Margarita 24: Clarity
Title: Clarity
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Margarita 24 (reject), My Treat (My heart is weak and unreliable. When I go it will be my heart. I try to burden it as little as possible.), malt (Challenge: I remember the day when ______happened.), butterscotch (Frank is ten), rainbow sprinkles (Frank), hot fudge (Danny's father).
Word Count: 559
Rating: PG.
Summary: Frank is confused.
Notes: Some more explanation.
Frank Sierbenski was ten years old before he realized there was something different about his family.
It took him that long because for the longest time he thought it was just something different about him. All the other children had friends; he had none. All the other children ate lunch with someone; he ate alone. All the other children played with people at lunch; he sat alone, poking at anthills or studying the trees. His teachers worried about him, called his parents in for conferences, but he never bothered to change.
He was like his parents, after all. He was like everyone else in the world. Teachers, he thought, must just be strange.
Then, when he was ten, the parents of one of his classmates hosted a 'getting to know you' party. He had to go; he was invited, and his mother said it was polite to go. He stood in the corner the entire time, no matter what the hosts did to try and coax him out-- the other children knew better than to try-- and watched.
What he saw confused him.
The father and mother kissed each other, touched casually, called each other "darling." They spoke kindly to the other children when they ran and played. The children called them "Mommy," and "Daddy."
After his mother drove him home, he went straight to his father's study, and knocked. "Enter," his father called.
Frank went in, stood in front his father's desk. "Sir," he said, and waited to be acknowledged.
His father kept writing for a moment, then looked up and over the tops of his glasses. "Frank," he said, sounding a little surprised. "What is it?"
"May I ask a question, sir?"
His father set his pen down and folded his hands on the desktop. "Ask."
Frank hesitated, phrasing the question before he spoke. "The other children at the party called their parents Mommy and Daddy," he said, at last. "Why do they do that?"
His father frowned. "An interesting question," he said. "Do you want to call me Daddy?"
"No, sir," Frank said, immediately. "It's overly familiar, sir."
"Correct," his father said, and Frank flushed, pleased. "You understand, I see. Those children call their parents that because they are overly familiar."
Frank nodded. "I do understand, sir. Um."
"Don't stammer, Frank," his father snapped. "Say what you're going to say or don't speak at all."
He swallowed, reminded himself to stay in control. "May I ask another question, sir?"
His father considered him for a moment, then nodded. "You may."
"How did you know not to be overly familiar with Mother and me?"
To Frank's surprise, his father sighed, and looked rather sad. "A lesson I learned in my youth," he said. "I won't bore you with the story, but... let me just tell you, caring is more trouble than it's worth. You'll only get hurt, Frank." He stared off into the distance for a moment. "It will kill me one day, caring. But you might be able to escape."
Thoroughly confused, Frank nodded. "I understand, sir."
His father focused on him again, and smiled, a sharp, mocking expression. "No, you don't," he said, and returned to his writing. "You are dismissed."
Frank left the room, and spent the rest of the day thinking. But it wasn't until he had his own children that he finally understood.
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Margarita 24 (reject), My Treat (My heart is weak and unreliable. When I go it will be my heart. I try to burden it as little as possible.), malt (Challenge: I remember the day when ______happened.), butterscotch (Frank is ten), rainbow sprinkles (Frank), hot fudge (Danny's father).
Word Count: 559
Rating: PG.
Summary: Frank is confused.
Notes: Some more explanation.
Frank Sierbenski was ten years old before he realized there was something different about his family.
It took him that long because for the longest time he thought it was just something different about him. All the other children had friends; he had none. All the other children ate lunch with someone; he ate alone. All the other children played with people at lunch; he sat alone, poking at anthills or studying the trees. His teachers worried about him, called his parents in for conferences, but he never bothered to change.
He was like his parents, after all. He was like everyone else in the world. Teachers, he thought, must just be strange.
Then, when he was ten, the parents of one of his classmates hosted a 'getting to know you' party. He had to go; he was invited, and his mother said it was polite to go. He stood in the corner the entire time, no matter what the hosts did to try and coax him out-- the other children knew better than to try-- and watched.
What he saw confused him.
The father and mother kissed each other, touched casually, called each other "darling." They spoke kindly to the other children when they ran and played. The children called them "Mommy," and "Daddy."
After his mother drove him home, he went straight to his father's study, and knocked. "Enter," his father called.
Frank went in, stood in front his father's desk. "Sir," he said, and waited to be acknowledged.
His father kept writing for a moment, then looked up and over the tops of his glasses. "Frank," he said, sounding a little surprised. "What is it?"
"May I ask a question, sir?"
His father set his pen down and folded his hands on the desktop. "Ask."
Frank hesitated, phrasing the question before he spoke. "The other children at the party called their parents Mommy and Daddy," he said, at last. "Why do they do that?"
His father frowned. "An interesting question," he said. "Do you want to call me Daddy?"
"No, sir," Frank said, immediately. "It's overly familiar, sir."
"Correct," his father said, and Frank flushed, pleased. "You understand, I see. Those children call their parents that because they are overly familiar."
Frank nodded. "I do understand, sir. Um."
"Don't stammer, Frank," his father snapped. "Say what you're going to say or don't speak at all."
He swallowed, reminded himself to stay in control. "May I ask another question, sir?"
His father considered him for a moment, then nodded. "You may."
"How did you know not to be overly familiar with Mother and me?"
To Frank's surprise, his father sighed, and looked rather sad. "A lesson I learned in my youth," he said. "I won't bore you with the story, but... let me just tell you, caring is more trouble than it's worth. You'll only get hurt, Frank." He stared off into the distance for a moment. "It will kill me one day, caring. But you might be able to escape."
Thoroughly confused, Frank nodded. "I understand, sir."
His father focused on him again, and smiled, a sharp, mocking expression. "No, you don't," he said, and returned to his writing. "You are dismissed."
Frank left the room, and spent the rest of the day thinking. But it wasn't until he had his own children that he finally understood.