theatrical_muse :: TOPIC #274 What question do you most dread?
It was a question Lana always dreaded, and it was worse every time it came out of her little boy's mouth.
"Momma, what was Daddy like?"
She always answered the same way.
"Eli, sweetie, I already told you. He was a bad man."
It never seemed to satisfy him, just inspired more dreaded questions, ones she tried to answer as honestly as she could manage. He was too much like her for his own good.
"But you still loved him, didn't you?"
This one caught her by the throat.
"...yes, I did."
He was quiet for a moment, focusing on the picture in his coloring book.
"What did he look like?"
This was one she could never answer straight out, not until he was old enough to understand the complicated answer attached to it.
She just smiled at him. "Not nearly as handsome as you."
A heavy sigh. "You're doing it again."
"Am not."
"Are too. Can't you just tell me what he looked like? He was my dad."
"Well...he was tall, around Uncle Clark and Mr. Queen's height. He had dark hair like us, and these amazing eyes I can't even begin to describe."
He made a face. "Ew, Momma, you sound squishy!"
Lana couldn't help but laugh. "You mean mushy."
"Same thing."
More laughing, followed by another short period of silence.
"How did he die?"
She looked at her son, considering her words carefully before answering.
"It was an allergic reaction."
"Did he stay out in the sun too long?"
"Not that allergy."
"Ooooh, he touched something blue and sparkly."
"Mhm."
"...were you sad when he died?"
Lana found herself unable to answer...so she just nodded.
There was silence again before he asked his next question.
"Can we eat breakfast at Unlce Clark's tomorrow?"
"Momma, what was Daddy like?"
She always answered the same way.
"Eli, sweetie, I already told you. He was a bad man."
It never seemed to satisfy him, just inspired more dreaded questions, ones she tried to answer as honestly as she could manage. He was too much like her for his own good.
"But you still loved him, didn't you?"
This one caught her by the throat.
"...yes, I did."
He was quiet for a moment, focusing on the picture in his coloring book.
"What did he look like?"
This was one she could never answer straight out, not until he was old enough to understand the complicated answer attached to it.
She just smiled at him. "Not nearly as handsome as you."
A heavy sigh. "You're doing it again."
"Am not."
"Are too. Can't you just tell me what he looked like? He was my dad."
"Well...he was tall, around Uncle Clark and Mr. Queen's height. He had dark hair like us, and these amazing eyes I can't even begin to describe."
He made a face. "Ew, Momma, you sound squishy!"
Lana couldn't help but laugh. "You mean mushy."
"Same thing."
More laughing, followed by another short period of silence.
"How did he die?"
She looked at her son, considering her words carefully before answering.
"It was an allergic reaction."
"Did he stay out in the sun too long?"
"Not that allergy."
"Ooooh, he touched something blue and sparkly."
"Mhm."
"...were you sad when he died?"
Lana found herself unable to answer...so she just nodded.
There was silence again before he asked his next question.
"Can we eat breakfast at Unlce Clark's tomorrow?"