Word of the week is truth. You can find it’s definition in the side-bar. Feel free to comment on my piece below and how I have interpreted this week’s prompt. Put your own in the comments also, and let’s see how many different pieces we can get.
The truth can sometimes be difficult to bare. Do I tell her? Now? Later? Not at all? Reflecting on this morning’s meeting, I am still undecided. I run through it in my mind again, trying to find a clue as to what is the right thing to do…
I am sitting in my chair, one that has a permanent tilt to the right, courtesy of the previous inhabitant of my office. Although I was quite happy to take his job, it would have been preferable for him to take the seat with the rest of his belongings. At least then Accounting would have no reason to deny my application for a new one.
I attempt to lean back casually while the grey-haired man across from my desk takes his place on the hard plastic visitor’s seat. Except suddenly I feel like the chair isn’t going to stop in its lean backwards and my legs shoot up in the air to gain some balance, while my arms flail around trying to find the armrests to grab.
After I finally get myself together again, I look up to find my visitor looking at me with disgust written all over his face. “Are you quite right, Mr Jones?” he asks me scornfully.
“Yes fine,” I reply. I like to think that I sound calm. I’m not going to let this old bastard get to me; Lisa has spent years searching, I’m not going to kick him out of my office for being a prick. Damned if I would. “Let’s get on with it shall we?”
“Absolutely. I believe you know my daughter?”
“Yes, in fact, she’s my wife.”
The man in front of me snorts. “Christ mate, I feel sorry for you already. Does she look like her mother at all? Dog-ugly, cow of a woman she is. Can’t imagine she’s changed at all.”
I stare at him. Lisa’s mother is a lovely woman, and pretty in her own way. Not runway model material, but definitely not dog-ugly as Mr Philipson is describing. Shit, do I have the right person?
“You have a daughter named Lisa? Mother is June McCarthy? You were never married, left when the child was two years old?”
“Yep. I wasn’t sticking around for that bitch. And the kid? Christ, never stopped crying and whingeing. I thought maybe she’d stop eventually, but I’d come home from work and she’d be at it again. From when she woke up till when she went to sleep. No way I was staying. Didn’t want the little shit to start with, but June got knocked up on our second date and wouldn’t get rid of it.”
I hold my hand up and stop him there. I don’t need to hear anymore. Lisa doesn’t need to know this monster. I hadn’t even told her I thought I may have found her father.
“You know what, Mr Philipson? I think if you didn’t like them then, you’re not going to like them now. I won’t take up anymore of your time. You can leave thank you.”
He looks at me and I swear there’s a twinkle in his eyes.
“Yeah, is that right mate? How much are willing to pay for me to go away?”
What did you think? Feedback appreciated. Put your take on truth in the comments also. Happy writing!