“You got written up for showing
emotion. Again. Didn’t you?”
The air was still and silent. A
strong firm voice punctured the room as the man crumpled the paper in his hand
and eyed the boy shuddering on the sofa. “Are you crying while I’m talking to
you?”
“I can’t
help it, I swear!” Gregory looked up at his father’s blank expression. “What’s
so wrong with—“
“Stop crying
and stop shaking!” The shout quieted the younger into a silence. He lowered his
head and raised the end of his shirt to wipe away tears.
The older man reached toward the
coffee table nearby. Gregory raised his head at the heavy sound of his father’s
hand picking up the remote control from the surface.
“Son, I need to show you something.”
Gregory expected the man’s neutral voice to become overpowered as he raised and
pointed the device. But the living room was just as silent when the television
turned on.
Gregory lifted his eyes to look at
the screen. The small icon for the mute mode was displayed in the top right
corner. The channel was set to the local
news. He waited for the channel to be changed, but his father’s figure only
relaxed on the couch. Confusion wormed through Gregory’s mind.
Both people sat in silence. The
brilliant light from the television painted tints and shadows across the living
room walls. Minutes passed as they continued to stare at the screen.
The silence took a toll on Gregory’s
nerves. He battled between making noise and not disturbing the imposed quiet.
Finally, the young boy looked at
his dad. “I can’t even hear—“
“I don’t want you to hear. I want
you to look.” The older man never took his eyes off the screen.
Gregory balled his fists and willed
himself to turn back to the television again. He joined his father in observing
the figures on-screen. A pretty woman mouthed words and shifted as she talked
before the camera panned to a male pointing at weather charts and a large
map. Clips were shown the same news anchors. A small notion
of understanding began to go through his mind.
Gregory suddenly sat up.
“Do you finally see it?”
“Yeah. Their faces. They’re blank.
No emotion.”
“You got it.”
“But what’s the point of that?” Confusion
swept over the young boy as he reclined on the sofa.
The older man cocked his head. “You
know how guys are supposed to be ‘strong’? And girls are made fun of because
they cry all the time?”
As Gregory nodded, the man
continued. “Have you ever seen Henry Mason smile or frown?”
The boy thought about the wildly
popular celebrity three years strong. “No.”
“What about Sylvia Benny?”
The richest woman in the world
never displayed an ounce of passion. He shook his head again.
“Can you think of any celebrity who
does?” When the boy was silent, the man sat back, satisfied. “That’s why they’re
successful.”
“But why do people hate emotion so
much?”
The man sighed. A single click
resounded across the large room. The action threw them into complete darkness
as the television turned off. But it was comforting to Gregory as he heard the
words across from him.
“Son, it doesn’t matter why. Only
that it does.”
~~~
“Hey dad!”
Gregory snapped out of the memory.
He opened his eyes to watch as a pink shade came to his view. The small girl
toddled forward in the flowing bright-colored dress as she greeted the inclined
man in a camping chair. “A butterfly right there,” she said as her finger
pointed to a nearby dandelion.
“Yes.” Gregory nodded as he watched
the animal open and close its wings in an invisible beat. “Did you know they
used to be called flutterbies, Jade?”
“Flutterbies!” The girl chirped.
The voice caused a waver in the flower that propelled the animal into action. Bubbly laughter permeated the air like a perfume
as she pranced through the grass after the wavering creature. “Flutterbies!”
Gregory straightened from his chair.
“Did I just catch you smiling?”
“No.” The girl stopped her running and whipped
around to look at him. The small voice was paired with wide eyes as she looked
to her father.
“I better not. We’ve gone over this
before, right?”
The small girl sighed and hung her
head as she approached the talking figure. “Because it’s rude.”
“Then don’t do it again.”
“Okay.” The small girl’s face
assumed a plain demeanor. “I won’t. I promise.”
“Atta girl.” He said, reaching to rub
a hand over the short silky hair.
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