The rest of the day was frustrating and boring. Will did nothing, or at least what felt like nothing. He played a few video games, organized his power bots, and pulled off the stickers of his Rubik’s Cube all the while as he snacked on pretzels, cheese, and granola bars. His mother spent a fair amount of time outside the house for some reason which he didn’t think was fair at all. Couldn’t she get sick just as easily? But eventually, evening rolled in and he heard his father’s grumbling CAR putter into the driveway.

By then his mother had spaghetti sauce warming on the stove, and she now sat on the far left crook of their deep grey couch. She paid Will little mind and instead remained engrossed in sewing some sort of cross-stitch, one with pink bunnies on it or something. Now Irene Gladmen, that was his mother’s name if I haven’t told you that yet, wasn’t one to hold back on conversation. If a thought hopped into her mind it practically instantly found it’s way out her mouth, but today she’d barely even spoken a word to Will. Maybe she thought he’d bring up going outside again. Well, not anymore, that chance was over.

Will’s father Jim opened the door, laid his hat on the entryway table and sauntered into the living room to give Irene a quick kiss on the cheek.

“That sauce is smelling good, dear,” he said. “You know, it’s cuz of you I can’t maintain my girlish figure.” He laughed and gave his rounded tummy couple sharp pats.

Girlish figure? Will rolled his eyes. The only shape Jim Gladmen had was that of a basketball. Will’s dad was only slightly over five foot tall and practically the same width. In fact, Will wondered if his father had ever been in any bit of shape in his life.

Immediately Will’s Mother’s self imposed silence was broken. She began to chatter away, talking his Dad’s ear off throughout dinner and on until the evening was spent. All the while, Will said practically nothing, until finally he found himself in bed, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if tomorrow would be any different. Eventually, he leaned over to get a drink of water, but the cup was empty. Will grunted, but dragged himself from the bed and began the long walk down the hall and towards the bathroom sink.

He stopped when he heard the voices. It wasn’t that he didn’t recognize who it was. It was most certainly his parents. What instead shocked him was how they spoke. What they were doing wasn’t normal—not for them at least—and what happened was something he’d only heard a few times before. In fact, less times than he could count on his fingers.

How are Will’s parents speaking?

Their voices are beginning to raise in an argument

They’re talking in a hushed whisper

This Poll is Closed