HONORABLE MENTION FOR JUNE, 2019: THE STEEPLE BY HATTIE COOKE
- shadygroveliterary
- Aug 6, 2019
- 1 min read
My father was calling at twenty to ten.
I knew something was wrong.
He'd usually be in bed by now, and besides, he rarely called.
"Sweetheart, have you seen the news?" he said.
I could hear a lump, lodged in his throat.
"What news?" I asked coolly, trying to remain composed.
Who had died?
What catastrophe had unfolded when I wasn't looking?
"Notre Dame..." he choked "...it's nearly all gone."
I could have sworn he'd been crying.
"Oh yeah, I saw. It's...terrible."
And it was terrible, watching the steeple collapse -
It was -
But what could I do about it?
"I...I remember you saying...you wanted to go to Paris."
"Yeah I did."
That was months ago.
We both fell silent, perhaps if I tried to sound a little sadder...
"Were you asleep?" he asked.
"No. I was just...I had my tooth taken out today."
"Oh, you're a little spaced from the drugs" he excused away my indifference.
"Yeah, sorry" I said.
But I knew the drugs had worn off hours ago.
"Well I'll let you go then."
The words waivered - he needed me, and I didn't know what to say about any of it.
"Ok Dad. Lots of love."
He hung up the phone.
In the silence of the room 'it's nearly all gone' rang out.
It rang like a church bell for the rest of the night as I thought about the steeple.
Comments