this laid back attitude? It seems to me you were pretty concerned when you saw the number of wine bottles she hauled to the curb."
"I over-reacted. Beth had a party, and she paid for it. That hangover lasted three days. That was punishment enough."
"But she never used to drink..."
That was the other thing that concerned Maggie, the booze. She hated herself for spying on Beth, but there was always something in the trash--wine bottles--even vodka.
She tried to talk with Beth, but she'd stared her down, told her that she would live how she pleased, and that if Maggie didn't like it she'd move.
"And she didn't date either, I get it; you're worried about her. But have some faith in her. Beth is just spreading her wings, and she's got a good head on her shoulders. It's the taste of freedom. She doesn't need you hovering over her. In fact, keep it up and she might decide that living in our home is stifling--cramping her style."
Oh, God, Maggie thought. John was beginning to sound like Beth.
"You make it sound so natural, as if I should be celebrating, cheering, hoping she's having sex right now."
"Well, I hope she is, alright? I hope she really likes this guy and makes a life with him."
"How can you say that?"
John was always Beth's champion, defending her right to be her own person. It infuriated Maggie. She felt that he should be more protective, not hurling Beth into the world without a safety net.
"I don't like the guys she's going out with. This last one--this Harry--looks like a pervert."
"You treat Harry like shit, barely talking to him. It's no wonder Beth stays away from home so much. Maybe you should invite them both for dinner. Stop acting like you're ashamed of Beth. Do you really expect her to sit at home with us?"
"I'm not ashamed, just concerned."
The living room was suddenly flooded with light as a car turned into the driveway.
"Thank God, she's home."
"Good, now stop spying and come to bed."
John reached over and snapped the drapes closed, put his arm around his wife and led her toward the bedroom.
"Maggie, my love, I know you're worried about your mother, but your father's been dead for more than five years. Be happy she's enjoying life. Can you do that?"
"It was so much easier when she was just plain Grandma. I can try, John. That's all I can do is try..."
"I can't; she's not home yet."
It was an ongoing argument. John tried everything to help Maggie come to terms with Beth's independence, but he discovered her, once again, huddled by the window in the living room, eyes fixated on the street.
"She's not a kid. Maybe she's having a better time than she expected."
"At two o'clock in the morning, John? That can mean only one thing."
She clutched the drapes, white-knuckled, beads of perspiration on her forehead. John knew that she wouldn't come to bed until Beth got home, but he hated to see her anxiety ruin her sleep.
"How is that so bad? Do you want to control her every move? I thought the whole idea of building the studio apartment over the garage was to let Beth have her privacy--a little autonomy--to make it comfortable for her to entertain her own friends and live an independent life?"
"She hasn't had dinner with us once this week--not once."
"And why would she? She's told you a dozen times she's a vegetarian. Do you really expect her to sit down at the table with us as we gnaw our way through a rack of ribs?"
Maggie tried to divert John's logic. Beth had taken to a lot of new ideas over the years. In the past, she tried to wait it out, most were short-lived, but lately everything about Beth was changing.
"It's a phase she's going through, that's all. She loves barbecue. Don't look at me that way, John. I worry about her. She needs to eat."
"I'm going to bed. What do you plan to do, accost her when she gets home--treat her like a belligerent child? She's a grown woman, for God's sake. What she does or with whom she does it, is none of your business."
"When did you get this laid back attitude? It seems to me you were pretty concerned when you saw the number of wine bottles she hauled to the curb."
"I over-reacted. Beth had a party, and she paid for it. That hangover lasted three days. That was punishment enough."
"But she never used to drink..."
That was the other thing that concerned Maggie, the booze. She hated herself for spying on Beth, but there was always something in the trash--wine bottles--even vodka.
She tried to talk with Beth, but she'd stared her down, told her that she would live how she pleased, and that if Maggie didn't like it she'd move.
"And she didn't date either, I get it; you're worried about her. But have some faith in her. Beth is just spreading her wings, and she's got a good head on her shoulders. It's the taste of freedom. She doesn't need you hovering over her. In fact, keep it up and she might decide that living in our home is stifling--cramping her style."
Oh, God, Maggie thought. John was beginning to sound like Beth.
"You make it sound so natural, as if I should be celebrating, cheering, hoping she's having sex right now."
"Well, I hope she is, alright? I hope she really likes this guy and makes a life with him."
"How can you say that?"
John was always Beth's champion, defending her right to be her own person. It infuriated Maggie. She felt that he should be more protective, not hurling Beth into the world without a safety net.
"I don't like the guys she's going out with. This last one--this Harry--looks like a pervert."
"You treat Harry like shit, barely talking to him. It's no wonder Beth stays away from home so much. Maybe you should invite them both for dinner. Stop acting like you're ashamed of Beth. Do you really expect her to sit at home with us?"
"I'm not ashamed, just concerned."
The living room was suddenly flooded with light as a car turned into the driveway.
"Thank God, she's home."
"Good, now stop spying and come to bed."
John reached over and snapped the drapes closed, put his arm around his wife and led her toward the bedroom.
"Maggie, my love, I know you're worried about your mother, but your father's been dead for more than five years. Be happy she's enjoying life. Can you do that?"
"It was so much easier when she was just plain Grandma. I can try, John. That's all I can do is try..."
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