Eggnog 6: Empty
Title: Empty
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Eggnog 6 (snowman), malt (SC 386: all you have to do is learn to care less), butterscotch (1941), pocky chain, fresh raspberries (The USS Arizona), .
Word Count: 400
Rating: PG.
Summary: Karol will never care again.
Notes: This is Danny's grandfather, and might explain a bit about her father.
When Karol was seven years old, his father, Tadeusz Sierbenski, went off to war. He explained, kneeling down to be on Karol's level, that he had to go. It was for the homeland, that Tadeusz had left years ago, that Karol had never seen. Someone was invading it, so Karol's father had to leave.
"Don't worry," his mother said, as they waved his father off. "He's not going to Europe. He won't go to war. He'll probably be sent to the Pacific." She smiled, nervously. "There's no war in the Pacific."
She was more wrong than either of them knew.
--
Tadeusz wrote them postcards from a distant island, as strange and unreal as the homeland he told Karol he fought for. Karol studied the postcards, dutifully reading every line, though he could not begin to comprehend the world his father described. Green trees everywhere, birds chittering in the trees, the endless sounding sea-- nothing could be more different from the small plains town of his birth.
"Look, Karol," his mother said, pointing to the map. "This is Oahu, where your father is. Do you know the name of his ship?"
"The Arizona," Karol answered, dutifully, though the name meant nothing.
--
He came downstairs that morning and found his mother listening to the radio, her handkerchief twisted in her hands. She got up and embraced Karol, holding him hard against her chest.
"He's all right," she said, over and over. "Your father's all right. I promise. He's all right."
He wasn't all right. Karol knew that, even if his mother didn't.
The telegram came a few days later. His mother held it in shaking hands and cried. Karol looked over her shoulder at the typed words-- The Navy Department deeply regrets to inform you-- and hated them all.
Especially his father.
--
At the funeral, dressed in black, he stared at a coffin that he knew was empty, because his father's body was buried in twisted metal and clouded water. His mother held his hand in a grip too tight and sobbed, deep, wracking sounds that wrung her chest and made her gasp for air.
His father had cared so much he'd gone off to war and gotten killed. His father had cared about everything and everyone, except his family, because if he'd cared about his family, he'd be here.
Karol resolved then that he would never care about anything.
Not ever.
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Eggnog 6 (snowman), malt (SC 386: all you have to do is learn to care less), butterscotch (1941), pocky chain, fresh raspberries (The USS Arizona), .
Word Count: 400
Rating: PG.
Summary: Karol will never care again.
Notes: This is Danny's grandfather, and might explain a bit about her father.
When Karol was seven years old, his father, Tadeusz Sierbenski, went off to war. He explained, kneeling down to be on Karol's level, that he had to go. It was for the homeland, that Tadeusz had left years ago, that Karol had never seen. Someone was invading it, so Karol's father had to leave.
"Don't worry," his mother said, as they waved his father off. "He's not going to Europe. He won't go to war. He'll probably be sent to the Pacific." She smiled, nervously. "There's no war in the Pacific."
She was more wrong than either of them knew.
--
Tadeusz wrote them postcards from a distant island, as strange and unreal as the homeland he told Karol he fought for. Karol studied the postcards, dutifully reading every line, though he could not begin to comprehend the world his father described. Green trees everywhere, birds chittering in the trees, the endless sounding sea-- nothing could be more different from the small plains town of his birth.
"Look, Karol," his mother said, pointing to the map. "This is Oahu, where your father is. Do you know the name of his ship?"
"The Arizona," Karol answered, dutifully, though the name meant nothing.
--
He came downstairs that morning and found his mother listening to the radio, her handkerchief twisted in her hands. She got up and embraced Karol, holding him hard against her chest.
"He's all right," she said, over and over. "Your father's all right. I promise. He's all right."
He wasn't all right. Karol knew that, even if his mother didn't.
The telegram came a few days later. His mother held it in shaking hands and cried. Karol looked over her shoulder at the typed words-- The Navy Department deeply regrets to inform you-- and hated them all.
Especially his father.
--
At the funeral, dressed in black, he stared at a coffin that he knew was empty, because his father's body was buried in twisted metal and clouded water. His mother held his hand in a grip too tight and sobbed, deep, wracking sounds that wrung her chest and made her gasp for air.
His father had cared so much he'd gone off to war and gotten killed. His father had cared about everything and everyone, except his family, because if he'd cared about his family, he'd be here.
Karol resolved then that he would never care about anything.
Not ever.