For my friends in the Writers' Hangout, talking about the length of short stories.
For the Sake of
Daniel
by
Anand Nair
Daniel put his latchkey in the front
door and placed his satchel down carefully on the floor. He sniffed. It was
that kind of house.
Stale
cigarettes, hamburgers and burnt toast. Nothing new. He knew what to expect. His
mum was sprawled on the sofa. He saw the sadness-lines on her face, clear as
she slept, and the parcel at her feet. Shiny pink material and tassels.
Shit! Dad
would go ballistic. There was no money for tops one size too small; his school trousers
showed six inches of socks. When would she learn?
He went to
the kitchen and found his dinner – burnt sausages and mash with peas floating
in their yellow liquid. He threw the sausages and soggy peas away and put a
fresh batch on the hob. While the water
for the peas boiled he emptied the ashtray near his mother and took her parcel
upstairs to hide in her wardrobe.
Daniel looked
at the clock. Dad would be home in half an hour. He ran to the sitting room and
sprayed it with air freshener. Anything to take all those smells away before
his father came in. He rushed back and forth laying the table for three and
grabbed a packet of crisps from the larder to keep him going till dinner.
Suddenly he
had an urge to leave them to it. Catch the Circle Line to somewhere? He could
go round and round till he knew where he wanted to go. But who would stop his
dad when he lost it and smacked his mother’s bewildered face? Brute! Wait till
I get big, he thought. Bigger’n you.
Next morning,
as he came down for school, his mother was at the fence talking to Sally next
door. Nosy cow.
‘I would
leave him, but for the sake of Daniel,’ he heard his mother say. You and
me both he thought, as he picked up his satchel
and left for school.
